War never changes much. It is just as horrible today as it was when men fought with muskets and 12-pound mortars; just as horrible as when it was waged with axes and longbows; and just as horrible as when early African tribes battled each other with stone maces and spears. It never truly ends, and it seems never to have had a specific beginning. Imagine, then, how much of human spirit and endeavor, how much ingenuity and energy, and how much of our resources have been poured into war over the generations. Imagine, if you can, where we would be without it. Perhaps humanity would live in an amazingly sophisticated, unified culture; free from the memories and knowledge of real hardship. Or perhaps we owe more of our society to war than we know-- without it, perhaps, we would be no higher than some intelligent animal, or perhaps our desire for conflict is such that, failing an outside threat, we would turn upon ourselves and seek solace for our internal tribulation in self-destructiveness. It remains to be seen, then, what effect an ultimate peace will have on the world at large. This peace, having settled over both our planet and so many others, seems more stable than any other peace in history, and has already lasted several years longer than predicted at first. With that in mind, we as a species must watch our path carefully, because the absence of chaos could lead either to spectacular achievements, or the disassembly of society.

It seems right at this point to recall how we were placed in this position. I happen to have here in my possession a copy of the personal account of Andrea E. Campton, a young lady who is responsible for this peace in an enormous way. In it she describes both her experiences in this past civil war, and the motives behind her actions. Many interesting and hitherto unexplained facts are revealed by her, and it behooves anyone who cares about our recent history to read it. I am aware that such autobiographies are often full of error and, in many cases, outright lies, but I find Ms. Campton's account to be consistent both with official records and eyewitness reports of the time, and as such I believe the more fantastic portions of her story are likely also true. She mailed me this copy about three months ago, and included on the front page a brief note explaining what it was, and that I was permitted to publish it under the condition that her contact information and current location be kept strictly confidential. I am, however, allowed to say that, as far as I'm aware, Ms. Campton is in good health, and engaged to a fine young man who I myself met not long ago. I wish them, and all of you, the best of luck in this queer new age.

Sincerely,

Arthur M. Grenadine

THE ACCOUNT OF ANDREA E. CAMPTON

Chapter 1.

Before I say anything else, I should probably mention two things: first, I am Andrea Campton. You've probably seen my face somewhere-- I've gotten more popularity in the past few years than I need or want. Second, it's been a few years since all the things I'll describe here happened, so I'm not going to remember everything, and not everything I remember will necessarily be exactly right, or even in the right order. I'm just trying to set the record straight where I know it's wrong. Like when my family tells me I was clubbed in an alley and my body was dumped in the desert somewhere three years ago, for example. The fact that I'm alive is a real testament to human error. To offset all this, I've gathered accounts from some of the other people I've met (many of whom have better memories than me) to try and re-construct, as accurately as possible, the conversations and events I'll relate here. Many little things contributed to what happened, and I've tried to put them together in such a way that the reader can see why they led to where they did.

On that note, I should probably start from square 1. I think I was 16 or 17 years old. I'm not sure what year it was. My sense of time got pretty messed up afterwards. But I remember that it was a Friday. I was going out to a movie with some friends from high school. I was one of those people who's too smart to fit in with the preppy types, too dumb to make it as an honor student, and not quite weird enough to fit in with the nerds and outright weirdos. I liked to think I was basically normal-- I dressed and acted normal, as far as I remember-- but I was the odd one out anywhere I went. It gave me a lot of aggravation back then, because anytime I talked to someone I always got this funny feeling like I was talking to a very intelligent animal. It was like everyone around me lacked this extra layer to their persona that I seemed to have. It's very difficult to describe, except that it affected how I reacted to things versus how others reacted. I would come across solutions to problems faster, or understand in advance where a series of events and decisions led where others made completely different predictions. All these little, unverifiable things set me apart. I guess I've gone off on too much of a tangent here, but it's important to me to get these things out. It's these little things that made me do what I did in the war, and after it.

What kicked the whole thing off was the sort of improbable event that anyone in their right minds knows is against the laws of physics. It happened out of sight, in an alley. I was in an alley because I used it frequently as a shortcut between home and the theater. This alley was really a lot like me in many ways: to all appearances, it was a normal alley, dressed in the same crushed beer cans and broken glass that most alleys wear, adorned with the same grime and gravel, the same occasional graffiti that marks a normal alley. It was just as dark and unnerving a place as any alley should be. Yet, under all this there was an extra invisible layer. It granted the alley an ability that most alleys don't have. I'd been through the alley about a million times before, but I think this was the first time I walked through it alone. Or, to be precise, this was the first time I walked half-way through it alone, because right as I got dead center of the alley, its extra layer came through, and something very bizarre happened.

For no apparent reason, everything around me suddenly went completely dark. I don't remember exactly how I felt right then, but I distinctly remember that I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't see. I remember feeling light-headed in the strangest way, more like I was floating than like I was fainting. Then I felt like I was falling for a few seconds, and the darkness suddenly lifted. I fell about three more feet onto a hard laminated floor of some kind, and it hurt because I'd landed in a sitting position. I remember very factually that I felt panicked, and that I sat there in shock for who knows how long. But I can't bring back the feeling of it at all.

I could not wrap my brain around what had just happened. I was walking down an alley, and suddenly I was in a hallway. The hallway was, in its way, very alley-like, however. It was dim and gray, and littered with occasional bits of trash throughout. I thought back and realized that the only possible explanation was that someone had knocked me out, and I was having some kind of dream. This didn't seem right, either. I'd managed to get a hold of myself, and I wasn't hyperventilating anymore and holding my knees up to my face so I could scrutinize them instead of facing my surroundings. See, usually my dreams go whatever way I expect them to go, especially if I realize I'm dreaming. Half the time when I figure that out, I wake up. But I wasn't waking up, and I certainly hadn't expected any of this. I could remember everything as it happened too clearly for it to be a dream, and I could think too clearly too. When I dream, my thoughts are always muddled and illogical, like they operate in dream logic instead of real logic. When I'm dreaming, I find I usually don't think things through at all-- I just do things, like an animal. When I dream, I have no superego. Yet my superego seemed strangely active in this hallway, because I was thinking a lot about my situation, and I wasn't doing anything. In fact, I hadn't even stood up. This was all apart from the fact that the hallway was just too realistic to be part of a dream, and so was the pain in my tailbone from landing in it. Logically, therefore, I could not be dreaming. My predicament made no sense.

I decided after maybe an hour of running in logical circles that I was just going to have to live with the fact that I couldn't figure out how I got here. Then something else occurred to me: maybe this wasn't a dream-- maybe whoever whacked me in the alley had dumped me here later, somehow, and run off before I saw them go. I thought back. It didn't make sense, either, because I didn't remember getting knocked out at any time, and I wasn't being carried when I fell. It was like I'd just fallen through space, and landed there. But it was the most sensible thing I could come up with, so I decided to make it my theory of what had happened to me. If I'd just gotten dropped here by an attacker, I realized, I now had three choices:

a. I could get up, run as fast as I could, and hope I found the attacker, and then try to capture him so I could get the cops to come pick him up;

b. I could get up cautiously, survey my surroundings, try to figure out where I was, and try to find someone who could help me get home; or

c. Sit there, do nothing, and rot.

In the end, I chose b.

I looked around at the hallway, preparing myself to go walking through it. The floor was laminated in a warm, dark gray, that shimmered a little under the dim, yellowish panel lighting overhead. The walls were a little lighter, but they were gray too, and made of some kind of plastic paneling. The ceiling was a few shades lighter than the walls, but it was gray, too. Everything was either gray or orangey-yellow. The hallway curved off to the left ahead of me, and it curved in the same direction the other way, so I thought it was probably a big circle. On my left there was what looked like an elevator door, also gray and very shiny, with an odd, chunky plastic frame. Over it was a sign with glowing orange symbols on it, but I couldn't tell what the symbols were. It wasn't lettering or numbering, and it didn't look Asian or Hebrew that I could see. Nor did it look Greek, Russian, Arabic, or any other written language I could think of. I started worrying more. If I had somehow gotten to a foreign country, I could be in trouble. I was still shaking from landing in the hallway a few hours ago. I looked down the hallway in front of me. There was what looked like a red paper box of some kind lying in the middle of the hallway; then, piled up into the corner a few feet back was a piece of gray or white clothing. Farther back there was a green, boxy thing of some kind, and what looked like a sock. The floor was otherwise clean. Other items were strewn down the hallway stretching behind me. I started trying to stand up a little. I was still terrified, and my limbs were all shaky and didn't really want to hold me up. I stumbled like a drunk at first. I was going to try and find someone in the hallway. I managed to get most of my balance back, and I started walking.

Everything was completely silent, except for the occasional machine hum. I could hear my flip flops thumping quietly across the funny panel flooring with every step I took. I was still breathing harder than normal, and I could hear that almost as well as my footsteps. Everything in the hallway was a shadowy, monotonous gray, except for the occasional random items littering the floor. I finally found myself facing the red paper box again after awhile. The hallway was indeed circular, and there was no one in it.

There were flat, steel doors set at regular intervals along the outermost side of the hallway. I decided to start knocking on these. I went to all of them, and no one answered. A few opened, giving me a surprise when they slid sideways into the wall with a hissing sound. Inside there was always an empty room, what looked like an apartment, usually littered with heaps of random items and piles of clothing like the hallway. Sometimes I could smell something rotting inside, though I couldn't tell what. I'd yell "hello" a few times and peek through the doorways of these rooms, but I never went in any of them. The rooms were all even darker than the hallway, although at least they had some color in them. I decided I'd best leave them be.

All that was left was the elevator, if that's what it was. I walked over and stood in front of it. There were no buttons on the wall for it. Maybe it just opened into a room. I reached to knock on it, and jumped back when the doors slid open on their own, revealing what looked very much like the inside of a gray, dimly-lit elevator. I peeked inside. There, on a panel, were rows of buttons, and a pair of arrows pointing up and down. This, at least, was a little more familiar. I stepped cautiously inside. The buttons were marked with symbols like those on the sign over the door, and I couldn't tell what any of them meant. I pushed one of the ones lower down, hoping it would take me to the lobby. The doors slid shut almost silently, and the elevator started going down.

The elevator accelerated downwards for a long time. It didn't stop anywhere in its route, but it seemed like a few minutes before it finally started slowing down. I felt a lot of centripetal force bearing down on me as the elevator slowed. After what seemed like a very long time, the pressure let up, and the doors opened. I looked through the opening, trying to figure out if this was ground level or not before I gave up my elevator. There was a big, open room outside, still gray, but not as dimly lit. Opposite from me were some large windows, through which I could see a street and some buildings. It looked like I was at about ground level, maybe a floor higher. I decided to settle for it.

I stepped out of the elevator into what looked like some kind of reception place. There were no desks nearby that I could see, and it didn't look much like a lobby. It was more of a big hall. The windows let in a lot of sunlight, which helped offset the dim gray building a little. In the middle of the floor was a rumpled, red and orange jacket. Bits of trash littered the floor elsewhere, and maybe a hundred feet away a trash can was lying on its side, its contents gushing out like a river delta across the floor. Yet, apart from the junk, everything seemed quite clean. It was like the place had just been ransacked. I realized that, in this building at least, I was definitely alone. I sat down on the floor, not far from the red jacket, with my knees up in my chest, looking around. I still felt shaky, and going from one bizarre situation to another wasn't helping. I didn't want to just keep walking endlessly and finding abandoned buildings and bits of trash. I suppose a part of me thought that, if I sat there long enough, I wouldn't have to face any more of it. The rest of me wasn't fooled, though. Maybe my attacker had dropped me here because he knew it was the one abandoned building in town, the one building with dark hallways and mysterious symbols everywhere. If that was so, then I had to get outside. And what if the entire city was abandoned? I would have to try and find food and fresh water, or try and get out. I wouldn't know where to begin then. I had enough trouble just trying to figure out where I was. The alley I'd been in was not in a big city like this-- it was in a little town near my home, in Kansas. This place, whatever it was, had huge skyscrapers. I was standing near the ground floor of one. The symbols on the elevator didn't belong to any language I knew of. I glanced back over towards it. There was no way of even knowing what country I was in, so long as I was in this building. I stood up and started walking aimlessly, trying to find a way out.

I wandered through the building on that floor for some time, but there didn't seem to be any doors on that level leading outside. Many doors simply wouldn't open, and none of them had doorknobs. They were all metallic sliding doors like the ones I'd seen upstairs. After a while I took to yelling "hello" again, but all the response I ever got was the echo of my voice off the unsympathetic walls. I guessed that the building was abandoned, and that scared me, because I had no way of knowing why. Maybe it had been evacuated when my attacker arrived, before he dropped me here. It didn't make any sense, but none of this did. I thought about just breaking one of the enormous windows and stepping onto the sidewalk. I was still afraid that breaking windows would be a bad idea, so I checked all the doors I could find one more time. None of them led anywhere useful. About half an hour later I found myself looking out the windows again, this time dragging along one of the more manageable metal trash cans. It was about three feet tall, but relatively empty. I picked it up and smashed it straight forward into the window as hard as I could. The glass caved outward and shattered like a sheet of water, leaving a hole big enough to climb through. I pulled the trash can back inside, dropped it, and stepped through. I got a good scare when, almost immediately after, a loose hunk of glass about six feet high and three feet wide crashed to the ground behind me, sending loose fragments spraying in all directions. None of them hit me hard enough to break skin, but I stayed away from broken glass after that.

It had been four or five hours since I'd been mysteriously dropped into the massive building behind me, which I now saw seemed to stretch well over a mile into the sky. The other buildings around me were of similar height. I stood for several minutes gaping at the scenery. No city on earth looked remotely like it. The street I stood on now was paved in something very smooth and black, more like textured black ice than asphalt, and the sidewalks were made of something similar, but light gray. There were no cracks anywhere in the sidewalk or the road. The road wasn't straight like most city streets; instead it twisted around the oddly positioned buildings like a river through mountains. There were no people or cars anywhere, but bits of junk and random items dotted the street down its length. Apart from a light breeze, there was no sound. I realized very quickly that something very, very strange had happened, but I still had no conception of what. I didn't move for a long time. I felt a little cold, and the fear I'd felt earlier in the day was growing anew, because now it was plain that I was somewhere very strange, and it seemed to be completely abandoned. What little of the sky I could see overhead was very blue, but the sunlight bouncing off the higher stories of the buildings was an odd shade. It seemed really red for mid-afternoon.

It had more the feeling of walking into a dream than anything else that day. It took me a long time to pull myself together enough to think clearly. I still needed to find another person to talk to. I was starting to get hungry, too, and I was going to need food and clean water. I was surrounded by shelter, at least. I felt so bewildered by everything that for awhile I just stood still, wondering which direction I should walk in. The buildings didn't seem to get any bigger or smaller anywhere I looked; they all remained equally monstrous. Overhead an occasional bridge linked one building to another, or provided a second street for the non-existent traffic. I started walking towards my right, hoping I'd stumble across something obviously helpful. All the signs outside the buildings were written in the same odd symbols I'd seen inside the apartment complex, so all I could do was walk and window shop. I came across what looked like two boutiques in the first half hour, but no food. The clothing on the mannequins looked vaguely oriental, but it didn't seem to belong to any particular nationality or style. Again, no clues there. After almost an hour of walking, I stopped to rest for awhile. I sat down on an aluminum bench. I'd been in the city for the better part of a day, and in that time the sun hadn't moved that I could see, and there were still no people. It was plain that I'd been dumped, somehow, in an evacuated metropolis. I started wondering why.

There aren't many things that can cause an entire city to be evacuated. In fact, there are really only three: plagues, natural disasters, and nuclear warfare. Yet, the city was neither a rattled, crumbling place ravaged by hurricanes, nor a smoking radioactive ruin. All that left was disease. This made the most sense, but if there had been a deadly disease on the loose, wouldn't at least a few people have remained quarantined inside the city? I thought about the rotting odor inside some of the apartments, and wondered if there were bodies in those rooms, or if it was just rotting food, or something else. I wondered if maybe the people here just slept during the day, but if that was true, then why were there garbage cans overturned and bits and pieces of everything strewn around? Only a massive evacuation made sense. Maybe there had been a disease, but they'd caught it early and evacuated everyone before it could spread. Somehow that seemed to ring true with what I saw, so I decided that was likely the case. Then again, maybe some people had been quarantined, and were now rotting in their apartments.

If a disease was on the loose, I realized, I could get infected. I had no inkling of what disease it was or how it carries. I decided my best strategy was just to avoid getting cut, and try not to eat anything moldy. There was nothing else I could do. I started wondering why the sun didn't move. The shadows the buildings cast on each other hadn't changed at all in the past few hours. I thought I was probably just fooling myself, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. The only logical possibility was that this city was in the arctic somehow, so the sun never set. The primary trouble with that was that the arctic is cold, and the city was about 70 or 80 degrees. That left only two options, both of which were equally preposterous. Either I'd time traveled into the far future, and was now looking at a newly evacuated future metropolis in the arctic somewhere (which somehow had warmed up a lot), or I was on another planet entirely, in a place where the sun simply didn't move. I couldn't think of any way for that to be possible either. I gave up on trying to be rational about my situation for awhile, and buried my face in my hands, shutting out the bizarre dream world.

I got up after a few minutes and started shouting "hello" again. I didn't keep it up long; I'd already given up on finding anyone else there. I was almost as scared then as I had been when I first found myself in the apartment complex, because now I was seriously worried that I wouldn't be able to find food and water, never mind another human. I started walking down the road again at a panicked clip, trying to find something like a restaurant or a grocery store. After a good half-hour, I finally found something that looked promising. It was small, and inside the window I could see tables and chairs and a desk of some kind. I walked up to the glass door, and it slid aside for me like every other door I'd seen.

It was, as far as I could tell, a restaurant. I found the door leading to the kitchen, and there, tucked away in a corner of the narrow cooking space, was a massive insulated metal box which I guessed was a freezer. I walked up to it, and found that at least the freezer doors had actual handles. I pulled the door open with some effort, and found the freezer was almost empty, except for the two bottom shelves. Packed into these were three things that looked like mutated horseshoe crabs, along with several plastic boxes. The boxes were full of similarly bizarre items. I had no idea what to do. I was caught between taking my chances with eating something from the boxes, and just moving on. Surely there were other restaurants? But considering how the rest of the day had been, I wasn't ready to assume that this food was unusual for this city. I found what looked a bit like Greek cheese-filled pastries lining the bottom of one box, and decided to take my chances eating that.

The pastries, it turned out, tasted a lot like they'd been filled with shrimp, although the outer crust seemed like it could have come from a soft-shelled crab, and not from any kind of dough. None of it was poisonous, at least. I discovered by accident that a motion sensor in the kitchen turned on one of the sink faucets, so I had a way of getting water. I hadn't thought about where to sleep, but I was tired enough that I settled for one of the restaurant booths in the end. My beginner's luck had given me the best start I was going to have in the city for several days.