The world can be a strange place. Scriptures of a far off doomsday flash before me and I revel in them, disbelieving their content.

The detail of description is alarming though. I imagine myself, assuming control as the citizens of a broken Earth vacate the place and leave the whole planet to me. I do not know what I say, but I speak, addressing those that are left, waiting for me.

Magma bubbles. The crust of the Earth rumbles and fractures. People wander hopelessly, stumbling, mumbling; society crumbling. However, the greatest of mankind’s troubles is not rebuilding from the rubble, but shaving away the stubble of their conscience as they try to make sense of this nonsense.

I read on.

Everyone in the world needs someone to lean on. Someone to depend on. Perhaps even someone to dump their wounded friend on, so that they can flee. But that will never be me. I will never leave that fast that I leave behind every important part of my past.

Because I have an escape plan; that car has an infinite number of seats.

And I intend to fill every one of them.