January 2^nd, 2078

40 years and two days after they dropped the fucking bomb on us.

Another day, another sermon to the glazed organic eyes of the masses.

I stand and I scream, and no one listens.

Except for the fluttering, metallic eyes of the Monitor; those fuckers are everywhere.

And they almost had me today.

I was standing on the corner of two streets – I can remember when they had names, life – addressing the flowing crowd of zombies, begging, berating pleading with them to ‘feel’.

They simply passed around me, like cool water around a rock.

But they aren’t wearing me down.

In mid-sentence, I heard a camera click above me. When I looked up I saw it, one of the butterflies, those cold machines that bear death.

So I ran to ground, like a terrified white rabbit.

But I fear San Francisco isn’t safe anymore. I’m leaving tonight. Heading south for Baja.

I despair of finding anyone to listen, but as long as my two eyes still see, and my heart still feels, I will keep hope alive.

                                                                                    Yours in eternal hope,