[ WP ] The supposed last city on earth makes contact with another city believing itself to be the last one .

`` Do you think there's anyone else out there?'' 
 
 Marvin Erickson redirected his blue eyes from the southern horizon to regard his grandson. He set his wrinkled, calloused hand atop the boy's head, ruffled his blonde hair and smiled. The ten year old scrunched his face in youthful disapproval, but did n't verbally protest or try to squirm away. 
 
 `` I hope so, Stanley,'' the old man said as he once again turned his gaze far off to the south. `` It was a very big world. It would be a shame if we were all that's left.'' 
 
 `` So you think there are others like us?'' his grandson asked, looking up hopefully at Marvin with the same light blue eyes. 
 
 Marvin did n't respond for a long moment, staring off into the distance at a dead world. One of the few left old enough to remember what it had been like, he found himself reminiscing and longing for the old world more as he aged. Finally, after it seemed like he might have drifted off to another thought altogether, he shook his head. `` No, not like us. Anyone else might have had it much worse. They were probably exposed directly. There were only a few of us close enough to the mine to get below when the radiation came. If anyone else survived...'' 
 
 He trailed off but Stanley filled in the gap. He turned his golden head to the west and cast a suspicious gaze at the sunset. `` They would be hurt by it,'' the boy finished. `` Did the sun really try to kill us?'' 
 
 The old man nodded his craggy head, shoulder length white hair swirling about the collar of his grease-stained shirt. `` It did,'' he murmured as his hand fell away from his grandson. `` One day it just flared up and destroyed it all. The people, most of the plants and animals, most of the technology- All gone in a matter of hours.'' 
 
 `` But if we were safe in the mine, could n't there be other people from other mines?'' 
 
 `` There could,'' Marvin admitted. `` But not around here. We checked them all long ago. But it was n't just being underground that saved us.'' 
 
 `` You mean the iron?'' 
 
 `` Mmm hmm,'' he nodded down at the boy. `` We were surrounded by it. That's why the radiation did n't get us. It was our shield. What's more, the ore here is an oxide. It just turns to rust. The gold mines, the silver mines- Most of those were probably different. Messier. Finding good water would have been harder. Food, too.'' 
 
 `` Then I do n't understand, grandpa,'' Stanley protested. `` If you do n't think there's anyone else like us, why do you have to go? Why does it have to be you?'' 
 
 Marvin smiled fondly down at the boy again, then turned to go. `` Because someone still has to look. Because I'm the only one left who knows where everything used to be. Come on, Stan. Your mother will have dinner ready.'' 
 _________________________________________________________________ 
 
 Stan Erickson finished fussing with the ways of the old Bridgeport he'd somehow managed to keep running all these years. He gave the handcrank a spin and watched as the worktable slid smoothly to the right. Grunting with satisfaction, he slowed the travel and turned away, grabbing a convenient shop rag to wipe his hands as he passed. 
 
 He headed to the workbench over which his nephew, former apprentice and soon to be replacement Mike was hunched. Unfolded across a large portion of the workspace was an old map, heavily markered with the notes of his grandfather- A parting gift, one he was now passing on to the next generation. 
 
 `` I still do n't understand, Stan,'' the younger man said with a furrowed brow. `` Why do you have to go so far west before you can head south? There's nothing out there. We've sent teams to Fargo before and beyond that, well, it does n't sound like there was much out there in the first place.'' 
 
 Erickson nodded his head a few times as he finished up wiping the grease from his hands. Once they were clean, he pressed his index finger to a red X to the south. `` That's a nuclear reactor. When there was nobody to work them, they all eventually melted down. Look, there are more here and here. The further east you go, the more likely you are to run into one. I do n't want to get too close so I'm heading West.'' 
 
 `` Along the path here? The one in pencil?'' 
 
 `` That's the one,'' Stan nodded, turning away to begin bundling away the tools he'd be bringing with him. They were old but better than anything being made these days, liberated from the dusty purgatory of a maintenance shop in an old manufacturing plant further north along the shore. Once he was done he scooped them up under one arm and moved away to the bay doors leading outside. 
 
 Mike followed at the two paused atop the elevated loading dock, looking out over the harbor at the great expanse of Lake Superior. The depth of the lake had kept it from being completely fried like most of the other freshwater bodies in the area and, without commercial fishing, many parts of it once again teemed with life. 
 
 `` Sure you wo n't reconsider?'' the former pupil asked. `` I'm in no hurry to run the place.'' 
 
 `` You'll do fine,'' Stan assured him. `` And I'm sure. Put it off any longer and I'll be too old to make the trip.'' 
 
 Mike nodded in acceptance. He'd learned long ago that there was n't any point in trying to change his uncle's mind once it was made up. Instead he offered a short, heartfelt goodbye. `` Well, it wo n't be the same around here without you. If you get out there and change your mind, you'll always be welcome back here.'' 
 
 The older man hopped down off the dock and raised his arm up at a right angle in farewell. `` So long, Mike,'' he called out without looking back as he ambled towards towards the old pickup truck he'd managed to get into running condition. `` Good luck. Look after the family for me.'' 
 
 Stanley Erickson's tools took the passenger seat with the rest of the supplies he wanted within arm's reach. A few seconds later the truck stubbornly rumbled to life and he began to roll away from his shop. Away from Duluth, the last living city on Earth, to follow the path of his grandfather before him in search of the rest of humanity.
