Three days after the apocalyptic snowstorm began, Phoenix was ready for the chaos he knew would ensue. As anticipated, power and water supplies were abruptly cut off, thrusting the neighborhood into an unforeseen survival crisis.
The cessation of electricity and water was not unexpected for Phoenix. He was aware that no one could predict the length or severity of this calamity. The officials' attempts to combat the weather proved futile as the days passed and the reality of the situation sank in. Hydroelectric plants shut down, thermal stations faltered, and as the cities depleted their energy reserves, blackouts became widespread. Only the essential operations powered by nuclear plants continued, solely for official use.
With the sudden loss of essential services, the residents' lives were plunged into darkness. Panic spread through the community, evidenced by the barrage of concerned messages flooding various chat groups. "No electricity at home, what's happening?" "The heating's gone, and we can't even get water from the tap, how are we supposed to survive?" The desperation in the messages was palpable.
Phoenix scrolled through the messages with a heavy heart, knowing full well that the officials were now preoccupied with larger crises, leaving citizens to fend for themselves. He realized the true end of days had commenced, and without the comforts of modern society, humanity faced imminent mass mortality.
Glancing around his own warm, secure home, with a cache of supplies that seemed endless, Phoenix felt a profound sense of relief. He had prepared for the worst and now, in his self-sufficient sanctuary, he was insulated from the turmoil outside.
Amidst the growing unease in the neighborhood group, desperate pleas were directed at Auntie Lin, who had previously assured everyone that things were under control. "Auntie Lin, you said it would be fine," one message read, followed by another, "You told us not to stock up, now what do we do?" The people were seeking guidance, answers, and relief that Auntie Lin could not provide.
As for Auntie Lin, she was facing her own turmoil. Privy to more information through the neighborhood committee, she knew the gravity of the global blizzard—a potential herald of another mass extinction. With the major cities already collapsing, survival was paramount. She had even begun to solicit supplies in the name of the committee, prioritizing her and her grandson's well-being over others.
Huddled in bed with her grandson, both shivering despite the layers of thick quilts, Auntie Lin reassured the frightened child that his parents would return soon, although she knew the bitter truth of their plight. Determined to survive, she steeled her resolve.
In the chat group, Auntie Lin's messages continued to flow, now adopting a more authoritarian tone, declaring the committee's role in managing the crisis and subtly threatening those who might dissent. This shift in stance sparked discontent among the residents, yet fear of repercussions kept open dissent at bay.
Phoenix read Auntie Lin's messages with a mixture of amusement and disdain. He remembered how, in his previous life, she had used similar tactics to deceive many out of their supplies. But he felt no compulsion to expose her; the fates of the others held no interest for him.
As the neighborhood descended into a fearful silence, Phoenix turned his attention back to his game, the external anarchy a distant reality to his well-equipped haven. Power outage? Water shortage? He was prepared with reserves of fuel, batteries, and hundreds of tons of water. For Phoenix, life remained as comfortable as ever, while outside, a world froze in darkness.