Chapter 1
"You don't have to be crazy…"
"Will you look at that view?" Sighs a light-skinned brunette with short wild hair and a slightly wild look. Clad in an assembly of tattered military garb she stands with her face toward the sunset, enjoying the strong breeze.
[What 'view'? Oh, you mean that panoramic eye-searing reminder that you're one of less than a million survivors spread over what's left of the once flourishing continental US? You're one of the few Americans, wait - there is no "U.S.A.", forget nationality - you're one of the few humans remaining from a multi-million person civilization that paved a road to destruction due to pride and poor planning. Yah… it's peachy. You know, you've never even seen a real peach…]
"Shut up!" She flings her right hand out in a slapping gesture.
"Damn you're bitter. You know, it's really not so bad as all that... it's actually kind of nice... when there's no smog... and the scorched clouds separate enough to let the sun through... and the wind isn't blowing up so much dust... and the nibs aren't in a frenzy - I hate the way their movement makes the water seem to boil, like some putrid living soup..."
[You were saying…]
She glares.
"Anyhow, I have a good spot."
[You're only saying that because you know you're safe up here in this pipe and concrete prison...]
"Fortress... It's a pipe and concrete 'fortress'."
[Whatever. You know, the odds of a lone human (you) finding this place were a thousand to one. Seriously, how many abandoned industrial constructs, only moderately damaged, with consumable water and food intact, almost completely uninhabited (but for the few thingies that we won't talk about), with mostly operational machinery remain? None but this I'd wager… You know you're lucky, blessed, and/or favored by the fates otherwise you'd still be wandering or dead. Saving someone's life always generates a level of fondness… that's why you like this place.]
"Shut-it!" She turns putting her hands on her hips irately. "Great Washington's-ghost you're a shit."
[At least I'm not crazy; you're the one talking to yourself – schizo...]
She smiles surreptitiously, turning to lean on the railing again
"Ass…"
[Yes we are.]
...
["Great Washington's-ghost"?]