[ WP ] The apocalypse is neigh , you have been tasked with compiling a book with instructions on how rebuild civilization incase anyone survives . But you must decide what to put in it .

`` For Christ's sake, Matthews, get in here!'' My boss bellows from his office, sticking his head out long enough to give me an unbecoming glare before retreating again. 
 
 I scurry over, my phone to my ear, explaining my situation to him over the hollow ringing and repeated introductions to `` leave a message for Clara after the beep!'' 
 
 `` Sir, I ca n't, I have to call my daughter, I need to speak with her!'' 
 
 My desperate please are punctuated by a loud crash that shakes the whole earth. The end is near. 
 
 `` Matthews, I do n't care if you're calling your grandmother, you're in my charge and you do as I say!'' Is all I get as a reply. I shoot another text to Clara and focus on the task at hand. 
 
 Mr. Gordon is haphazardly shoving fistfuls of papers into briefcases and cursing the `` scumbag foreigners'' under his breath. Far from laughing at the irony and inaccuracy of his frustration, I begin to develop a headache at his stupidity. 
 
 `` Matthews! I fired Tyler, you'll need to finish his assignment.'' 
 
 I stand in shock for a moment before replying. 
 
 `` Sir, it's the apocalypse. Whatever his assignment was, I'm sure it can wait!'' 
 
 `` Not this time, Matthews. Here are the specs.'' 
 
 Mr. Gordon trots away down the hallway, surprisingly quickly for someone so large. I look down and read the sheet of paper he has just thrust into my hands. 
 
 `` The Committee for the Revival of Humanity presents: how and why to rebuild civilization.'' 
 
 Below were long paragraphs explaining the importance of writing clearly, of describing fully, and so on and so on. 
 
 I had known Tyler had been working on preparations for the apocalypse, but I did n't know it was this. 
 
 As much as I wanted to rush home to my daughter, I knew I could n't ( not least because her mother would n't let her near me ). I seated myself at Mr. Gordon's desk and followed the instructions to log into TerraBite, the program that would allow me to submit the assignment so that it could be accessed in hundreds of bunkers worldwide, should anyone survive in one and need it. 
 
 The blank screen in front of me was daunting, and I let my mind wander, though I had been trained for this moment for nearly a decade. 
 
 First I thought of Mr. Gordon. What an idiot! Not only did he have no respect for individuals, but he had fired Tyler, who was one of three people on the planet suited to write this report. Also, there's no need to screech at and order around the few people left with you at the end of the world. I was sorry that he was likely the last person I'd ever speak to. 
 
 But he did n't have to be. 
 
 I pulled out my phone again and called Clara. Clara Lynne, my sweet teenage daughter. What a gem in a world of stones! 
 
 My face lit up when she answered, though she was whispering and her voice sounded strained. 
 
 `` Daddy! Listen, I do n't have much time-'' 
 
 I did n't cut her off, because I wanted so badly to hear her voice, but her mother did. I heard the banshee shrieking through the phone. 
 
 `` You idiot girl, is that your father? Useless lump does n't need to hear from you, now come on, Pete needs a drink and my nails are wet!'' 
 
 ( It was typical of her to ignore reality in exchange for a more pleasant situation ). 
 
 I heard Clara pleading, and then her voice got louder again as she turned back to her phone, her mother still yelling in the background. 
 
 `` Daddy, I have to go, I lo-'' 
 
 *click* 
 
 I heard the dial tone. 
 
 I knew that calling her again was useless, but I sent her a text to tell her I love her and stared again at the screen in front of me. 
 
 I knew exactly what I should be doing- copying and pasting endless paragraphs about safe sex and healthy pregnancies and how to avoid diseases and everything we know about stable infrastructures. I should be writing in good governmental methods and encouraging the readers to send out radio signals to ensure that they gather everyone safely into one area. 
 
 Instead, I think of Mr. Gordon, whose lack of compassion and irreverence for the human spirit has made my life hell for far too long. 
 
 I think of my ex-wife, the witch who would keep me from my daughter in the world's final hours. 
 
 I think of Clara Lynne, a goddess on this earth, trapped for far too many years in the house of her deadbeat, abusive stepfather and ordered around by her mother. 
 
 And I could n't do it. 
 
 I could n't encourage people to rebuild a society that would end up tearing itself apart. I could n't support the reestablishment of something that crushed so many beautiful spirits. 
 
 Finally, I touched the keys in front of me. 
 
 `` How to rebuild civilization: do n't.'' 
 
 *send* 
 
 I leaned back in my chair, took a deep breath, looked at the picture of Clara that graced my phone's lock screen, and waited for the end. 

