It’s been a few weeks since the world went to hell in a hand basket. None of us saw it coming until it was too late. The explosion itself sent tremors through the earth that we could feel them from here, over 200 kilometres away. We hear that it was part of a mass assault on all major cities in Canada. Vancouver; demolished. Ottawa; destroyed. Montreal; gone. Winnipeg; wiped off the map. However we are now discovering that there were survivors. That is, if you can call a walking pile of radiation a survivor.

At first we were kind of relieved to see a survivor, sure it was scary and some feel awful for not sending help earlier but we’ve had our own problems to worry about. Quarantine and rationing; riots and murders; looting and ravaging. Times are tough everywhere.

When that first survivor came stumbling into the city some people took it as a sign of hope. The idea arose that maybe there were some people who had survived the carnage. Some members of our community are heading out tomorrow to help the “survivors” from Winnipeg. They think they are going to save lives, help the patients who need medical attention, maybe even find loved ones. Those are the optimists. I think if this world has shown us anything its that optimism is going to get us killed. First it blinds us to reality, then it strikes while we’re asleep.

No the odds are that there won’t be many survivors and if they did make it they would just be liabilities. There’s no hope thinking they survived. My sister’s gone. I’ve accepted that. What we should be doing is focusing our resources on those living here in Brandon, not the partially dead in Winnipeg. More people will just mean more competition for the things that matter like food and water. It’s better for those people to die out there than have to finish them off here to supply for our community. The cemetery is overfilled enough as it is.

Republished from The Swill print edition, Volume 107, Issue 27, March 28, 2017.