gub72000

2009: Iran launches nuclear strike on Israel. Israel retaliates, obliterating Iran, Lebanon, and Syria. Most of southern Europe irradiated. Petroleum prices skyrocket, pushing many worldwide below the poverty line. 2012: President of the United States assasinated. Egyptian nationals blamed. Later the same year, an extremely volatile strain of weaponized ebola zaire is released in the New York subway system. Thousands die. Al queda and Hezbollah both claim responsibility.  New York City permanently quarantined. 2013: U.S. president pro tem declares war on all of Islam, declaring the faith a "Clear and present danger to the security of the Un

Open on orbital view of earth. Most of planet covered by a brown pall pan in: Camera moves through the thick smog. clouds alive with electrical discharge Camera moves further in. Emerges through pollution cloud to reveal urban sprawl to the horizon in all directions Sweeping pan over cityscape. One begins to notice the ramshackle condition of the buildings. Slow pan in to reveal, for a moment, a tattered and partially burned american flag. View begins to move downward, from the canopy of skyscrapers down through a labyrinth of streets and walkways, newer built on top of the old. everywhere there is evidence of furtive human life. camera

Undersea drilling platform 17/ Europa steady thrum of machinery. Metallic walls streaked with oil and grime. Huge pistons grind away endlessly, drawing fossil fuels from deep within the moon. Lights flicker outside the viewports of the employee lounge, the bioluminescence of the lamp crabs, drawn by the heat of the rig.The entire room is brightly lit with flourescent lights, making all look sallow and wan. A corporate logo covers one wall, two hands cradling a planetoid. "Terracorp: bringing tomorrow to today" Two men sit at a battered plastic table drinking coffee, one is reading the football scores off a dataphone, the other talking to no

Neon sign flashes intermittently ove the door: "Annika's Pawn". Toxic rain splatters in oily drops against the Armoplas windows. Inside, a slight, striking woman leans on the counter. "Really comin' down," she says to no one in particular, and runs her fingers through her lavender hair. She stares out the window for a few moments, then turns to the till to count the day's take. Behind her, she hears the bells on the door as it opens. "We're closed. Take it outside" Footsteps in the dingy tile of the store. More than one pair. Heavy boots. "We Are Closed" Getting aggravated now, footsteps approaching the counter. She turns, "Are you fucking de