Years in the future, everything is made of plastic.
Somewhere in the midst of a desolate wasteland is a happy, hidden bubble where the air is only as clean as everyone would like to believe. The invisible field hides such a wasteland, decimated by the choices of humans, where horrifying creatures of radioactive adaption and hundreds of years of evolution lie dormant, waiting for a clean source of energy to leave the guarded Sanctuary. These creatures have limbs in strange places—eyes on the backs of their heads, skin like leather and bones like iron. The remaining humans live peacefully, unknowing of the creatures on the other side.
The Sanctuary is the invention of greater scientists hundreds of years before, the temporary saviors of a world already lost. Science has been long forgotten, and humanity lives to reproduce and repair the plastic wall that protects them.
Even the greenery that glistens in artificial sunlight and the dew that shines like morning gold are only an illusion. If you were to prick your finger on the yellow thorn of a cactus, it would bend against your skin and bounce back to its station as if nothing ever happened.
At the edge of the city is a building of red brick and stone with great arched windows that leads to a
dark and dusty corridor inside. The last of its kind, it stands alone among plastic apartments and concrete towers. A copper statue has toppled on its side, falling into a corridor of gravel where true life once reigned. A metal plaque can be seen on a concrete belt before the façade, a gift from the past world, and the words are as mysterious and melancholy as the world it is nailed to.