Illustration by Joi Rudin.
Joshua sipped his pouch of Karaguchi Coffee while contemplating the sunrise. He'd heard from other hikers how beautiful the sunrises were inside what used to be Denali National Park. Still, it had really taken him by surprise. The colors of the morning felt surreal. He was relieved everything was as magnificent as he'd heard.
He couldn't remember a moment in his life he didn't want to visit this place. Old tech enthusiasts like Joshua called Denali National Park the Epicenter of Extinction, and visiting the derelict antenna in the park was almost a pilgrimage for many, a trip everyone fascinated by the old world should make.
The previous night had been tense. The path he was traveling was deemed "moderately unsafe" in the forums he participated in, primarily due to the presence of wildlife in the area. There was no government actively preserving what used to be the park; there weren't any park rangers guarding the place; there was just a fence with a big sign warning about the dangers of being there. Getting in was easy, but getting lost was easier.
Wild animals, especially mammals, were all considered infected with megalorabies. Getting bitten meant certain death without treatment. And here, in the middle of an abandoned nature reserve, far from any Schäffer & Schäffer Health Center, that death would be slow and painful. Joshua had spent the night inside his tent, imagining he could hear animals outside. He was terrified of being mauled by a bear or a wolf, but somehow, he was even more scared of a squirrel chewing his way through the tent's fabric and getting bitten. He thought it'd be the most pathetic death, getting megalorabies from an almost cute rodent, hallucinating from dehydration for days, only to die before he could even reach his destination. Dying so close to his goal would have been the saddest thing. Luckily, no squirrels were around, or his tent was quite resistant.
After the coffee was gone, he checked the map on his holopad, ate a protein bar, and started walking. He was close now; still five hours until noon, but he'd be at the Denali Antenna by then. He'd wanted to make this trip for years now, to see where the beginning of the end for the United States took place. The Solar Flare happened decades before he was born, but Joshua had been obsessed with the subject since he was little. Other kids in his class wanted to see the Pacific Garbage Patch, a whole city built of trash, or dreamt of being astronauts and joining Project Plutus. Regardless, Joshua's only interest was the Solar Flare, the calamity that cut every telecommunication for days.
He'd spent every childhood afternoon reading encyclopedia articles and looking at drawings that tried to explain how an unexpected solar event had unleashed a massive electromagnetic pulse that sent humanity back to the dark ages for almost a week. By the time the whole thing was over and humanity recovered some of its technology, the world had been changed forever. Governments had collapsed, corporate monopolies had begun to form, and there was no going back. When he was small, the whole thing seemed like the work of a comic book supervillain or a god. Now that he was older, he felt nature had to be a mixture of both. Still, the entropy called out to him, beckoning him to go to that place, which was the beginning of the end for so many things and people.
Joshua didn't mind the paradigm shift. He wasn't moved by the political or economic debacle society suffered due to the Solar Flare. Those concepts felt fake to him, things that would lose their power if people stopped believing in them. Joshua craved physical experiences; he wanted to feel alive. And what experience could be more lively than going to the highest spot in North America, where the atmosphere is at its thinnest, and feeling the sun on his skin at its strongest? The sun, after all, is the power source that made life on Earth possible. It was funny to Joshua that it ended up also being the cause of so much destruction.
The trail Joshua followed was almost invisible. Once upon a time, it might have been a proper path used by those visiting the park or those who maintained the Denali Antenna when it was functional. Now, the grass covered everything, and only the ghost of the path remained. Still, he moved on.
The antenna started appearing behind a bend in the road almost three hours before noon. Joshua pressed on. At first, he could only see the dark metallic tip of the antenna against the blue sky, but eventually, the massive structure revealed itself. A gargantuan, imposing triangular construction, almost 500 meters tall, with dozens of fishbone arrays at the top. The pipes and steel beams that made up the antenna were so big they were almost grotesque. Joshua imagined that it must have been proof of human ingenuity in the past.
The telecommunications company that built it boasted it could single-handedly manage all transmissions from Alaska to the Equator. Eventually, most other antennas shut down, and Denali was the only operational one. When the Solar Flare hit, Denali was the first antenna in the world to go down. With no backup, two-thirds of the American continent plunged into mayhem.
The metal behemoth was now useless and corroded, a forgotten giant's corpse. Joshua was there now, at the genesis of all that chaos. He put his backpack, rolled-up tent, and sleeping bag on the ground, removed his jacket and shirt, and began climbing the antenna. For the first thirty minutes, Joshua climbed the maintenance steps welded to the inside, and when those ran out, he started clutching any ledge that seemed strong enough to support his weight. Every piece of metal he grabbed left flakes of rust on his hands; every time he pulled himself up, the antenna creaked and shook, its metal bones struggling to support him. His breathing was off; the altitude made him gasp, but he climbed on. There were minutes left until noon, and Joshua had reached the top. He grabbed the highest array, pulled himself up, sat on it, and looked up.
The warmth of the sun flooded every pore on his skin. How could something that felt this nice be the cause of so much destruction? He wondered how it would have felt to sit atop the highest antenna in North America when the Solar Flare's EMP had hit. Would it have been even warmer than this? Did the structure rattle and shake? Was the Flare visible even though it occurred during the day? He had so many questions and so little answers. He stood up and looked down. He was happy he'd made it here. Dying to a squirrel would have been so dumb.
He couldn't remember a moment in his life he didn't want to visit this place. Old tech enthusiasts like Joshua called Denali National Park the Epicenter of Extinction, and visiting the derelict antenna in the park was almost a pilgrimage for many, a trip everyone fascinated by the old world should make.
The previous night had been tense. The path he was traveling was deemed "moderately unsafe" in the forums he participated in, primarily due to the presence of wildlife in the area. There was no government actively preserving what used to be the park; there weren't any park rangers guarding the place; there was just a fence with a big sign warning about the dangers of being there. Getting in was easy, but getting lost was easier.
Wild animals, especially mammals, were all considered infected with megalorabies. Getting bitten meant certain death without treatment. And here, in the middle of an abandoned nature reserve, far from any Schäffer & Schäffer Health Center, that death would be slow and painful. Joshua had spent the night inside his tent, imagining he could hear animals outside. He was terrified of being mauled by a bear or a wolf, but somehow, he was even more scared of a squirrel chewing his way through the tent's fabric and getting bitten. He thought it'd be the most pathetic death, getting megalorabies from an almost cute rodent, hallucinating from dehydration for days, only to die before he could even reach his destination. Dying so close to his goal would have been the saddest thing. Luckily, no squirrels were around, or his tent was quite resistant.
After the coffee was gone, he checked the map on his holopad, ate a protein bar, and started walking. He was close now; still five hours until noon, but he'd be at the Denali Antenna by then. He'd wanted to make this trip for years now, to see where the beginning of the end for the United States took place. The Solar Flare happened decades before he was born, but Joshua had been obsessed with the subject since he was little. Other kids in his class wanted to see the Pacific Garbage Patch, a whole city built of trash, or dreamt of being astronauts and joining Project Plutus. Regardless, Joshua's only interest was the Solar Flare, the calamity that cut every telecommunication for days.
He'd spent every childhood afternoon reading encyclopedia articles and looking at drawings that tried to explain how an unexpected solar event had unleashed a massive electromagnetic pulse that sent humanity back to the dark ages for almost a week. By the time the whole thing was over and humanity recovered some of its technology, the world had been changed forever. Governments had collapsed, corporate monopolies had begun to form, and there was no going back. When he was small, the whole thing seemed like the work of a comic book supervillain or a god. Now that he was older, he felt nature had to be a mixture of both. Still, the entropy called out to him, beckoning him to go to that place, which was the beginning of the end for so many things and people.
Joshua didn't mind the paradigm shift. He wasn't moved by the political or economic debacle society suffered due to the Solar Flare. Those concepts felt fake to him, things that would lose their power if people stopped believing in them. Joshua craved physical experiences; he wanted to feel alive. And what experience could be more lively than going to the highest spot in North America, where the atmosphere is at its thinnest, and feeling the sun on his skin at its strongest? The sun, after all, is the power source that made life on Earth possible. It was funny to Joshua that it ended up also being the cause of so much destruction.
The trail Joshua followed was almost invisible. Once upon a time, it might have been a proper path used by those visiting the park or those who maintained the Denali Antenna when it was functional. Now, the grass covered everything, and only the ghost of the path remained. Still, he moved on.
The antenna started appearing behind a bend in the road almost three hours before noon. Joshua pressed on. At first, he could only see the dark metallic tip of the antenna against the blue sky, but eventually, the massive structure revealed itself. A gargantuan, imposing triangular construction, almost 500 meters tall, with dozens of fishbone arrays at the top. The pipes and steel beams that made up the antenna were so big they were almost grotesque. Joshua imagined that it must have been proof of human ingenuity in the past.
The telecommunications company that built it boasted it could single-handedly manage all transmissions from Alaska to the Equator. Eventually, most other antennas shut down, and Denali was the only operational one. When the Solar Flare hit, Denali was the first antenna in the world to go down. With no backup, two-thirds of the American continent plunged into mayhem.
The metal behemoth was now useless and corroded, a forgotten giant's corpse. Joshua was there now, at the genesis of all that chaos. He put his backpack, rolled-up tent, and sleeping bag on the ground, removed his jacket and shirt, and began climbing the antenna. For the first thirty minutes, Joshua climbed the maintenance steps welded to the inside, and when those ran out, he started clutching any ledge that seemed strong enough to support his weight. Every piece of metal he grabbed left flakes of rust on his hands; every time he pulled himself up, the antenna creaked and shook, its metal bones struggling to support him. His breathing was off; the altitude made him gasp, but he climbed on. There were minutes left until noon, and Joshua had reached the top. He grabbed the highest array, pulled himself up, sat on it, and looked up.
The warmth of the sun flooded every pore on his skin. How could something that felt this nice be the cause of so much destruction? He wondered how it would have felt to sit atop the highest antenna in North America when the Solar Flare's EMP had hit. Would it have been even warmer than this? Did the structure rattle and shake? Was the Flare visible even though it occurred during the day? He had so many questions and so little answers. He stood up and looked down. He was happy he'd made it here. Dying to a squirrel would have been so dumb.
Written by Espeche, original idea by Espeche.