Part XI: Predictions
He looks glum. I want to comfort him, but I don’t know his name.
‘So I’m Lucy. And you are?’
It takes him a moment. If he’s crying, he’s hiding it.
‘Tim and Tom. Seriously?’
I laugh. He sighs.
‘I know. When we were little, before people had to worry about survival, everyone made fun of us. I suppose the end of civilisation had its upside.’
‘Do you remember?’
‘The end of civilisation? Yep. We thought it was exciting. We’d find out if our models were right.’
‘Sorta. But nobody predicted the storms.’
‘Bit of an oversight, that.’