remain nameless

The classical world, the plays of Shakespeare, the Bible, every piece of literature and culture ever made, have all been burned to shreds in the nuclear fallout, lost to everyone except John and his excellent poetic memory. Sometimes he thinks it’s like that crap film, the one where everyone but that one guy forgot about the Beatles. Except instead of the Beatles, it’s all of human culture, ever. The names, the references— they mean nothing to anyone except him. He feels a certain responsibility, for blowing up the entire cultural canon. A shred of guilt. A shard. Sorry, William. Sorry, Geoffrey. Especially sorry, Jane.They exist only in his head, now, and in his friend’s names.--(after the apocalypse, john resurrects and renames.)