Yellow Snow in Glover Park

It all began with The Vortex. How many were lost in the coming years, no one knew. Old records disappeared; new records were controlled by a select few within the Chairmen of the North and the Spacemen of the South, and people had lost faith in any news from “official” sources.

Let me start at the beginning. Sometime at the beginning of 2026 – years ago – life was normal in Glover Park. Kids went to school, adults took care of business, the buses were always late, and those chocolate coated granola bars at Trader Joe’s were rarely in stock. Then came the news reports beginning well ahead of time. An epic storm bringing snow, ice and frigid temperatures was on the way. Stock up on bread, milk and paper products now. Maybe some beef jerky and whiskey, if you are so inclined.

The Vortex, as it was known, was worse than anyone imagined. The polar air mass weakened, then descended over North America and squeezed hard. Ice piled on top of snow, and temperatures plunged to numbers never before seen in these parts. The media got it wrong, very wrong, and the land was gripped by a thick white (and yellow) concrete which paralyzed the population.

Days, went by, weeks or more, things didn’t get better. Unbeknownst to the wider population, city and Federal officials (and a few pop stars) had already relocated to the bunkers in the Blue Ridge Mountains at Mount Weather. Two days after the storm, the plows ceased. Then the power. The ka-chunk, ka-chunk of the machines continued for a while longer, seemingly on momentum and inertia alone, until they too slowed and went dormant.

The Vortex did not start the War, it only set the stage. No, the spark was something no one could have predicted. As supplies and fuel dwindled, residents took it upon themselves to dig out their cars and get out and see what they could find. The dig was hard, and people began saving their parking spaces with chairs so they could return to the front of their houses. Arguments began, as some believed the streets were public and open to anyone, while others claimed their hard work entitled them to the space they dug. Conflicts escalated as cold and hungry people began attacking cars, the chairs and then even each other.

Police and government officials were nowhere to be found, so people organized themselves into militias, taking one side or the other to mete out their own justice. Whether they owned a car or not, it didn’t matter. The free-space people became known as the Spacemen and the my-space people got the name the Chairmen. Neighborhood militias joined other neighborhoods, then entire cities and regions were at war. As the months passed and the ice melted, people largely forgot the reason for the conflict. It became more about opposing ideologies – very different but somewhat vague approaches to the same goal of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. The cars were out of gas, technology failed and progress halted.

There was no negotiation, no middle ground – you were either on one side or the other, and the others needed to be destroyed. Eventually, the Chairmen migrated north and the Spacemen to the south. A demilitarized zone fifty miles wide extended from coast to coast, and could be seen from space, like a giant scar across the land that would never heal. Entry into the DMZ or an attempt to cross it was a capital offense.

One could call it peace, but it was not. During the war, Russia had annexed Alaska and their navy had a permanent presence off the west coast. Media for the Chairmen hailed the presence of Russia as a great ally, who would supply arms in case of any attacks across the DMZ by the Spacemen. China, not wanting to be left out, seized the peninsula formerly known as Florida, and blockaded the Caribbean and the Gulf of America, which they mockingly renamed the New China Sea. The Spacemen press lauded the Chinese for securing the southern seas to keep out any Chairmen attempting to do an end-around the DMZ. Those we thought were allies struggled with their own problems after The Vortex and simply watched in horror. It’s only a matter of time now. All is lost.

Chris Jones