That’s when the wail first sounded, deep inside. I felt it begin to gather force, although it wouldn’t emerge from my mouth for two years. But the foreknowledge of my absolute existential abandonment planted its dark seed inside me at that moment.
The scientists had warned us about this. But the politicians were too busy fighting for scraps to feed their corporate supporters, and the rest of us were too busy working for the leftovers. We should have known. We all did know. But we did nothing.
When the blackness confronted me I saw my death written as an incontestable sentence. No chance for an appeal. But I never thought I’d last longer than everyone else. I never expected, on the day I bought my hydroponic salad garden, that it would make me the last living human.
Today the wail finally erupted. Tonight I will eat my last leaves of lettuce, and walk into the absolute zero above ground to die. Being the last living human is the worst fate the universe could ever deliver. I will have to face my judgment for being such a selfish coward now.