One Upside of the Total Collapse of Civilization Is We Don’t Have to Be Woke Anymore

As I gaze upon the ruins of what was once my home city, where I grew up and built a life full of love, laughter, and fond memories, I could feel sad. But I cannot help but smile, for we have finally conquered wokeness.

There was a time when every “blue” joke would yield a reprimand from HR. Now, no one would dare to stop me from screening Blazing Saddles in my office’s conference room, if there were any electricity to run the television. In fact, there are no HR rules at all, I have no job, the company no longer exists, and the entire building is occupied by warlords.

These days, no one asks me about pronouns; they’re too busy searching for potable water. The victor of the Fourth Great Water War has yet to be determined, but what is certain is that we have decisively defeated the DEI scolds who were incessantly telling us the “right” words to say.

I used to be so afraid to speak my mind, but now that’s over. I’m just afraid of the warlords, and I’m not afraid to say so loud and proud. But don’t tell the warlords I said that; they’re unpredictable, their chants are deafening, and their weapons hurt. If I hear them coming, I hide.

I was sick and tired of my kids being indoctrinated into radical identitarian ideologies at school. Now, my boys don’t go to school. There’s no one to make them ashamed of their masculinity, and they have a perfect outlet for their male energy: their roles in a roving band of pirates stripping copper from abandoned shopping malls (teamwork!).

When things were woke, every day was a different made-up “celebration.” Every gender and ethnicity got a “month,” and we had to hear about it. Now, who even knows what day it is? There are no calendars—and even if there were, you’d better not get caught with one (because the warlords hate them). They will eat your calendar, and not only because paper is one of the best remaining sources of calories. They hate calendars more than books for some reason. But the thing they hate most is watches, which they will also eat.

I admit that I would change a few things about our world today. I miss being able to buy things at the store, watching my favorite shows on TV, and when it used to rain. But even more nourishing than food and water, even more comforting than not constantly running from armed gangs who steal anything I get my hands on—I mean anything, like if I find a tiny acorn that I think I might suck on for sustenance, and I run for so long with so little food and water that I don’t know how my body keeps going as I push through new levels of exhaustion—is the knowledge that I won’t have to listen to online extremists lecture me about how people like me are “the problem” with society. There is no online anymore, and no society either.

Listen. It feels good to say this in plain language when no one is going to woke-police me out of it: I’m not “a person experiencing thirst,” okay? I’m thirsty. I am so very, very thirsty.