Alas, Babylon Dreams, Hopes, and Plans

What Lib doesn't know yet, of course, is that the very concept of jobs is about to become obsolete for the foreseeable future. There goes that plan. In fact, that's one of the big tragedies of a situation like this. The hopes, dreams, and desires of millions are snuffed out in an instant, whether they're killed in the initial blasts or not.

Helen probably expected to enjoy a slow, steady life as a military wife, and then a lovely, long retirement with the man she loves. Not a likely outcome in the Nuclear Age. Instead, she'll have to fight tooth and nail just for her children to survive to adulthood.

After the bomb falls, the concept of the future ceases to exist. You could run out of food that day. You could get jumped by a highwayman tomorrow. No use worrying about a tomorrow you probably won't see.

Although Randy was never religious before The Day, he's deeply moved when he sees a flyer in Marines Park announcing an Easter Sunday service. Has our hero suddenly become a diehard believer? Maybe. More likely, however, the service makes him feel connected with the other survivors of Fort Repose, and even hopeful about their mutual future.

It sure gave us the creeps reading it, if that counts for anything. Oddly, neither Peyton nor Ben Franklin—the two characters whose futures are most hindered by the nuclear apocalypse—seem all that bummed. In fact, they take it more in stride than the adults.

Randy and Lib's growing love only makes it harder to accept that this will be their future, fighting tooth and nail to make it through the day. Things could've been so different.

All our heroes' struggles will be for naught if surging atmospheric radiation puts the human race down for the count before it even gets back on its feet. The worst part is that radiation is a silent killer. They might not know they've screwed the pooch until it's too late.

For Lib and Randy, this is especially annoying because they're with each other all the time. The only thing standing in their way is the lack of electricity, potential nuclear fallout, roving bands of violent highwaymen—you know, rom-com stuff. They're able to be together physically, sure, but not as fully as either might prefer.

Eventually, Lib and Randy say phooey to logic and get hitched. Is this a mostly symbolic gesture? Sure. But as far as symbolic gestures go, it sure hits the mark. It gives both of them something to fight for in the future.

The first babies born after the bomb are lifesavers—literally. As long as humans are popping out of other humans faster than they're dying, we just might be okay. Good work, team.