"To Survive or Not to Survive?"

Translated from the Hex-Talisman, 2059 A.D.
Originally written in 1998 A.D.

The infamous Hex-Talisman is a transcript that was recovered by HeXonium
Soldiers during the post-war years.  The following story is an unedited
excerpt from an unknown survivor who lived beneath Earth's surface during
the post-holocaust years.

-=-

There once was a time when good conquered evil and the victors of all ancient
wars were the men in white.  But since the decay of our planet and the
diminishing social morales of mankind, it seems that evil has had the last
laugh.  No longer does society have moral standards, and greed has been
brainwashed into every living soul.  Eventually, a ghost in the night has
swept away the world, leaving nothing but vast deserts of hazy radiation and
lifeless cities.  I now believe in ghosts, not that I have a choice.  This
ghost is the nuclear bomb.  If the ghost hasn't taken the life from every
living creature, it has taken their sanity.

Having survived through this time of terror, I would rather have dissolved
into a yellowish dust than to suffer such horrifying after effects from the
ghost.  So here I am, writing onto a slab of rock with a small chalk stone,
and with the light of my final matches slowly fading.  With death lurking
in the shadows, it almost seems to late for confessions.  The ghost may have
captured my soul by now, but for the sake of my final days of survival, I
certainly hope not.  But maybe someone will read this one day, sanctifying
myself and the entire Human race of its downfall.

Living well beneath the surface of the surface, I have lost track of time.
It seems so long since I've breathed fresh air and seen the powerful light
of the sun.  But what do I care.  What is time, but man's feeble attempt to
capture infinity.  Time isn't needed here.

I have been reduced to an animal, scrounging amongst the rats and insects.
Getting on my hands and knees and digging for worms and other various insects
is a hourly exercise.  The dirt beneath my fingernails also serve as an
appetizer.  I guess you can imagine what is for dessert.  "You?"  Who am I
talking to?  There is only myself here.  Insanity is trying to open my skull
and take control, I can feel it.  Little does Insanity know that I have only
a few days to live.  He'll be surprised when he gets into my head, expecting
to find a weak mind and get crushed by clotted blood of Death.

Enough of my foolishness -- back to reality for a minute.  I have yet to
finish my real intentions.

Three years ago, a maze of tunnels were burrowed beneath the planet's surface
by a small clan that I had been a part of.  Since it was dark among of the
caves, it was hard to identify who was in our presence.  We identified one
another by the signal of "X".  This system worked quite well, as we soon
became able to identify each members voice.  Occasionally, we would find
another wanderer appear in the tunnels and would inquire about the outer
world.  Most wanderers were sent elsewhere due to their high amount of
radiation.  The fear of contamination was great, and the risk of an outsider
joining the clan, was not taken.  Besides the foul odor of radiation, the
smell of death reeked throughout the tunnels.  Designated areas were used
for burial grounds, but the scent still manages to escape its own death.
Also, the odor of defecation was immense.  In fact, I can still smell it now.
Unfortunately, the X Clan didn't last long.  It was being torn apart by an
unknown force.  Survival appeared hopeless, and cannibalism became frequent.
For security reasons, I never mixed with the clan much.  I knew what was
tearing them apart from one another and knew that the people were going
insane.  It was the ghost -- it had captured their souls.  I became cautious
of the clan's deterioration and could sense it them: hostile, greedy, and
ruthless.  This was my cue to leave the rotting clan, for I feared my life.

So I moved on, and created a sublet of tunnels, well hidden from the other
main passageways.  Isolation became my only friend as an escape or rescue
from the underground seemed hopeless.

Can I escape from this realm of maddening darkness, or am I faced with this
eternal darkness?  I suppose the question proclaims as "to survive or not to
survive."  As it easy as the choice may seem, the answer is ironic.  With
rations low, it may seem as though I should attempt to escape from these
tunnels and save myself from death.  But what is there on the surface of
this lifeless planet?  Is there not death up there as well?  Though life is
considered precious, I have paid my dues and suffered long enough.  There
could be some hope of life on the surface, but the pleasure of life is the
pain of living.

So I ask you now, can you run from death?  I have made the only choice.