"Morning sunshine, did you sleep well?" a voice suddenly appeared to my right, clothed in white garments, seemingly quite chipper.
"Who are you? Where am I? What is going on?" I asked, clearly quite panicked and out of breath.
I looked around the room, feeling weak and helpless. Everything seemed so alien, as if I was on the outside looking in. The room was clearly underground, dark with no windows, the air stale and smelling of medicine, rotting flesh, and death. Glancing down at my arms, I realized how skinny I was. I was never one to brag, but my body used to be muscular, strong, and my skin was filled with the vigor of a man who spent countless summers in the sun. Now, I was pale, seeing the bones sticking out beneath the skin on my arms as if it were translucent.
"Don't worry, pudding, you are safe. My name is Dr. Grove, but you can call me Phillip. The world has changed, and we, well, we were forced to change with it," Phillip continued. "You have been in a coma for the last 10 years. What is the last thing you remember?" he asked, his voice more curious than anything.
"Not much. It's all kind of blurry. Flashing lights, a big boom, and then, well, nothing," I spoke in a low voice, as if afraid it might run out at any moment.
"Well, no matter. Let me fill you in on the key details," Phillip spoke casually before continuing in a serious voice void of all emotions except maybe a sliver of anger. "The world as you knew it is gone. After your accident, your bodyguards picked you up and returned back. The world went into chaos as natural disasters kept on happening, ever increasing ever so slightly in magnitude for each passing day. Your father reacted quickly. After making sure you were stable enough to move, he went into the nearest shelter, bringing a team of doctors, your family, and everyone he deemed worthy of saving. As days turned into months, more and more people were let into the shelter. After all, it was built to sustain 3.5 million people," Phillip took a deep breath and continued on. "As misfortune would have it, not enough people survived... In—"
"How is that possible?" I exclaimed. "Oslo had a population of 12 million people. The shelter was constructed as a last-ditch effort to save at least a quarter of the population in case of an emergency."
What the hell is going on around here? This has to be some crazy twisted prank. I refuse to accept that the world as I know it is simply... gone.
"Let me speak, boy. As I was about to say, out of the 12 million people, only 1.3 million remain in this shelter. Underground, void of all sunlight..." Phillip continued on, but his voice seemed to grow more and more distant.