Yesterday, to mark the date of the speculative end of the world in the anthology Fauxpocalypse, I posted a short piece of fiction following my character as they seek out the stragglers and survivors of the non-apocalypse. Having run from Switzerland through Milan, they enter an almost dream-like Venice, where murky canals are invitations to end one’s life and a community has been formed in search of a Communism of sorts.
Although the original concept for the anthology was to set our stories in the same world, the same universe, I think each writer has created their own universe, their own fantasy. After all, that is what speculating about the future is—a fantasy. It is highly likely that the world would have repaired itself, even a tad, in a year following nights and days like those depicted.
However, the image that came to me when I was thinking about what my protagonist’s future world would look like was one that had been broken a lot more. From ruin of home and religion and society, some people couldn’t stay where they had grown up, couldn’t remain in the cities they’d seen torn. Refugees and barriers became more common as racial tension once again became taut. Who was to blame for the speculation? Who was to blame for the destruction?
Everybody had a different opinion.
So, it followed that communities would try and rebuild themselves—either against the world as it had been, with a kind of hate, or against the world to make lives better, fairer. I guess the notion of floor-length robes was part of the fantasy, utilising one’s stereotype of secret society meetings—but flipping it with a community in the open that only tries for the best.
After all, robes are practical, and easier to wash if one desires so.
As animals, we will always have an evolutionary wariness of outsiders – the scientific phenomenon called in-group out-group mentality – and it is only (evolutionarily) recently that we have evolved reasoning and problem-solving approaches to problems of humanity. To me, from what I have observed of modern societies, it makes sense that an apocalypse, or apocalypse-like state/event, would reset our sense of logical community.
The same way that riots rose, as depicted by some of the other authors in the anthology.
Sacrifices have to be made. As I see it, the end of the world, or not, provides many opportunities for lives to change, to be given up or renewed—or both.
In a way, my character gives up a lot when they choose to cross continents looking for survivors: not family, no, as they were brought up in an orphanage and never wanted adoption, but a life of more ample living in an Oxford community that would’ve welcomed another Chemist back into the fold to help local survivors.
Instead, they opted for hardship, handiwork, and walking.
Of course, it is likely that, if this fauxpocalypse were ever to happen, society would repair itself far better than the communities and cities through which our protagonist has ventured.
But one never knows.
It’s been two years since I wrote the first draft of what would become my story Revelation, and in that time, I’ve had a lot more exposure to the hypothetical cultures that could surround or being involved with the fictional future-time portrayed in Fauxpocalypse and its follow-ups. I suppose I understand more now about the way different people react to different situations, and how this can change the future, hypothetically and in reality. The good, the bad, and the ugly sides of personalities.
For instance, during Eastertime, I went to a gig where Abney Park were playing, a band whose Steampunk-esque music is centred around the journeys of Captain Robert’s crew in a post-apocalyptic world.
After all, the end of days may not have come for the Fauxpocalypse characters, but the aftermath of the non-comet is certainly – at least in my mind’s eye – mimicry of what the apocalypse would’ve been like. And it begs the question—are we humans the ones who turn our world into post-apocalyptic dust?
If this kind of thing interests you, you can get a print/ebook copy of the Fauxpocalypse anthology at Amazon and other online retailers – just search. We’d appreciate a review if you have the time. We are also celebrating with a Facebook page at the moment the date in which the fictional end-of-days was meant to occur.
Alexandrina Brant has a revived hope in independent arts, since performing at the Institute for Contemporary Arts this week. She’s currently surviving off using the university internet, and alternating not-sleeping and not-writing (!). At the moment, she is thinking of posting snippets of her NaNoWriMo project, of Steampunk MRI machine monsters.
As a note of interest, she was inspired to set her story in a ruined Venice, as she is going there next year. Alexandrina has a particular interest in Italy, its past and its future, and its linguistics.