Ash floats softly through the air. No wind, no birds, not a single sound. The sun looks dimmer every day, I cannot tell if it is my failing vision or really happening.

I see a weed poking through a crack in the ground, the first time I've seen green in a year. I smile, only for a moment, before returning back to reality.

Any survivors left have one thing on their minds. It is inescapable. Could we have prevented the "Trans incident"?