Earth, 2036. The aftershocks of the third World War still echo across the globe. Hundreds of thousands lay dead in shallow graves, and millions more are strewn like dead leaves across the landscape. The ground is ruined, its once gently sloping lines pocked with craters and cracks, and the majestic crags of the mountains rounded into mere shadows of their former glory. All across the face of the Earth, a wind blows, a wind carrying death in its wings.

Half a year before, this land was full of buildings, straight, tall, and unyielding, akin the pride of their makers. Now both had fallen, husks of their former glory.

Earth, 2020. Cities have covered the face of every civilized nation. Crops are grown and sold in huge towers in sprawling metropolises. Geothermal power abounds. Yet, there are many people who starve and who live with only the barest of necessities. The metropolises are slums, and the rich stand on the backs of the poor. They give them bread and circuses to appease them, and many are content with that, having known nothing better.

Earth, 2024. Africa, having been so long "uncivilized", attracts many dissidents. Deep in the Sahara Desert, the Rebellion is conceived. They begin to work furiously, plotting, conspiring, and most importantly, building. The rich sit in their palaces, not knowing that their demise is soon.

Earth, 2030. After six years of struggle, the Rebellion finishes uniting Africa under their rule, but many things were lost in the battle. Though they had accomplished the initial step in their plan, their original intent had been subverted into something much different than it had been in the beginning. Under the guise of their old loyalty lay a new plan: Conquer the World.

Earth, 2035. The Federated States of Africa now resembled a "civilized" nation, every whit. From the subjugation of the poor to the sprawling metropolises, they were modern in every sense of the word. On the second day of sixth month, they launched their attack on the world. The skies turned black as the FSA's bombers covered the skies like locusts. The hills seethed with its infantry, mad with the concept of freedom their nation no longer supported. This initial attack struck a spark that lit the entire world on fire. It was every man for himself, and each man wanted everything. After six months of warfare, the Earth lay in complete rubble with only a few thousand humans left to tell the tale. The third World War ended.

(Note: Nuclear warfare was not used as they were all dismantled in the year 2017 in the Treaty of Tehran. Instead, conventional bombs were used, but very powerful ones.)

Keith Gribbs closed his book. It was a worn, tattered thing, slightly burnt at the edges. In the center, a few pages were torn out, but it was the best that could be expected now. Putting aside the book, he stood up and stretched inside the small, ground-level apartment he was staying the night in. Glancing out of the barred window, he saw it was a cool, cloudless Georgia night. time to get on the move, he thought, and grabbing his rucksack, he was on his way south.

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