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It was almost funny, Techno supposed, walking around in a zombie apocalypse wearing double denim - a Canadian tuxedo, his sisters had called it, laughing at him the whole time – but the truth remained that while the zombies were decidedly not fully human anymore, their teeth and jaws still were, and human teeth were not made to rip through jean jackets from the '80s.
It had been his first instinct when the news broke, to go through his dad's old clothes from back before his parents had been together and find anything usable. His sisters had cared about food, mostly, but he'd kept them home. The grocery stores would be overrun with people, and scared crowds are dangerous. He'd tossed them all a jacket, be it leather or jean, so long as it was sturdy, he didn't care, and told them to turn on the taps. They'd filled the bathtub, bottles, buckets, and any other container they could find with water, ensuring they at least wouldn't die to dehydration. His sisters hadn't complained then, and something about the whole ordeal reminded Techno of when his brothers would bully his youngest sister, how she'd walk into his room crying, and he'd let her play Minecraft or read or cuddle up to his side while he kept her safe.
He vowed that day to keep all three of them safe, no matter the price he'd have to pay.
It had been five years since the news broke and the world crumbled apart. Now, amidst the rubble, society persisted. People rebuilt, rediscovered. Humanity found its way back to technology and compassion. It had been five years since the continents not connected via land could communicate, but the New Hope Ferry had returned safely from its maiden voyage, bringing home news from England, carrying European passengers who told stories about how Eurasia had fared in the face of destruction, how it had been immigrants who'd taught them how to survive, how borders had opened and people had united with strangers for survival.
It brought promises, too. Promises of safe passage to the other side. Promises of reuniting with friends and family who had been stuck on the other side of the ocean when everything went down. Promises that Techno, now 26, couldn't resist.
He'd left his sisters in the care of the commune they'd joined, trusting his new family to take care of them. Trusting them, too, to take care of themselves. His youngest sister was fifteen now, and these days that made her old enough to survive should she get lost outside the confines of their home. They could live without him for a bit, he'd decided, and packed his bag, pulled on his jacket, and started the old motorcycle they'd found behind the school the commune lived in. They didn't use it much, since gas was so scarce, but situations like this warranted an exception.
He arrived at the New York harbor on a chilly March morning, the kind that doesn’t show your breath but fogs up your glasses if you blow on them, two days before the New Hope was set to leave. The Harbor was packed with people milling about, buzzing from ship to ship to unload everything from the trading vessels that went to Canada and Mexico and Brazil. Each ship carried the flag of their commune or region, followed by the old American flag and the New York state flag, an indicator of the ship's home port. Amongst those trading boats, made for following the coastline, lay a beautiful sailing ship. It had been top of the line back in 2021, the captain boasted, and had been modified so the engine, which would take it out of the harbor, could run on hydrogen.
Speaking of the captain, she was stood on deck, staring out over the harbor, when Techno called up to her.
“Hey,” he'd started, a slight ache in his throat from not having talked in two days, “how do I book passage on the New Hope?” She frowned at him for a second before pointing to a sign-up sheet that had been nailed to a nearby post. It had a mechanical pencil next to it, tangling from a piece of twine. Techno signed his name amongst the maybe forty others, and noted that there were only two more places left. While spending six weeks on a small sailboat with fifty strangers didn't sound particularly inviting, Techno reminded himself that it would be worth it. Whatever he'd find, it'd be worth it.
The next six weeks were filled mostly by card games and shaky alliances. Everyone on board the ship was acutely aware that they'd split up as soon as they reached their respective harbor, so their connections couldn't be considered friendships. Not really. There was something almost familial about it, though, Techno supposed as he sat around an abandoned card game and a torch that filled the air with a harsh blue light, surrounded by strangers who he'd told everything about the people he loved.
He'd been sipping on his drink, some kind of fruit juice with moonshine mixed in, and staring up at the stars when the person next to him, he hadn't bothered to learn her name, had handed him a chunk of the bread roll she'd been eating. Something about the way she'd done it so casually, not even looking at him as she held it out, his heart ache.
The two of them talked two more times over the last week of the trip, mostly about absolutely nothing over games and lunch, and a brief conversation where she talked about her family in Lithuania, and how she hoped to see them again. Techno told her stories about Wilbur in return. They didn't say goodbye when the ship landed, but Techno knew he'd remember his nameless sister for the rest of his life, and he internally wished her well on her travels.
Dover was the third stop the New Hope Ferry made, right after Ireland and Scotland, and before Calais and Rotterdam, and it was the stop Techno would be getting off at. He'd considered for stopping in Scotland instead, but Phil was the only person he'd be looking for in the North, and though he longed to see him, he knew there was a bigger chance of finding Will or Tommy, maybe even Tubbo. Any one of his brothers would do, and they just tended to live in the South. He'd still go asking for Phil though, with the faint hope that he and Kristin had chosen to head to Brighton.
The famous white cliffs had been visible for a while before they finally landed and Techno understood now, at last, every poem that had ever been composed about the English coast. He understood the way writers would make love to her, the way their words dripped with a sorrowful desire. The way every single one of them wanted to hurl themselves into the water below. The cliff face rose above the tumultuous sea in a way that reminded Techno, no matter how silly it made him feel, of Sam's prison on the SMP.
God, he hadn't thought about Sam in forever. He hadn't thought about a lot of people in forever. Part of him wanted to get off in Rotterdam instead, the part that was sure that he'd find his brothers dead, the part that figured he'd always been less attached to Fundy and Niki, that maybe finding them like that instead would be more palatable. That part of him was quickly shut down, however, by the part that had been sick to its stomach for the past five years, just wanting certainty, even if that certainty came in the form of Phil, Will, and Tommy lying dead on the ground, eyes empty but wide, like their last moments had been filled with terror, mouths still open in a silent scream and-
Techno stopped himself to the best of his abilities, focusing instead on the cliffs in front of him and the salty wind in his hair. His roots had grown in pretty dramatically by now, and he wished he'd taken some dye with him, just so he could feel like himself. For now, he just had to live with his roots, and hope there was some lone Hot Topic somewhere in Brighton that he could loot.
He tied his hair back to keep it out of his face and made his way down to where his pack laid. The captain had told everyone who wanted to go to England to get ready as soon as they could to the crew could do everything without people bustling about trying to leave the ferry.
Techno stood on deck as they entered the harbor, and took in the fixed-up buildings. England, much like the US, had clearly fallen into disrepair at the start of the crisis, only to be fixed up again in the past two years, leading to a lot of building with metal and wooden modifications, and modern technologies being installed in everything. From his vantagepoint, Techno could see what looked like hydrogen-powered generators on top of several buildings that lined the harbor. The textile business had clearly not had as much of a comeback as electricity had, another fact America shared, as evident in the way everyone's clothes looked worn down.
Unlike the US, however, was the carts riding around. They were unloading the ships in the harbor and looked a little like golf carts. Their silence revealed them to be electric, and Techno vaguely wondered how they worked. Maybe the commune could salvage some carts from somewhere and hook them up with hydrogen engines.
He stepped foot on solid ground again in Dover, after following the ruthless rocking of the ocean for six weeks, and had to steady himself against a lamppost. One of the harbor workers shot him an apologetic look before continuing his drive. Now, the issue of actually finding his friends rose to his mind again. He looked back at the ship for a second as he willed away his nausea and squinted at the captain's figure. She'd told him the name of a bar that might have “some people who know some things” which was way too vague for Techno's liking, but it was the only lead he had. He sighed, resigning himself to his fate, and started following the directions he'd been given.
The bar, named the King's Rest, was located only a few streets away from the docks, but with the way European city planning worked, it took him half an hour to find the joint. Its woodwork was painted black and seemed older than New York, which it probably was. The lettering had peeled off a little and the empty spots filled in with yellow paint, a stark contrast to the original gold. The windows were clean, though, and the place looked inviting enough as Techno walked in. It was busier than you'd expect from a bar in the middle of the day, but Techno reminded himself that that just meant that he was likelier to find someone who could help him.
He sat down at the end of the bar that was closest to the door, still wanting an escape route, and waited for a bartender. He didn’t have to wait long before one of them made her way over. He realized right then that he had no money, and ignored his parched throat as he instead asked her for information.
“You'll wanna talk to Bill over there. If anyone knows, it's gonna be him,” she said, pointing to a man sat at a table near the window. He was sat hunched over a mug, and Techno hoped to himself that coffee was all the man had been drinking, and was wearing a brown leather jacket. He was balding and his clothes hung off of him. Techno figured he'd probably lost weight in the past five years.
Techno carefully made his way over, ensuring that he didn't bump into anyone on the way. He eventually ended up standing next to Bill and cleared his throat, sitting down when he got a vague wave to the other chair in return. A waitress wordlessly topped up Bill's coffee before setting a glass of water down in front of Techno and assuring him that it was free.
“If Mindy sent you here then you either want information or a story,” Bill said, finally looking up to meet Techno's eyes.
“Information, yeah. I'm looking for an old friend of mine,” Techno replied, taking a sip of his water afterwards. Bill raised his eyebrows slightly and leaned back, settling into the back of his chair.
“Where's your friend from?”
“Newcastle,” Techno replied. If this didn't work out, he could always try to ask about Will, or just walk to Brighton from Dover. Bill shot him a worried look, one that filled Techno's stomach with fear.
“There's not a lot of people who made it out of the North, that's where the Virus started,” Bill told him, and the fear in Techno's abdomen turned into straight-up lead. He'd seen the Virus victims, of course, there were plenty of Floridians in New Jersey, but he didn't know it wasn't just America that was affected.
“What was your friend's name? We'll drink to them,” Bill said, pulling Techno back out of his thoughts.
“I knew him as Philza but his name was-”
“Phil Watson!” Bill interrupted him, and the lead got a little lighter.
“Yeah, do you know him?” Techno asked, something akin to hope in his voice. Bill nodded, leaning forward to rest his hands on the table and smiling at Techno.
“Know him? I spent three months with him before we split up. Last I heard he was heading to the South coast, something about his son,” That made Techno laugh. Of course Phil would still call Will his kid in the middle of the damn apocalypse. Bill chuckled with him, drinking his coffee.
“He went to Brighton, then, to find Wilbur?” Techno asked, just to be sure that he'd interpreted everything right.
“Yup, I've been meaning to send him something but I don't know where he is or if he ever found his son,” Bill confirmed before fishing an envelope out of his jacket pocket. “Could you give him this if you ever find him?” he asked, sliding the paper over to Techno.
Techno nodded, slipping it into the breast pocket of his jean jacket.
“I never asked for your name, by the way, you mind telling me?” Bill asked then, motioning for a waitress to fill his mug again.
“It's Techno.”
“I'll forgive you the weird name since you're American. You're here with the Ferry?”
Techno chuckled a little.
“Yeah, second voyage. And the name is more of a nickname that just kinda stuck. Not much use for legal names now anyways.”
Bill shrugged, nodding slightly.
“Well the name's familiar at least, are you one of Phil's not-kids?” He asked, thanking the waitress in between breaths. Techno just nodded as an answer and smiled to himself. Phil was alive, and he might be with Will.
The next hurdle was figuring out how to get to Brighton. This dilemma was easily solved however, when Techno walked out of the bar and immediately came face to face with a map of southern England. The heavily faded sign had been scribbled on with some kind of black sharpie, crossing out some roads and drawing others, and Techno quickly pulled out his notebook to make a rough copy of the route. At some point, Bill left the bar and yelled a goodbye to Techno from across the street. Techno waved in response and patted his chest, promising to deliver the letter.
The sun was setting by the time Techno finished drawing the map, and panic gripped his throat as he realized he didn't really have anywhere to sleep. He could just roll out his sleeping bag and take what he could get in terms of rest on the sidewalk, but maybe the locals wouldn't be too happy about that. He looked around for something like a bench or even just a concrete slab, anything that would get him off of the ground, when he felt a hand tap his shoulder. He turned around to see the bartender from earlier. Mindy, Bill had called her.
“We have a couch in the back if you need it,” she said, already turning to go back inside.
“I can't pay you,” Techno replied, but she waved for him to come in, and he didn't dare refuse such an offer.
The back room was cramped, with a door that opened in and did very little to muffle the sounds from the bar out front. But the couch, though dusty, looked more comfortable than the ground, and at least he'd have a roof over his head.
“Jessie, one of our girls, used to crash here whenever she had the night shift. She's only working days now, though, so you can have it for the night,” she told Techno. He opened his mouth to protest, wanting to compensate her in some way, but she raised her hand to cut him off. “It's free. A friend of Bill's is a friend of mine,” With that, she exited the room, leaving Techno to get some sleep before his trek through England began.
The next morning met him with the smell of bacon and a pillow hitting his face. Mindy was standing over him, a plate of eggs and ham in her hand, glass of water on the shelf behind her.
“Get up. I know a guy that can take you to Brighton by boat. He'll drop you off in the marina and from there you're on your own,” she said while Techno shoveled the food into his mouth. He realized then that the pit in his stomach hadn't just been anxiety, but also hunger. “And before you ask me why I'm doing this again, I already told you. Bill's family. If he likes you then I like you,” she effectively cut Techno off before he even opened his mouth. He decided instead to just chug his water before shoving his sleeping bag back into his pack.
Mindy told him as he left that her friend, Jack, would be at the docks, and that his boat was painted neon orange, so he'd definitely stand out.
Techno came to realize, over the next few days, that the color of his boat wasn't the only thing that stood out about Jack. Jack liked many things, like cars and women and scale models of parliament buildings. He had a mohawk that perfectly matched his ship, which was honestly impressive and Techno suspected it was because Jack colored his hair with spray paint. Jack also really liked Techno's hair, which was nice, and offered to redo his roots but make them green instead since he didn't have any other colors.
Jack also really really liked his wife. It wasn't in a gross way or anything. It was just than whenever his love for women came up in a conversation, which happened with a frequency that reminded Techno of Tommy, he was very quick to assure Techno that those days were behind him, of course, now that he was married. This conversation went hand in hand with Jack showing off the simple silver wedding band he wore. It wasn't real silver, he told Techno, but it was silver-plated and his wife had hand-made it for him.
Jack's wife, who Techno never did end up learning the name of since Jack just loved saying “my wife”, also seemed to be quite the character. For starters, she made jewelry from every bit of metal she could get her hands on, and liked adorning her husband with necklaces and piercings. On top of that, Jack had told Techno that she was the one who painted the boat, and apparently she had matched it perfectly to his hair.
All in all, the two days Techno spent with Jack had been everything but uneventful, and Techno was almost sad to arrive at the Brighton Marina. He was sure that whatever came next would be less lighthearted than this journey had been.
Jack pulled into the marina early in the afternoon and handed Techno the plank to he could leave without having to jump down onto the docks with his pack. He pointed Techno towards a nearby commune, assuring him that they'd be able to help.
“They're up in the Roedean buildings. The entrance is to the south, so if you just take the main road east, you should be able to find them,” Jack said, pulling the plank back in and putting it back in its place by the railing. Techno bade him a final farewell and thanked him gain before setting off, heading east.
The Roedean buildings Jack had talked about were already visible by the time Techno left the marina, only being a few hundred meters away, and Techno internally thanked Mindy and Jack again. It'd have taken him weeks to get here otherwise, and while it was true that he'd been waiting five years, and a few weeks wouldn't have mattered in the grand scheme of things, it had been five years and Techno just couldn't wait anymore.
The walk, though short, was a nice bit of peace Techno hadn't had since his arrival to England and gave him some time to clear his head. His conversation with Bill had gotten his hopes up enough that every part of him (apart from the nagging voice in the back of his head) was sure that Phil was alive, or at least he had been four years ago when Bill last saw him. Everyone else's fate was still just as unclear as it always had been. There was a chance, quite a big one, that Phil wasn't in Brighton, and Techno definitely hated that fact. But at the same time, there was a chance that he was, and Techno had to pursue this avenue.
There was also the part of him that realized that Bill hadn't mentioned Kristin.
He reached the fence that surrounded the Roedean buildings (which had been a school, according to the signs) with more anxiety than he'd had when he left Jack. The fences were made from mismatched wood, probably stolen from piers and docks and backyards all over Brighton, and generally stood out as something that was definitely made in the past five years.
“Hey! What are you doing here?” a voice called from the fence. Techno looked up to see a kid, maybe seventeen, looking down at him. They didn't seem like they wanted to hurt him, but years of living through the literal fucking apocalypse had put Techno a little on edge, and he shifted to a defensive stance nonetheless. The kid sighed and stood up, peeking over the fence a bit more.
“I'm not going to hurt you, I just wanted to know,” they said, scanning the rest of the road. Techno sighed. He needed information, maybe the kid could help him.
“I'm lookin’ for an old friend, I think he might be here,” he supplied and the kid nodded.
“What's your friend's name?” they asked.
“Phil Watson,” Techno replied, taking note of the way the kid perked up and reached for what looked like a police radio hanging off their belt. They brought it up to their face and started talking.
“Boss, someone's asking about old Philza,” they were silent for a second as the person on the other side replied something Techno couldn't quite hear from his spot on the ground. He wondered for a second how the kid remained perched on the fence like that.
“White, American, pink hair, glasses, a little over six feet,” the kid said before nodding to whatever they were told and jumping down on the other side of the fence. A few seconds later the doors swung open and Techno walked through.
“Welcome to high school,” the kid mumbled as they mock-bowed.
Behind the fence stretched meadows with sheep and cows, cut up by a system of crude paths and fences that were nothing more than low poles and rope. The path that Techno found himself on lead directly to the yellow buildings on top of the hill that Techno had seen during his walk. There were a few people milling about, tending to the livestock, and the kid waved to one of them before pulling Techno along, leading him up the hill.
The inside of the school was a maze, Techno realized as he was pulled through corridor upon corridor. He counted at least four sets of stairs before the kid finally came to a halt in front of a room whose chipped paint faintly read “Principal's Office”. The kid knocked something, a simple rhythm of three-one-three before swinging the door open and there he was.
Right in front of him, with someone talking in the background, stood Phil.
The past five years had worn on him, and he looked tired. He'd clearly lost weight during the start of the apocalypse, more than what was healthy, but that didn't matter now because he was here and he was real and he was safe and he was opening his arms and Techno didn't have it in him to refuse as tears clouded his eyes.
Techno was openly sobbing by the time he pulled back from the hug, and he could feel Phil sniff a few times. He could feel Phil do that and something about that made it hurt so much more. He kept his hands on Phil's shoulders as they separated and he could see the other smile through his tears.
“Hiya mate,” Phil finally broke the silence.
That only broke Techno more as he launched himself back into Phil's arms, and he tried to ignore the awkward angle as he let the other hold him. This time, he didn't pull back until he stopped crying, and he could only imagine how weird this situation must be for everyone else in the room. He could feel Phil's laugh in the other's chest and finally decided to free himself from the hug.
“I really hope you're actually who I think you are, otherwise this is gonna get real weird real fast,” Phil said with a light laugh.
“It's me, Phil, it's Techno,”