The Collapse of the World
Climate change, resource scarcity, and crumbling infrastructure caused global mistrust to escalate. Nationalism and militarism surged once more—especially in states that still viewed themselves as world powers. The law of the strong prevailed, fueled by fear of losing influence.
Russia, Iran, and China formed an "Alliance Without Borders"—officially for disaster relief and the reconstruction of infrastructure destroyed by EMP strikes. Unofficially, it served to secure their strategic interests. The Western world dismissed it as a paper tiger.
Imbalances in raw materials, agricultural land, and above all scarce freshwater led to constant disputes. These conflicts were not only verbal but often military in nature. Border clashes escalated, and humanity began murdering its own kind over water and food.
This was especially true in Asia, where China's control over Tibet's water sources—and thus indirectly over much of South Asia's lifelines—became a matter of survival. The climate crisis intensified droughts. Chinese dams throttled rivers, in some cases causing them to dry up entirely. Rice fields withered, millions starved, and power grids collapsed. East Asia was boiling over.
Author's Note:
As far as I could reconstruct from old newspaper fragments, Tibetan water was not only used for food production in China but also for so-called cash crops—industrial plants such as cotton.
The international community demanded UN peacekeepers to oversee the dams and mediate between interests—but it was too late.
Bloody border conflicts erupted between India, China, and Pakistan over Kashmir and the ever-shrinking river systems.
In a last attempt at hope, the EU and the United States signed a mutual defense pact with India, believing deterrence might calm the situation. But events unfolded differently.
Then as now, humanity kills—fighting over water, food, and power. It is always the same refrain. We want more living space, more resources, more dominance. Whether the great powers of the past or those now fighting beneath Vienna—it makes no difference.
The World Burns Author's Note:
I do not know who fired first. There are rumors of Pakistani missile launches, of American preemptive strikes, of a Chinese false alarm. Perhaps it was an accident. Perhaps madness. We will never know.
Twenty thousand nuclear warheads detonated across the globe. Humanity burned in the fire it had stolen from the gods. It murdered its future and erased its past. Only ash and ruins bear witness to a world that no longer exists.
Numerous nuclear reactors also exploded, unable to be shut down in time. The atmosphere darkened; sunlight was shut out.
A nuclear ice age began—and it seems to have no end. The electromagnetic noise of the world fell silent. Only stillness remained.
Even Vienna was struck: the Danube poisoned, the city destroyed, its population wiped out. The Vienna Metro—once built as salvation—became the prison of the descendants.
A judgment upon humanity.The underground breathed—but did not live.
What madness. And yet humanity was itself to blame—from beginning to end. Why did people never understand that they were all the same? That all they wanted was to live, to unfold freely? And yet they never grasped it. Although… when I think about it, we have learned nothing. We live in dwarf states, restrict freedom of movement with borders and passports, fight over narratives instead of truth. We wage war against one another and fill the emptiness in our hearts with ideologies, each convinced of being right. But was there ever such a thing as a superior truth—one built on mutual respect?
The Last War
After the collapse of surface civilization, survivors from the military and administration formed the Central Station Organization Commission—the ZSOK—a provisional government. A new parliament was to be established once stability returned. New elections and the rebuilding of civilization were planned.
They never happened.
Hunger destroys belief in unity.
Three years after the nuclear exchange, bunker supplies were exhausted. Food production was extremely limited. A fungal blight destroyed most crops. Uprisings and open rebellions followed. The ZSOK plundered the weapon stockpiles of their ancestors and opened fire on the starving population.
For a time, it seemed the United Metro might survive. But the rebels struck back. A civil war erupted, killing over a thousand in direct combat. Hundreds of civilians were massacred, crushed between the fronts.
As if that were not enough, smallpox broke out in the Neue Donau and Floridsdorf stations. It was a limited outbreak—but a deadly one. The disease could have meant the end of the Vienna underground. Medication was scarce, and the situation highly unstable. How this supposedly eradicated disease returned remained unclear.
One thing was certain: the infected stations had to be burned.
The final act of the ZSOK was to destroy these plague centers in roaring flames—for the protection of all.
From the chaos and ashes of war, new ideologies arose.The ZSOK collapsed—and with it the fragile order.
The Avant-Garde Party of the Techno-Socialists seized several stations, established workers' councils, and occupied the central hub at Stephansplatz, renaming it Nexus. This new faction promised to banish scarcity forever through technocratic planning: cooperative planned economy instead of free-market excess, collective welfare over self-interest, and technology as liberation from the sins of the past.
They founded the state known as the Techno-Socialist Union of Humanity (TSUH).
But they were not alone in their claim to save the Metro.
The Eastern Corporate State was a social-Darwinist eugenics regime that divided humanity into genetic castes—seeking to breed people immune to radiation, disease, and decay. Like an ant colony, each caste was engineered for its task, driven by a fanatical pursuit of perfection.
There were also the United Stations, a federal state clinging to the past, seeking to restore the Austrian Republic. This faction was the direct successor to what remained of the ZSOK. A representative democracy aiming to crush both the eugenicists and the techno-socialists to reclaim the legacy of the Second Republic. Thus, they called themselves the Third Republic.
These rival factions fought over the last remnants of resources and supplies. Weapons, food, and medicine were worth their weight in gold—and became the cause of the next war.
Three years after the nuclear fire, the Great War began.It was meant to be the war to end all wars.
It ended like all others: in blood.
Techno-socialists against eugenicists against republicans.
Within two years, two to four thousand people died. Despite immense material expenditure, no side achieved a decisive victory.
The war ended in stalemate.Thousands dead.Resources destroyed that could have saved lives.One final waste in a dying world.
David knew stories from that time—of soldiers who had endured the front, marked by deep scars they wore with pride. He had been five years old when the bombs fell, and eight when the Great War began. A child understands nothing of war, strategy, or ideology. But one thing he understood: hunger. A hunger that could only be felt in the midst of madness.
Suddenly, loudspeakers crackled to life, shattering the bubble David was lost in:
"Honored citizens, the Funke interrupts the night's rest for an important announcement.All members of the National People's Militia must report to their barracks by 22:00 at the latest."
Much of the voice was drowned out by static.
"The Consul, together with the Ministry of Defense, has ordered a partial mobilization.This step is absolutely necessary to defend our children and the Revolution.Conscription has been decided by lottery.We wish the conscripts good luck—and all comrades a good night."
All militia soldiers knew their orders. They had to comply.
David and Gabriel made their way to the garrison.