text: There wasn’t much left of the world. The war didn’t just take away singular things, rather uprooted entire concepts, and burned feelings and ideas to ash. Things such as society, comfort, and peace of mind were not only foreign to those who were born after it, but completely incompatible. Ideas that would collapse under even the slightest scrutiny, and that were more unbelievable than even the most outlandish children’s fantasy. Yet in a world where ideas died, where plants were all but eradicated, and the constructions that once stood as monuments to humanity's ability to create fell like dominoes, people still lived. Though these things were more real, and concrete than the very concrete beneath his feet, Elliot failed to consider them. The lack of care for the past or future was one of the notable traits of the Final Generation after all. Those who lived in the world before, often still thought about things other than what was in front of them, things that may have stood there thousands of years ago, or may stand there yet millions of years in the future. But the children of the Final Generation never had the luxury of learning this skill. All they knew was how to survive in the moment. Yet even Elliot had dreams. His were far vaguer and less understood than most boys of eight, but he knew he wanted something. Elliot, as impossible as it was, wanted to see a flower. He had heard that before his world, there were all kinds of flowers. Roses as red as blood, and daisies as orange as the sun. Flowers of dazzling colors he had never seen and fields of yellow called sunflower fields. Elliot’s older sister ran over, a piece of string in her hand, and a nervous smile on her face. She was born before the Final Generation and had a taste of things such as wonder, and amazement, and dearly wished for her brother to have a chance to taste such things as well. But whenever she tried to do something for her brother, something that would show him a world before his own, it always went wrong. Things were never meant to go right in his world, he couldn’t see why she couldn’t understand that. Though he did understand this, and so felt no disappointment when whatever plan she had, went wrong, seeing the pain on her face broke his heart every time She glanced up at the star-speckled sky. And nodded to herself. “Brookline,” he said softly. “Mhm?” she said, seemingly more focused on double-checking the plan in her head. “If this doesn’t work, it doesn’t mean you’re a bad sister. It’s not your fault” he said, taking her larger hand in his. She turned to him, her eyes, which had a color crossed between hazel and gold, fixed on his. For a moment she looked confused, perhaps still reviewing part of her scheme before she smiled softly at him. “That’s sweet runt,” she said, ruffling his hair. “But us grown-ups gotta make sure you little guys get a childhood as good as our own”. Elliot found it unfair that a sixteen-year-old was forced to be an adult, but completely missed the irony in the fact that he never saw himself as a kid. “Okay, just...just don’t get sad again” he said, "Don't worry, runt" she said, trying to hide the nervousness in her voice and on her face, a skill anyone born before the Final Generation clearly could not learn. “I won’t have a reason to be sad this time,” she said, pulling a lighter from her pocket. She flicked it a few times, and when she didn’t immediately get a flame, feared she never would, but eventually one came. “Okay,” she mouthed to herself. “Okay,” she repeated, this time talking to him. “It’s going to be loud okay? So, don’t get scared runt”. He nodded softly at her. “Okay,” she said one last time, before holding the flame to the string in her hand. She dropped the string as a flame started to follow it, across the barren ground. Brookline bounced up and down excitedly, but as the flame reached the tube at the end of the wick, it went out. For a moment all was silent, and Brookline’s shoulders slumped. Elliot’s heart sank as she opened her mouth, most likely to utter an apology, but before she could speak, a loud whistling sound emanated from the tube as it launched a brilliant ball of fire into the night sky. The ball exploded into a pattern of yellow light with a satisfying crackle before fizzling away. The tube-launched three more fireballs into the sky, each erupting into another beautiful yellow pattern. Elliot gasped in awe, and though he couldn’t see it, Brookline cried while grinning.