VII : ThermalIkon

“Most of us go through each day looking for what we saw yesterday. And, not surprisingly, that is what we find.” - J.A.K.

The sun sat low upon the horizon, furious at being displaced by what little natural order remained. Here in the flatlands, voracious plant life wound around whatever infrastructure was left standing from the old world. Mammoth in scale and necessity, they alone likely benefit from the ever-present radiation. Wrought into the water, land, and sky, it had become a new element in the long, smoldering years of the postburn.

As to what remains of animals, we stalk prey and search tech beneath the patchwork canopy. Here, the ferocity of the sun filters down in shards through tree and terrace, colored glass and four walls altogether. Come nightfall, any light is kept low and the moon is revered in all aspects. Therms wind down through the twilight, for those who watch the dark in motion.

This is the flux of the land as it is now known. Tracking days and seasons alike, the new measure of time is temperature. Or so it is known by what remains of humans. This is what determines the hunt and the search. There is no purpose beyond survival now, and the cycles must be known.

A device that measures time in relation to temperature. Another hand-crafted gift for my sweet 'yenalady, as we walk through the wasteland together...