Chapter Text
6/18/2023
“...Human science fragments everything in order to understand it, kills everything in order to examine it…”
Nene huddled up in her reading nook, the phrases of such timeless authors as Homer and Dostoyevsky
scrawling through her mind and flowing in the air, projected on the walls in dancing, vagrant expressions.
Before the world came to an end, Nene was never interested in the philosophical or really, anything that wasn’t an idealistic romantic story with a charming and lavish plot or prince to sweep her away.
That mindset stuck with her for a while. She stayed holed up in her bunker every day, reading of noblemen who might show up, declaring their infatuation for her, and whisking her off to a luxuriant palace.
It only took six months for her to realize no one was coming to save her.
Also, reading the same ten teen fantasy-romance novels over and over began chipping at her sanity more than eating cold, canned beans every day ever could…
So, when her senses waned so far she might break, she ventured to the corners of the bunker she’d avoided from pure childish instinct. The fear of being scolded for messing with possessions she wasn’t supposed to lingered still. Those were her parent’s things. They were special, delicate, and not to be touched, right?
Her parents were dead though. And it wasn’t like some dusty books, written by equally dusty old guys, were going to crumble the moment her fingertips glossed their pages.
Back then, she scoffed at the plainly outdated novels, cursing her parents for being boring people of science and philosophy.
“Why can’t you guys just be normal, regular people, like Ao-Chan’s parents?”
That conversation seemed to crop up every time Nene saw them in their lab. They always seemed to be poking at rats or insects in cages, mixing chemicals in vials, or making hush-hush phone conversations. She never really understood the importance or danger of their work until the war and the virus.
Now after three years of maturing, mourning, and hiding, Nene still only had a surface-level understanding. It was the kind she could gather from the radio broadcasts, unfortunately, which stopped after the first few months of her isolation. To be honest, she was too scared, too wrapped in her own head to think about the prospect of a deadly war, a deadly virus, or take a look outside…
Her stomach whined, rumbling low, like a caged dog.
Nene’s breathing hitched a little, had it really been that long since she’d eaten? Fingers trembling, she placed a handcrafted cat bookmark in her reading, closing it slowly and relishing the soft accession of the pages falling into one another.
Standing to her feet, the blood rushed to her head, sending stars in her vision and lightheadedness that made her clutch the arm of her chair. It definitely had been too long since she’d last had something to eat. She took uneven breaths, squeezing her eyes shut and gripping the chair with white knuckles.
Steady again, she paced towards the exit of her safety shelter of blankets and pillows and cozy reading lamps, into the dark stretch of the bunker’s storage. Long fluorescent lights dangled precariously from the concrete ceiling, lighting her path through narrow hallways.
Empty. Empty. Empty.
Nene paced around the space, back and forth through every hallway. She knew she was out of food, she’d known since at least three days ago. She’d hoped by some miracle she could make herself forget her hunger, absorbing herself into philosophic readings more than she usually did. Now she was just grasping at straws, hoping for a scrap of food. Some preserved food rolled under a shelving unit or tucked away somewhere hidden.
god.
She wouldn’t even complain about a dinted, bloated can of beans at that point.
After pacing the storeroom countless times, Nene rested her head on the metal shelf, lightly banging it into the structure in a repetitive motion as tears dripped over her eyelashes. Her stomach didn’t relent from tormenting her. She slumped to the ground, clasping her arms around her waist and sinking into a sad heap,
Somehow, sleep found her there.