Every year- well, every year since Reca was born, at least- the winter had come, blanketing the rusty, beat-up metal shacks and barely-formed dirt roads in a coat of off-white powder. At night, you could even see the white stuff glowing a little. Night hadn't come yet, and it was the first snow of the year... but this time, things were a little different.
The pungent smell, which had previously been perceptible only after several layers of snow had piled up, was now growing stronger by the minute. The stuff had only just begun to fall. Moreover, wherever it landed on the roofs of the shacks, the metal begun to hiss. It was always acid snow, but it had never been this acidic before.
Reca- purple skin, yellow hair, and a garish space-age outfit- slept in a cot under the dissolving roof of one of the steel shanties. A snowflake landed on her face through one of the corrosion holes. Her eyes opened slowly. When she got out of bed, excited to see the snow, she saw- but did not take notice of- an indentation in the shape of her body, worn into the mattress by pressure as she slept.
Reca's caretakers had told her that the snow would slowly become more acidic over time. This was a big jump in acidity, though. Unusual. Reca considered it for a second, but was unable to come up with an explanation with what little she remembered of environmental science.
The street was deserted, and the shacks nearby were dark. Perhaps the others had gone out to scavenge. Nightfall, assuming the sun hadn't changed its trajectory while Reca slept, would be in about two hours. If everyone was gone...
There was one person who wouldn't be gone.
Reca turned on her heel and dashed past the old signpost- she remembered that one particular arrow had read 'junkyard', but it was now rusted beyond recognizability. With a hop, she was over Andistronica's only fence, which had ostensibly been struck by lightning. It was then that a small hill came into view. From afar, it looked ordinary, but as Reca approached, it (as always) became clear that it actually consisted of discarded mechanical parts. Parked in front of it, next to the rusty 'Andistronican Junkyard' sign, was...
"Deca!" Reca exclaimed, running up to the dusty van on the edge of the junkyard. With one fell swoop, she removed a layer of the grime and revealed the mass of day-glo abstract swirls painted amateurishly onto Deca's external shell. Deca would have normally greeted Reca with a flash or two of the headlights, but her solar panels had dusted over and prevented her from activating. It was a problem that Reca could fix in a snap. She mounted the shell via the familiar side ladder and systematically wiped off each of the four panels, then scooted up to the time-worn spot where she used to sit when Deca was in motion.
The snow continued to fall. The metal continued to hiss.
Deca's lights turned on as she tenderly grasped the tendrils of early-morning light.
"Good morning," said Reca, and Deca flashed appreciatively. The hissing noise grew louder and Reca, comforted by Deca's presence, finally turned to see which piece of metal was being corroded.
Her eyes widened and her breath shorted.
Deca's external shell was beginning to dissolve. Only in a few spots so far- the acid snow had just moved in from the direction of Andistronica- but nonetheless, Reca could see Deca wince- her headlights were flickering. This was urgent. Deca had survived years of acid storms- why was she getting injured now? Where was everyone?
"Run!" yelled Reca, hopping off of the roof and pulling her plasticky hood over her head. "I'll catch up with you! Just go east! Away from the storm!"
Deca's lights flashed green and her engine sputtered hesitantly to life. Reca ran, armed with a new sense of purpose, back to Andistronica. The smell hung oppressively in the air. The shacks were still dark. Well, the open shacks were dark- one of them, the settlement leader's shack, was locked, and Reca couldn't make heads or tails of what it was like inside.
Reca thought over the details she had come across during the day so far. The super-acidic snow. The desolate village. The damaged fence, and the dust that had covered Deca. Something was wrong, and her adventurous spirit- previously tempered by the words of the others in the village- was now leading her past the junkyard, and past the Andistronican Quarter, into Wastelandica, the wide-open space that once bore a million futures. She had never been outside of the Quarter. Perhaps, she thought, there would be answers out there. Answers to her personal mysteries and to the greatest mystery of all, at least by the standards of the adults who took care of her:
What caused the apocalypse?
"I'm going out into Wastelandica," called Reca through the locked door of the leader's shed. She received no response but the sizzling of the snow on her hood.
She turned and ran.