Day Eight Hundred Sixty #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

We did not make any progress towards Damascus today. We encamped on the outskirts of a larger town last night – the capital for this district, as we soon discovered. For we decided to begin the day’s journey by strolling through rather than around it.

The telltale posters of Stan hung everywhere with extra added touches of adornment.

We were no sooner in its central square than we were surrounded by a convergence of celebratory citizens that clogged all the exits.

We were a captive audience.

When the officials spoke we learned that they were collected to celebrate the anniversary of the world government coming to their rescue in the drought.

When it broke up, the day was too far gone.

Day Twenty Six #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

We’ve moved indoors for now. Can’t say I like it. Lyle even less so. We appear to be the only occupants since the originals. Though we’re out of the elements, we’re limited to only two exits. And that’s what puts us at unease.

Rufus, or so the pigeon is named, likes the arrangement with no discernible unease on his part. At least I take his increased cooing as a sign of contentment.

Lyle and I take turns foraging in the afternoon, after making headway on the drones. We should have one of them operational by tomorrow.

Rufus stopped cooing on one of my occasions of remaining behind. I immediately went in search of Lyle, found him, and returned to cover.