Chapter 2:

December 8th, 12:43 PM RST

The Last Noel


Bad news, Bob. They got worse.

Well, I'm not fully sure what I expected, but sentient man-hunting robots was not particularly high on the list. Particularly because before today, the most advanced robots I'd seen were little pucks that cleaned dust off the floor. That and every other piece of electronics I have found were dead. Apparently, however, this non-functionality doesn't extend to the eight-foot-tall murderbot currently stalking back and forth outside.

Life is always full of surprises like that.

Now Bob, I'm sure you're asking, "But Noel! How do you know it's a murderbot? Maybe its there to help!", and I respect your desire to always want to put a bright spin on things. That's one of the things I like most about you, Bob.

To answer your valid question with what I feel is a very valid explanation, I determined it was a murderbot via observation and data collection. Which is to say, I saw it carrying a big fuck-off gun, and watched it utilize said gun to turn what I think was a deer into what I can only describe as "Bambi mist". I've never really seen a living thing turned into red vapor. Then again, I've also never survived the apocalypse, but hey, here we are. Lots of firsts for ol' Noel these days.

I'm sure your next question will probably be something about how I know it would do the same thing to me, and again, Bob, I admire your tendency to look on the bright side. The truth is, I don't for sure. But I am willing to extend to you the hypothesis that any giant metal biped carrying the aforementioned big fuck-off gun and willing to turn a harmless man-sized animal into crimson puree is equally willing to do it to me too. Now granted, you could argue that all evidence I have to support that hypothesis is circumstantial, but I'm willing to accept that if it means I don't run the risk of being sprayed across the length of a football field by a rifle round the size of a soda can.

[Historian's Note: A "football field" was a span of unobstructed land approximately 50 body-spans long that was used in physical competition. A "soda can" was a primitive drink container made of aluminum that was approximately the size of a man's fist.]

The downside to my current situation is that said murderbot appears to be guarding the area immediately outside what I know of as the only exit outside of this... place. Wherever this is. Best I can describe it, it looks like something between a concrete bunker and some kind of industrial building with pipes everywhere. I haven't really explored more than a section of it yet, mostly on the account of having only woken up a few hours ago.

The upside, however, is that I now know when I am, at least insofar as I can assume the analog desk calendar I found is reasonably close to the current date. If it is, then I'm apparently in the year 2047.

This is, as you can imagine, a bit of a shock to me, Bob, considering when I last went to bed it was 2019.

I apparently over-slept the hell out of last night.

Things being as they are, I'm not about to take my chances with the walking death Roomba outside this hatchway. I'm going to try and explore more of this place and see what I can find.

Maybe I can find another way out of here that's a little less... instant death-y.