End of the World Broadcast

The large glass doors that were once the pride of the supermarket had been shattered by someone who drove a car into them.
As if to demonstrate how far one could go in denial for survival, the driver caused people who couldn’t dodge in time to be flattened by broken glass and crushed by the car.
But did his actions pour oil and light a fire on the precarious morality remaining in people?
Following the path he created, riding the wave of abandoning humanity and morality for personal gain, other cars that followed him also brought him death.
Inside the blackened car frame, unable to escape in time, what was he thinking in his final moments?

“I really don’t know whether to say it’s fortunate or unfortunate that the weather is like this.”
Crushed by cars, bodies pierced by thick glass, caught in exploding vehicles.
Even without such accidents, lives lost from being stabbed by knives or shot by guns filled this place.

“If snow hadn’t continued to fall, wouldn’t the numerous corpses here have decomposed?”
The bodies, largely preserved from decay due to the freezing weather, still retained their past appearance despite the long time that had passed.
It’s a horrifying sight that makes me frown involuntarily, even after finding forced stability through cigarettes.
But if the seasons were to cycle, the snow melt, and the temperature rise causing so many corpses to decompose… that would surely be horrific in its own way.
Just imagine insects swarming, crawling all over the floor filled with skeletons, skin, and spilled organs.

“…Indeed, there’s nothing in this world that’s purely good or purely bad.”
…No matter how desperately I needed food, I don’t think I could have easily stepped in.
The inside of the store, past the mountain made not of soil and gravel but of survival instinct, was in a similar state.
Given the situation outside, it would be strange if the inside were clean.
The main difference, if any, is that there are relatively more places to comfortably step.
Unlike the external entrance where, even after expanding the entrance by breaking the glass windows, you had to pass through another gate to enter, the inside of the store was spacious enough for people to spread out.
That was somewhat fortunate, because no matter how much I try not to think about it, stepping on or crushing people becomes mentally draining.

“Ah. There are guide robots here too.”
And if there’s another special feature, it’s that androids are scattered sporadically on the floor.
According to the flyers attached to the mart, these androids were good guys who ‘warmly welcome visitors and guide them to where needed items are located.’
I don’t know why such good guys are holding weapons like guns or batons, though.

“They’re all broken too. It seems the collapse of civilization couldn’t be avoided even by machines.”
The androids lying on the floor were all shattered to pieces.
Someone who doesn’t know they’re robots might think there was a dismemberment murderer, it’s that bad.

“They’ve met a pitiful end. They were just following orders to guide visitors and stop thieves.”
The machines of this world, which had undergone repeated technological advancements, could take on the exact appearance of humans.
Of course, the human form isn’t particularly excellent for various tasks, so most machines had forms suitable for their assigned roles.
But these androids, perhaps because their task was to interact with people among people, looked exactly like their creators.

“By the way, maybe because they look too similar, seeing the robot corpses… no, what should I call them? Damaged bodies… makes me feel strangely uncomfortable.”
Unlike humans, whose muscles stiffen during the dying process and faces become expressionless.
When robots suddenly lose power and become immobile, they maintain the expression and posture they had at the last moment.
As I walked carefully to avoid stepping on people, my foot touched an android’s head.
Even in death, it was staring with wide eyes as if unable to understand the situation.
Next to it was a head with a wide-open mouth and furrowed brow, as if trying to stop someone.
And nearby, another head was looking up at me with a crying face, as if it had sensed that everything was coming to an end.
They died long ago, but they were still questioning me.

“…Even if you ask me ‘why did this happen,’ I don’t know or can’t know anything.”
Even humans who belonged to that era, only a very few would have known how the world around them flowed and why it became like this.
So what I, who woke up late and am walking half a step behind the past, can do is.
Only to make my own guesses about what happened in the past and talk about it any way I want.

“Ugh. It feels so much like real skin, I hate it even more.”
I’m wearing thick gloves, so I don’t directly feel the skin sensation.
But the overall weight, or the movement of the skin when I close their open eyes with my fingers, resembles humans too much.

“Looking at this, I really can’t tell who’s a machine and who’s a person.”
Machines that met their end here due to the missions they were bound to from birth.
And people who couldn’t escape hunger and came here only to lose their lives.

“If I say that not only their appearance but even their end was similar… I guess that would be disrespectful to the deceased.”
I suppose the best I can do now is pray for peace in their next life. Whether they were people or machines.
…Though I don’t know if there really is a next life.

“That corner over there, yes, looking at the banners and the logos on the pillars, it seems like it was a clothing section, don’t you think?”
True to its name, the supermarket sold not just food but a truly vast array of items.
Numerous electronic devices, human-sized moving toy robots, and even expensive clothes and cosmetics.
When this place was full of items, it would have been much faster to find what wasn’t here than what was.

“What on earth were they so desperate for?”
But now, nothing remains.
The display cases and clothing racks that once held various items are smashed just like the entrance, and the items that were there have vanished without a trace.
If it weren’t for the fallen banners or pictures attached to the pillars near the sections, I wouldn’t even be able to guess what was originally sold there.

“Whether it’s clothes or accessories… thinking about it now, there are really only a few items that are absolutely necessary for survival.”
One or two sets of clothes that fit well and are comfortable to move in.
And a few small tools, including flashlights and torches.
With just those, I’ve been living in this desolate city.
And I haven’t really felt any inconvenience in living, at least.

“If they had the resources and time to make and collect such useless things, I feel like saying, ‘Make more edible food instead!'”
If they had, more people could have survived longer, and I wouldn’t have had to step into this hell just to find something to eat.

“But… even if I went back in time and said such things, the people then wouldn’t understand. What I’m seeing is ultimately the world after it’s been destroyed.”
No matter how beautifully and colorfully you fill a blank canvas.
When they pile up and every surface becomes black, the beautiful picture from before becomes invisible.

“Now, these items or people’s actions may seem incomprehensible and pathetic, but surely at that time, these trivial items or personal satisfaction were the driving force for living.”
…And I once lived in such an era too.
Me, who had various game consoles, ate delicious food to my heart’s content, and lived without worries.
If I were to criticize these people for vanity or waste, it would be like spitting while lying down.

“…By the way, weren’t people from the past amazing? How could they build such huge buildings and fill them with all sorts of items?”
People are easily influenced by the words they speak.
Basically, words themselves are created through thoughts about phenomena and then expressed outwardly, so it’s natural.

“The era I lived in was amazing too, but… wandering around this world, I can’t tell what’s normal or general anymore.”
It’s a world where only depressing and complex things remain just by looking, but if I keep talking about such things, I’ll be consumed without even realizing it.
Getting used to loneliness or despair is necessary for survival.
But if it goes beyond getting used to and becomes normal.
If I start to think of death as nothing special and accept extinct life and civilization as they are.
Then I’m likely to meet the same end.

“As time passes… I hope you behind the drone, or people who have left this city, can come here to rebuild and develop the old civilization.”
So I verbalize and express not the phenomena unfolding before my eyes, but the representations I consciously create.
In positive terms, it’s dreaming; in straightforward terms, it’s escapism. I’ve done this many times to survive until now, but this time it’s a bit different.

“When that time comes… we can meet too. I’m looking forward to it. Yes.”
Is it because I think there’s someone listening to my words?
Unlike usual, without forcing the corners of my mouth up, a smile formed naturally.