Memories Of The Cold Days

The Watch would check the thermometer and geiger counter every day. Some wouldn’t bother to climb up to peer through the tiny porthole in the blast doors, but Wen always did. Most of the time it showed a dim grey nothing, which you could only tell was a window if you turned the airlock lights off. Occasionally when there was a period of melting, you could see out across a featureless desert of snow.

Now that the sun-blocking ash and dust were finally out of the atmosphere, and temperatures were rising, the view was green: a radioactive deathtrap, mockingly verdant.

***
Title by: John H. Edwards
Story by: David

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