[She doesn't stumble. Stumbling gets you dead if you aren't careful, but her foot comes down heavier than she'd meant it to. Something snaps beneath her shoe. 2013. That's--
-- Shit. No way of knowing whether he's from her world or not. If the Infection is coming. If it's already happening in pockets across the US. She rubs at her arm over the sleeve where the bite suddenly itches beneath it.]
What day?
[Fuck. September, right? That late? She knows it was fall, must have dozed off during a dozen droning lessons, but she's pretty sure it was fall, because most of the casualties happened that first winter. People starved or froze because they had no idea how to survive in a world where everything wasn't automated and processed, and civilization all but fell apart until the zones were established. She should have paid more attention to history.]
no subject
-- Shit. No way of knowing whether he's from her world or not. If the Infection is coming. If it's already happening in pockets across the US. She rubs at her arm over the sleeve where the bite suddenly itches beneath it.]
What day?
[Fuck. September, right? That late? She knows it was fall, must have dozed off during a dozen droning lessons, but she's pretty sure it was fall, because most of the casualties happened that first winter. People starved or froze because they had no idea how to survive in a world where everything wasn't automated and processed, and civilization all but fell apart until the zones were established. She should have paid more attention to history.]