There's hush all through the world. Once overflowing with movement, cities presently stand forsaken, their forcing buildings steadily collapsing beneath the weight of renunciation. Streets split as headstrong plants and inching vines take over. Technology's murmur, voices' ceaseless chatter, and industry's unfaltering beat are all gone. Civilisation is over.
At first, there was commotion. In an endeavor to protect arrange in a world that now not worked, individuals clung to obsolete customs. The ancient ways, in any case, fell separated within the nonattendance of governments, power, and the delicate instruments that once kept everything working. Laws got to be echoes of a bygone era, cash misplaced all esteem, and the sole run the show was to outlive.
A few individuals learnt to chase and construct with their hands, grasping the nature and pulling back into mountains and woodlands. Others meandered the ruins in journey of relics from the past, like a voice, a book, or a can of nourishment.
What are we without civilisation? Have we ever been more than creatures posturing as gods? Presently we have no cities, no screens, no countries—just ourselves. And maybe the scariest thing of all is that.