VERY FEW OF MY APOCALYPSE FANTASIES
qualify as cheerful, but there’s one that brings a smile to my face: It’s a few years into the future, and the world is ravaged by war and wildfires. A solemn-looking young boy and his determined father push a rusted shopping cart down a desolate street. Think Cormac McCarthy’s but real, and therefore tacky. The boy tugs at his dad’s sleeve. “Father,” he asks, “were you alive before everything fell apart?” The man nods. “What did you do to stop it?” The man crouches down, puts his hand on his son’s shoulder, and—his eyes watering from emotion and ash—says,
