Settling Down

"If ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a planet crashed into Earth and you survived in the world's safest place, should you be happy? Or sad because you're the only one left alive?"

I tossed that loaded question at the drone floating beside me, and as always, the chat exploded with back-and-forth.

"Nah, just... looking at this place got me thinking. Doesn't it make you guys feel anything?"

The chat dropped a few lines before they started chattering among themselves. I let out a wry smile watching it all. Yeah, it was a random question.

Man, this place is a total mess.

As usual, I was scavenging an abandoned building when I stumbled on a weird passageway. It led to a half-open door in the dark. Inside was a room so lavish it was hard to believe it was in a rundown structure. But ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it was buried under piles of old wrappers and empty bottles—like a dumpster.

Is this what they call a bunker? Flashy interior, mountains of preserved food (long gone now), entertainment systems and books to beat boredom. I'd only seen these in games or movies in my past life—never stepped foot in one for real.

"Unni, it's too dirty here. Can't we just leave? It stinks bad. Yeah? Let's go~."

"I get it, but we're already in—let's look around a bit. Who knows? We might find something good to eat."

"Not food, just trash. Doesn't look like anything decent's left. We'll smell weird if we stay."

"No complaints. If you hate it that much, we'll speed through and bounce."

"Ughhh."

I kicked aside the trash at my feet and rummaged around. Bunkers should have tons of preserved food, right? But all I grabbed were empty wrappers and bottles. Any food left had spoiled ages ago. The only decent stuff? The games. Dartboard, pool table... even a basketball hoop. All sorts of entertainment.

"Wanna try?"

"No way."

"What's up with you? You love this stuff. Back in the day, people bet on games like these all the time."

"But it's filthy here. Don't wanna play in a dump."

Hope, who bounces at anything new or shiny, turning it down? She must really hate this place.

The chat's grossed out too. You think I like it? I hate stinky, dirty spots as much as anyone. Fine, Hope and chat hate this room—let's check quick and go.

While rifling fast, my hand froze.

This...?

A few empty canned goods like the ones we eat caught my eye. But we just got here. Which means...

"Someone's been here. These cans are fresh."

No signs outside. They must've left already. But too soon to relax. I pulled my gun and chambered a round.

"Unni, come here quick! There's something insane!"

Her urgent voice had me rushing over. When I arrived, my eyes went wide.

Gold bars everywhere, glittering like crazy despite the dust. How many are there? I've never seen this much gold in my life.

"It's all shiny even with dust. Unni, doesn't it look... tasty? None spoiled. We can eat these, right?"

"Sadly, no."

"Eh?! Can't eat 'em?"

"Not food."

"Then what?"

"Gold. Back then, it replaced money or got melted for jewelry."

"Aww, boring."

"It was super valuable. Couldn't buy one even selling all our food."

"That fancy?"

Hope eyed a bar skeptically, then pointed at it. "So we taking it?"

"Well..."

I almost said obviously, but stopped. Hmm. Actually, no need. Valuable once, but now? Pretty rocks you can't eat. Too heavy for souvenirs, just takes space. So much gold, totally useless. I stifled a ridiculous laugh.

"Nah, don't need it. Trash."

"Right? Told ya, boring."

Hope chucked a bar like garbage. We left the gold mountain without a backward glance.

Nothing salvaged after all.

Chat wouldn't shut up about the gold, debating real or fake. No obligation to answer—teasing's more fun. I gave half-assed replies.

Chat turned into chaos at my playful dodges, and I giggled at the reactions.

Outside, the wind picked up ominously.

"Unni, sky's getting dark."

"Clouds mean snow's coming. It's evening anyway—let's crash here tonight."

No need to push late. Dinner done, Hope conked out under her blanket. I finished my journal and gazed out the broken window.

The drone, off all evening, lit up—and chat looped the gold talk. Gold, gold, gold... don't they get bored? Real or fake matter that much? Irrelevant to you guys. I ignored and rambled off-topic.

"Sometimes I just wanna settle somewhere."

"Moving, scouting, repeat—it's exhausting."

Scraping by picking up trash. Sometimes I crave stopping in a nice spot for peace. Looking back, village life was bliss—I didn't appreciate it then.

I meant it straight, but they twisted it—worrying if I'm quitting, sick, or coldly urging "keep streaming."

A thought hit me. "Don't bunkers usually not open from outside?"

"Nah, just..."

I mumbled, staring outside. That room today—not forced open from outside, but from within. First user left on their own. Lots of spoiled food, so they bailed before supplies ran out. Why leave safety? Circumstances? Loneliness? Second visitor same—plenty to do, could've made it a base.

Honestly, cleaned up, it's the best spot we've seen. Probably some rich guy's vanity project from long ago.

Both left anyway.

"If you found a great spot in this ruined world, what'd you do?"

"You think?" Even if the bunker's nice, it's empty. Love to farm like a game, scavenge casually, chill... but impossible.

"Be real. No farming weather, limited supplies—staying means starving soon... ah, that's why."

Yeah, duh. Forgot that. Living with the drone's making me dumb. Chatting feels like 21st century. But this is reality. Everything's trying to kill us. We're surviving that.

"Guess rest is still far off."

Yeah, keep moving till Eden. If it's truly paradise, we can rest easy.

*

The gallery still ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠buzzing.

And like always, that post got buried. Gallery filled with gold debates—real or fake.