Of all the places I thought I would be at the end of the world, “The Pyramids” had never made the list. Not even once. And yet, here I am, looking out of a carved hole in the wall of my sandy little brown room. I won’t complain too much – I have a rather nice view of the Nurem River, admittedly. It looks as beautiful as ever sometimes; in the mornings, the few rays of sunlight that make it through the red clouds reflect off the water, illuminating it jade green, and enter my room as a shifting mosaic on my ceiling. That’s how I wake up on most days, even when the covers must be put up at the hole for sandstorms in the night before. When it rains, it pours, as they say… Except this is sunlight, and few things can be the proverbial umbrella anymore. Thankfully, stone works well enough. Which is why we’re here.

Honestly, I don’t think there’s any merit to making an audio journal – or any kind of journal, for that matter – at this point, but Lucien somehow thinks there will be a people to learn from our mistakes in the future. Optimistic, that man. I don’t share the opinion, but he made me take this thing anyway. Said if I just talk into it, it’ll help clear the mind, if nothing else.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

*Sigh*

Well, it’s not like I have a whole lot to do. I can entertain the thought.

So, whoever’s listening, from God knows how far in the future? I hope your skies are blue, the waters are clear, and that neither are too lethal. I hope your children can play in parks and feel the breeze on their skin at the beaches. I really hope someone gets to listen to this, because it’ll mean we somehow don’t all die before we figure out where to go from here. Yeah, that would be nice.

Anyway, this is Richard Adolfo, and I’ll be talking about our life at the end of the world.