After the nuclear bomb dropped, the dead man stood up. But they don't eat people—they pile them up. Like farmers piling wheat, the corpses are stacked neatly, waiting for fermentation and spring.
The first infected person said: I am not killing, I am screening. Only those who can adapt to radiation, cold, and green blood are qualified to become the ancestors of new humans.
The last old human said: If becoming a new human means erasing love and memory, then I would rather die in the old world.
Among them stood an eight-year-old girl. Her blood was green, but she was still alive. She could hear the singing of the dead and see the despair of the living. She held a photo in her hand, with the words on the back: "We loved. We existed."
That is the only last word left by the old mankind to the new world.
This is a journey of survival in a doomsday wasteland, and it is also the ultimate torture on "what is a human being". When the price of living is to forget who you are, when the end point of evolution is to become something else - will you choose to be the seed of the new world, or the echo of the old world?
