[ WP ] The year is 151441 . Humanity is on it ’ s last string of life . Food is scarce . The last bottle of maple syrup has expired . Hope is dying fast .

The phone blinked red feebly for the last time, as the old man gave up on pressing it against the broken charging pad with all the little energy he had left. It was gone for good. He could feel the hourly pinch in his heart twinge lightly, as he gasped and took a deep breath. `` हो गया? ``, he heard his companion mutter through his raggedly shaven French beard. *Did it run out? * 
 
 Laying back on the dusty wall, the old man replied feebly, `` मेपल सिरुप के आखरी डब्बे के जैसे,'' he laughed, coughing into the soiled towel. ﻿*Just like that last maple syrup bottle. * ﻿The companion smiled, paying no heed to the bitter part of the quip. The old man looked up at the shattered roof, peering into the large hole, looking at the dusty skies, where stars once immaculately twinkled. 
 
 `` वैसे भी सिग्नल नहीं आ रहा था,'' he rasped, not averting his eyes for a moment to look at his companion's defeated smile. ﻿*Did n't get signal anyway. * ﻿
