End of the World Broadcast

The tools most easily obtained in this world are none other than weapons like knives and guns.
In a city that had stopped functioning, with depleting resources.
People gathered in excessive numbers, drawing weapons to survive a little longer, to protect what was theirs.
At least outside, the endlessly falling snow covered the devastation, making the world appear peaceful.
But indoors, where snow couldn’t hide anything, places still retained their old appearance even after all this time.
The cold temperature prevented significant decomposition.

“Wait a moment, I need to clean up to sleep comfortably. It’s not that I can’t sleep like this, but don’t you think it would give me bad dreams?”

Whether it was someone who brought the lead grim reaper with their own finger.
Or someone who couldn’t stand hunger and died of infection after eating their own flesh.
Or a family cruelly murdered by intruders, with blood splattered all over the room.
It wasn’t just a peaceful life—even wishing for a peaceful death was a luxury in this world.

So someone who ended their life by hanging themselves like this actually had a relatively peaceful death.
I don’t know who made them, but pamphlets describing methods to end one’s life peacefully were scattered throughout the city, which says it all.

“People who wanted to live but died at the hands of strangers they never knew, and people who, tired of everything, chose to end their lives themselves.”

Which ones lived happier lives? Which ones felt less unhappy as they died?
Long ago, they used to say there was no death more pathetic, miserable, and tragic than suicide.
The world should have developed to eliminate such tragic deaths.
Yet this is how the world ends.
It’s truly ironic.

I gave a bitter smile as I took down the hanging corpse and covered it with a blanket.
After lowering the body from the ceiling and wrapping it in a blanket, I found a broom and dustpan to clean up the dust and dead insects on the floor, along with various things that had come out of the weakened body.
It’s not enough, actually, but I’m not going to live here. It’s sufficient since I’ll just sleep in the corner for one night.

“Phew. Finally, I can rest a bit. I’d like to mop the floor too, but… I don’t have the energy for that.”

Just today, I’ve been walking for more than half a day. Through snow where my feet sink in, forcing me to lift my knees high with each step.
After wandering alone for so long, I’ve built some muscle and stamina, but there are still limits.
Groaning, I take off my large bag and thick coat, placing them on the floor.
Immediately, the cold that had been blocked by my coat started to creep in.

“Ugh… it’s still cold inside, though not as bad as outside. Wait a moment.”

Haah. Exhaling visible breath, I open the zipper of the bag I put down.
Various medical tools, equipment, canned food—things I’ve collected wandering around the city.
Among them, I take out a heater that occupies a significant space in the bag, place it on the floor, and press the protruding button.
Then, without connecting to electricity or having any holes for oil, the heater starts emitting a soft light.

“Ahh, this moment is truly the happiest. You watching this video won’t feel it, but this room is already warm enough that I could be naked. Not that I’m planning to strip down completely, of course.”

The sensation of my body, frozen stiff from walking in the cold streets for hours, gradually thawing spreads throughout my body.
It’s a bit painful and tingling, but it feels good to feel alive.
There was a good reason why the heater occupied such a large space in my bag, which could only hold limited resources.

“It would be nice if I could use this indefinitely, but unfortunately, the light seems a bit dimmer than before.”

But just as nothing can last forever, this heater, too, was slowly heading toward its end.
There’s no direct indicator of how much longer it can be used, but I could feel the light emitted from the heater gradually decreasing with each use.

“With the resources and knowledge I have, there’s no way to fix or recharge this. It’s already disappointing to think that I won’t be able to use it anymore.”

As you can tell from how I fixed the drone just by looking at the blueprint, I’ve become quite skilled with my hands.
But many of the machines of this era are so delicate and complex that they can’t even be dissected with mere skill. To the point where I don’t even know what they use as fuel or how they burn.

“Well, what can I do? Let’s think about it when the time comes. Being immersed in depressing thoughts about something that might not happen for a while only makes even happy moments unhappy. Let’s focus on the present.”

My stomach had been growling for quite some time.
True to my words about focusing on the present, I rummaged through my bag and took out a tightly sealed can.
I placed the can on a tripod I brought from the lab, lit an alcohol lamp with a gas torch, and put it under the can.
I could eat it cold, but it’s better to have some taste on the tongue by melting it a bit.
I don’t know much about nutrition, but surely eating warm food is better for the body.
…Actually, it’s nonsensical to worry about whether food of unknown age is good for the body or not.

“While the food cooks, let me record what happened today. Remember I said I’d show you the map?”

While the contents of the can cook, I take out a roll of paper and a stubby pencil to pass the time.
Then I spread out the map I had drawn on the floor so the drone could see it.

“Can you see? This is all the path I’ve walked so far. Most of the roads I’ve walked, from when I first opened my eyes in this world to this moment when I’m showing you the map, are drawn here.”

Of course, I can’t draw on thin paper in the middle of heavy snowfall, and there’s no way for me alone to look around all the buildings in the city, so it’s quite small to be called a map.
Nevertheless, it’s my precious map that records the paths I’ve walked and the unusual or important buildings I’ve seen along the way.

“And now I’m going to draw the path I walked today. I’ll also note that I fixed the drone after a week. Saying it like this makes it sound more like a diary than a map. But whether it’s a diary or a map, the significance is in recording my footsteps, so let’s not worry about such trivial matters.”

Anyway, while walking on snow-covered roads, all I can do is talk to myself or look at various buildings lined up along the roads.
Also, the size of each building is no joke, so despite walking for several hours, I haven’t passed that many buildings.

So, as I trace my memories, I draw buildings that haven’t collapsed much and don’t have any special features as squares.
For buildings that are completely damaged with only the frame remaining, or those with incomplete construction that look like skeletons in human terms, I mark them with asterisks along with brief descriptions.
Then I circle the buildings where today’s mapped journey begins and ends—this current building—noting how far I walked and what happened.
Like “Fixed the drone and successfully connected to a network!” or “Got to sleep in a relatively nice house.”

“Actually, since I’ve confirmed there’s no one around, I probably won’t go back even if I draw a map… but sometimes when I’m tired, looking at the map and seeing how far I’ve come gives me strength.”

I originally started drawing maps in case I needed to return somewhere without getting lost, but that reason has long faded.
After all, I’m busy moving around looking for survivors—why would I return to places where there are only corpses?
So the reason I draw maps now is, as I said earlier, to record today’s footsteps.
And to record that I survived another day safely.
When I occasionally feel tired and want to stop, I look at the map and gain strength by thinking, “I’ve endured for so long, I can endure more.”

“In this world, this is the only thing I can do proactively and with focus. So I’m doing my best.”

While chatting and drawing the map, a rather plausible smell began to waft from the slightly opened can.
I smile as I put the completed map into my bag and open the lid of the can.

“Hmm… the smell was promising, but somehow it doesn’t taste that good. Salty… and salty again. If they were going to seal it perfectly anyway, they could have put in slightly tastier food. It’s a bit disappointing.”

Even the grilled pineapple that I always thought was strange when eating it is now something I miss. If I had known I’d end up in a world like this, I wouldn’t have been picky about food…

“If anyone watching this video plans to make canned food or similar preserved food, please make it with ingredients that can be eaten deliciously and pleasantly…”

I drew the map and emptied the salty can to the bottom. I also filled my empty water bottle with melted snow collected from outside.
After that, while continuing to talk to the drone, the outside had completely darkened, and my physical energy was depleted.

“……”

At the same time, the excitement I naturally felt while fixing the drone subsided.
Sharing a sleeping place with someone who ended their life after receiving no help and eating nothing.
Perhaps because of the situation, or as a reaction to being excited for so long.
When my eyes met my own unfamiliar, refracted image reflected in the black lens, I suddenly felt drained.

“Haha….”

What am I doing?
“If” and “someday” and whatnot—I know better than anyone that such hopeful futures cannot come to this world.

I know that no matter how far I go, no matter how much time passes, the possibility that there will be no one to watch this video is several times greater than the possibility that there are survivors, yet I keep talking like this.

It says it’s connected to a network, but… realistically thinking, it’s more likely connected to a server or machine barely maintained by backup power or something similar.
Above all, I’ve been sending videos and talking all day, but there’s no response.
Even if I can’t receive voices or videos, I should be able to get some kind of reaction to show someone is watching my video.
What the hell am I doing? Just wasting precious energy.

“…I’ll stop here for today. Tomorrow… no, I don’t know. Anyway, I hope to see you again. Good night.”

Like a parasite that has entered the body. Like mold that has seeped into the wall.
The sunken emotions began to eat away at my mind rapidly.
Since nothing good would come from staying in this state, I turned off the drone and immediately curled up, using my outer clothes as a blanket, and closed my eyes.

And the next day.
There was no special change.
The world was still snow-white, and I was still alone.
The only thing that changed was the temperature of the room, which had grown cold after the heater turned off.
My mood hadn’t improved at all.

“Fixed it for nothing.”

I fixed it thinking it might ease my loneliness a little while wandering in a world where no one exists, but instead, it only made me acutely aware of how lonely I am.

Despair and hope are always in contact like two sides of a coin.
The problem is that when you toss the coin, it always falls to show despair, like bread with butter that always lands butter-side down.
Damn it, I’ll leave it here.

As I was cursing inside and about to disassemble it, thinking I might be able to use the motor or battery later, at that moment.

-There is a message transmitted from ~~~~~~. Would you like to check it?
“…What?”

Words I hadn’t even dared to expect flowed out.
The first part was unclear due to static, just like when it first said it connected to a network, but what mattered was the content of the latter part.
There’s a transmitted message? Someone saw my video?
With trembling hands, I pressed the confirmation button on the controller.
I hoped for a moment that even this wasn’t a trap to plunge me into despair.

A blue, translucent window appeared above the controller.

[What is this video? Does anyone know what this is about?]
[Movie filming?]
[Wow, it seems like people from all over the world are gathered here ww]
[What is this and why is it showing up in my algorithm?]
“Oh my god.”
What am I looking at right now?

Words and languages long forgotten in memory and history.
They were speaking to me inside this translucent window.

On an ordinary day in the 21st century.
At the top of what is arguably the world’s most influential video site.
A strange livestream appeared, with no channel name, title, or even broadcast date and time.