[ WP ] All 10 billion humans in the world wear wristbands that display their rank in terms of access to global resources in real time . Yours just jumped from the middle of the pack to # 19 in a span of 10 minutes .

Fire. On the screens there was only fire. Total abysmal devastation. 
 
 Long ago, when oil supplies started to dwindle, this was just a worst case scenario that the think tanks in Washington warned about. Now, it's the exact situation we're in, everybody - everything, is dying. 
 
 The resource allocator ticked up, first at an insane rate, too quickly to even try to make out what was happening on the little screen, now it was stuck at 19. 19 people who were powerful enough to be spared from the hellfire. At least for the few months that their shelters could sustain them for. One of those people where in this room with me, we were 3 in total. Me, Braun and Col. Adams. 
 
 We were all silent. Sitting there, letting the flickering of the fires on the screen dance across the room. Suddenly Col. Adams stood up. `` We really did it, did n't we?'' he said, almost as if he was talking to the wall. `` It really happened..'' said Braun. More silence ensued. I turned my head back to the screens, as if I expected something would have changed. Still, there was only fire. 
 
 A sound that ripped through my ear like a truck with razor blades erupted in the small room. After a second of regaining my bearings, I looked around the room, nothing. Until I looked down behind me, Col. Adams lied there with his gun in his right hand - and a hole clean through his template. Staggering out of my seat and fighting the impulse to throw up I sat down against the wall of monitors, covering my head with my hands. 
 
 A high pitched beep came from my resource allocator. 18.
