073. A Peaceful Dwelling
After the end of the world, the survivors gradually came to realize a single truth.
“The only thing left in the world is the wasteland. There are no cities, no villages.”
Someone objected, “There’s no evidence that the cities were destroyed, nor any proof that the villages are gone.”
Another said, “I haven’t seen any either. In my opinion, the whole world consists of small settlements scattered across the wasteland, and none of them have any traces of civilization.” As they spoke, the group wandered through the bleak wilderness, passing through ruined valleys; crossing barren plains; traversing dried riverbeds and rocky terrain, their faces tired and weathered. After a long journey, they reached a consensus.
The wasteland is too vast; the number of survivors too few. If the population had once numbered in the billions, then after the world ended, only a handful remained, perhaps only a few million scattered souls, most of whom struggled to survive in isolated pockets, either staying put or wandering.
They were like illiterate children with no knowledge of science. How could they rebuild civilization? Even if they gathered together, what could they do? With no farms, no factories, and no resources, they would remain isolated and powerless.
In this new era, the most precious thing was food. As for the wasteland itself, it was a land without boundaries, with no one knowing where its edge lay. They only knew that the world was vast, the wasteland endless, and every ten years, a migration would sweep across it.
Someone asked, “Is there anywhere worth going?”
A companion smiled, “If there were, it would be too far, and we wouldn’t be able to reach it. We can only choose a few small places, and the rest are out of reach.”
“So what’s the point?” Another questioned, looking around at the tired faces. It seemed that the journey was truly pointless, and the only thing left to do was wander, year after year, always moving, never settling.
“In that case, we’re just chasing after money. Is that it?”
“Not exactly. Look,” a companion pointed to the distant hills, “there’s a place ahead worth visiting.”
“Ahead?”
“Yes, that’s right. It’s the borderlands of the wasteland.” The companion explained, “Everyone knows about it, but only that it’s the boundary between the wasteland and the borderlands. No one knows how it began, nor how it ends. Every ten years, a group of people will migrate to that place.”
Someone laughed, “So what? Let’s go check it out.”
“Let’s go.” The group decided, and set off, questioning the purpose of the journey as they walked.
A companion answered, “Some people say there’s no point, others say it’s the only hope. In the end, we can only travel and see for ourselves.”
“But why?” someone pondered, “If the wasteland is endless, why bother searching for its border?”
The companion shook his head, “On the contrary, the borderlands are essential. Perhaps, before we reach the true end, there are still places worth visiting. Some say the journey is pointless; others say it’s worthwhile, for we might find a new source of hope and discover something new.”
“So that’s the reason.”
The group fell into silence, pondering the question: “What is the point?”
The leader finally spoke, “I think we should go and see for ourselves.”
The companion nodded, “Let’s not just listen to rumors.” Though the leader’s words were slightly hesitant, the group decided to follow him, slowly venturing deeper into the wasteland, searching for a new direction.
The journey was arduous, but the group pressed on.
After a while, someone asked, “Has anyone ever been to the borderlands? What do you think we’ll find there?” The group grew silent, lost in thought.
The companion shook his head, “I’ve never been there myself, nor do I know anyone who has. All I know is, everyone talks about the borderlands as if it’s a mysterious place. Every ten years, a group of people will migrate there.”
Another smiled, “It doesn’t matter. Let’s go and see for ourselves.”
“Let’s go,” the leader said decisively, and the group set off, wondering why they needed to do this.
A companion explained, “Some say there’s no need, but others say there might be hope, so we follow tradition.”
“But tradition,” someone pondered, “means the borderlands are not just a destination, but something more.”
The companion nodded, “Yes, in fact, it’s the opposite of tradition. Maybe, before we reach the true end, there are still places worth visiting. Some say the journey is pointless; others say it’s worthwhile. We might find a new hope, or discover something new.”
“So that’s the reason.”
The group fell silent, each lost in thought, wondering, “What is the point?”
The leader finally spoke, “I think we should go and see for ourselves.”
The companion nodded, “Let’s not just listen to rumors.” Though the leader’s words were slightly hesitant, the group decided to follow him, slowly venturing deeper into the wasteland, searching for a new direction.
The journey was arduous, but the group pressed on.
They walked for days, resting only when necessary. The wasteland stretched on endlessly, and the only landmarks were small settlements and clusters of stones. Sometimes, there were ruins, sometimes nothing, not even a trace of life.
The group eventually arrived at a small inn, a place for travelers to rest, built from ten blocks of stone and a wooden door. It was unremarkable, but as the leader said, “It’s a place to rest, nothing more. We won’t find hope here, but perhaps somewhere beyond this inn.”
Inside, the group found a few beds, some food, and a map. The map was outdated, but it marked the direction of the borderlands. It wasn’t accurate, but it was all they had.
Before leaving, the leader carefully studied the map, and as the group prepared to depart, he pointed to the route, “We’ll follow this path.”
The group set off, traveling for days, crossing valleys and plains, surviving on hope and determination. They encountered other travelers, but most were lost, searching for something, anything.
Many of them were tired, worn out, and unable to continue. The group pressed on, following the map, and finally reached the borderlands.
The wasteland was vast, but the borderlands were even more mysterious. The end of the journey was uncertain, but the group felt a sense of hope.
After resting, the group continued to explore.
The innkeeper was an old man, barely able to stay awake. He had little to offer, but his presence was comforting. The group rested for the night, and as dawn approached, they felt ready to continue their journey.
Thus, they set out, heading towards the borderlands.
On the way, someone asked, “Why is the map so unclear? Why are the directions so vague?”
The leader examined the map, then shrugged, “It’s just an old map. There’s nothing else.”
A companion laughed, pointing to a new route, “There aren’t many options. If you want to find the borderlands, you’ll have to search carefully. Sometimes you won’t know where you’re headed, but that’s the nature of the borderlands.”
The leader lowered his head, sighing, “Perhaps we’ll never find it. Maybe we’re just wandering endlessly, searching for hope.”
“Why?” someone wondered, eyes fixed on the horizon, “Is there nothing special about the borderlands?”
The companion smiled, “It’s not about finding something special. It’s about the journey, the hope of discovering something new.”
After a brief pause, the leader nodded, “Let’s go.”
The group continued their journey, crossing rivers and valleys, sometimes finding food, sometimes nothing. The wasteland stretched on, but the borderlands always seemed just out of reach.
The journey was long, but the group pressed on, determined to find the end.
As they walked, a companion asked, “What will we do when we reach the borderlands?”
The leader replied, “We’ll rest, explore, and perhaps discover something new.”
The companion smiled, “That’s all we can do.”
The journey continued, the group pressing forward, hope guiding them through the endless wasteland.
On the way, they encountered other travelers, each searching for the borderlands, each hoping for something more.
The wasteland was vast, but the borderlands were a symbol of hope—perhaps the only hope left in the world.
The group pressed on, determined to reach the end, and to discover what lay beyond.