My Grandmother was a noble laureate, in physics if you must know and employed with some top level research agency for the government. She was the family's little feather in the cap, badge on the lapel, and although she was barely ever present (even at Christmas dinner) her name had opened doors for us all, given us all a sense of aloofness and self-satisfaction that we'd in no way earned ourselves. The war had been going on for years now and Grandmother was involved in finding solutions. She never talked about it but we all knew it was hush-hush, top-secret, some black project weapons development.
It wasn't until later that the government began pointing fingers, at Grandma namely. Her calculations were off, sloppy they said, it was her fault that nearly every major city on the planet had been irradiated.
It had started slow at first but the radiation grew and they projected it wouldn't be long before it reached lethal levels. But it gave us enough time to gather our families and leave our cities to be settled in the country. We left almost everything behind, my books, music, possessions that I thought had defined me. I was to become a farmer, grow crops and live a simple life, and as we poured out of the cities I began to think about all the vegetables I would grow, wheat and barley we'd turn into bread and drink, the animals I would tend.... we can never go back to the cities as they will glow in the night for centuries.
