16/11/2016 sometime around 5pm

Sitting on my suitcase by the side of the road. In front of what used to be the biggest and busiest airport on the continet. 900km from home. *Alone*. In stupefying awe.

Since the very beginning of the red alert, nobody wanted to believe the failure to contain the epidemic is imminent. How could it not be? The population density either too high or extremely low. Alienating work of money based economy. Industrial food. Air? Offices, planes, buses, gyms, classrooms, factories, labs, supermarkets...

In hindsight, what strikes me the most is the fact everybody could see it coming. But they went about their days, weeks and years changing nothing. I am no exception. I felt anxious, I felt as though I was slipping into insanity. But I never did anything. Didn't know what to do. Although I never knew of anything else, it hasn't seemed normal to me in a very long time.

Now that I think about it, I'm not quite sure when or where Project Afterlife originated. I was born into it. So were my parents. And theirs. Guess I should have payed more attention during history classes...

People around me are trying to overtake the few remaining functional airport shuttles. I am not. I still don't know what to do. I observe the panic around me. I see a man getting his leg continually hit by the closing shuttle door. He has to be aware that any bruises or open wounds increase the chance of infection. Maybe he just doesn't care.

I continue sitting on my suitcase. I still don't know what to do. I watch some people go down with the afternoon sun. I sense I am not an exception. I still don't know what to do. I am becoming increasingly calm.