Hungry hordes roam the streets, ranging long distances in the search for food. Shops and offices stand deserted, unlit and empty beneath a chill grey sky.
The apocalypse? Not quite. It’s only March 2012, so we should be good for a few months yet. But in Boston’s Back Bay, where a transformer fire belched clouds of eye-stinging black smoke, last night bore more than a passing resemblance to the end times. From the boston.com article: ‘‘It just kind of feels like a movie,’’ [a college student] said. ‘‘All the streets are turned off and the cop lights and the sounds, the helicopter sounds.’’
Some twelve hours after the fire, much of the Back Bay area remains dark. Policemen direct traffic the old-fashioned way, and the streets—besides the massed emergency and NSTAR vehicles—are sparsely populated. To this blogger, too, it looks like a scene from a movie, one set in a not-too-distant, not-too-friendly future.
My coworkers—my office building has miraculously retained power—take to the streets for food during their lunch breaks. Reports of possible opportunities to find lunch fly from phone to inbox with inhuman speed, but the competition for food is fierce, and each food source is rapidly swarmed.
Meanwhile, I walk as far as the refrigerator and grab myself a fresh sandwich and some veggies. (I would share, but no one would know what to do with them.) Even if the refrigerator died, I could survive on the protein-rich spoils of my desk. And speaking of walking, no flimsy high heels for me. My boots are the same sturdy-yet-stylish ones my New England foremothers wore, and they’re made for walking.
Now I just have to make sure that with all this food, I don’t get too soft to outrun the zombies.