It's some time after the Before. Not sure how long—nobody knows. After the collapse of the world they knew, they had to survive, they lost track, and then they just stopped caring.
There's this malaise of the mind, the Big Sick, that's touched so many. They keep a bullet chambered for when they're sick enough. Sick of everything, enough to call it quits.
They had kids (I'm one of them, so's Mal) to stir the dregs of maybe for a little bit but it didn't help. Not really. The world's in ruins by their hands and they just stopped caring.
There's something in me that will not give up. The whole world is screaming there is nothing, but I'm searching for meaning, despite.