It had been almost a year since I had found the Fat Man’s house. I wondered if I
was better in any real sense, any more prepared for the world that had been
working out full strength this whole time in spite of us, throwing up new apartment
blocks and front lines while we had been in here readying ourselves without a
deadline, playing catch up with a slowly unfolding apocalypse.

The feeling was getting harder to ignore. I felt like a fraud in the corridors, in front
of all those people at the intoxications, following some idea I had, following me
with implicit faith that I knew what I was talking about...