Normally...Journeys...quests...the idea of a purpose upon an unknown path...they always have some sort of ending...the story ends, and the reader is finished. It is rather hard for the reader to move on to another story when the writer is all but mortal.
I was once mortal, like all humans on this Earth, but fate has always had a harassing sense of purpose with me, before and after the Great War. These words will be of the roads fate has placed my old feet upon. There is so much to tell with the memory I have...However, I primarily write this to maintain any bit of sanity I may have left in mind...Lucidity is quite the difficult thing to hold onto to in a time of madness. I only ask that you do not take what is written here lightly, as much of what is to follow could very well teach the reader a great many things. Yet as always, one must remember that life goes on and its hills will keep coming...but in the end, the hills are nothing new to the mind that has but a tight hold upon the edge of sanity.
In my time, I have seen a great many things, both admirable and horrendous, but very few could ever compare to the skeletal remains of the past civilizations that I once knew as my own era. Many saw a mysterious history when gazing upon them, but not I. I knew them all too well, and remembered every second of the past that I owned...that they were a part of. I could tread endlessly through the irradiated filth and make my way through Hellish areas with little issue or struggle. However when I made my way through these familiar places, they never failed to send attention to the goose bumps upon my skin. I could never stop thinking of the history that I had lived through, however minuscule or tremendous. I could remember the many times that I would go to watch what were known as "movies" and how we would really do nothing but make fun of them, even if they were good. "Movies" for the unfamiliar or third-world reader, were these moving pictures, that spoke their stories often much more elegantly than the words you read now. The sounds, the sites...those two things alone were enough to capture the human interest for a leisurely few hours.
Much of those sounds and sites would still not be enough to describe the from which I originate, because so many of them were basic fiction. They would often over glorify the real world, which was filled with ignorance and civil bloodshed. In my years on this Earth, I have come to learn that almost every war is civil, and almost every conflict is pointlessly fought for the personal gain of those waging it. Thoughts such as this would cross my mind each and every time I walked through the abandoned cities of old. Depending on the climate of the surrounding area, some cities would be over grown with plant life, and ripe with animals and sometimes the two legged talkers. Other cities would be overrun with sand, dust and ash. Buildings like the ones that surrounded me shortly before I wrote this entry were riddled with bullet holes at their feet...But I suppose they were never using those to move anywhere. There were dents in the road I walked from artillery shells and whole fragments of the higher parts of the buildings that were missing from different sorts of explosions. These were the cities that were more often the partially cremated remains of the 21st Century...Through this particular city was the way west and south to my origin, to find myself again and perhaps a shred of purpose. The cloud overhead was a dead green of left over radiation from one of many bombs to be detonated during the Great War.
But I digress, as I am sure that if you have continued to read this, then you have an interest in what I have to say regarding more interesting subjects. Should you ever find me...should we ever meet face to face...I will tell you whatever story that my soul has to offer, but within this text lies the untimely epitaph of humanity's past, and the personal anecdote that is my life, applied as the concrete tombstone upon the grave I hope to one day find.
My name is Adam Raconteur. I was born October the 20th, in the year 1993. My story is never ending, as I share my tale with the tale of all of humanity. My lessons, should you listen and learn are many and hold great value for the future. In this text will you read the story of my life thus far in the year 2234 A.D.