Personal Narrative Essay

EVEN IN THIS desolate, mangled world, where the foundations of all things have collapsed, there were some things that endured. There still existed things of everlasting value. Whiskey, for example.

Jack had noticed the shine of bottle glass in the truck bed on a previous walk and decided to stop here, should he need the money. This is what those items of eternal value were for - to help one through rough times.

There were no longer automobiles that ran on liquid fuel and few people knew that these kinds of truck were called pickups. Jack knew. He generally knew quite a lot about the old world because he earned his living as a Walker, which meant that he roamed the Wasteland in search of old-world treasures. If he were to be honest, though,

When the Gendemic began, it destroyed everything - daily life, culture, laws... and Alterra. Civilization survived on a few small, safe islands. Those like New Atrium. Evidently, it was to one of these splinters of the safe world that the driver was trying to escape. He brought with him only what was most important... but never made it to his destination.

Gradually, life of the survivors adjusted, namely when the alpha-citizens of New Atrium restored Alterra. They even allowed the omegas, the residents of the ghetto, to log into this wonderful world. But in the restored Alterra, just like in real life, the alphas had far more opportunities. The driver had seen a version of Alterra, where everyone had equal rights, where all the joys of the virtual world were equally available to everybody.

The Blighted Wasteland were behind him, and the Clusters of the ghetto stretched out before him. Walking through the slums, Jack could barely restrain himself from running home, so he could leave this filth and try to dive into Alterra, not through his own avatar, but through another older character - a sort of granddaddy of the virtual world. And all the while, he had to constantly look this way and that because these areas were rotten to the