How to survive the apocalypse

Forest fires are raging, there are hurricanes and floods and earthquakes and stupid privileged people who don’t want to give up their single-use plastic takeout (I am, shamefully, stupid people)—let’s face it. This place is going to the dogs, and it’s got me thinking: what should I do when the apocalypse comes?

In this time of surreal fear and underdeveloped dread, I have decided to turn to the best guide I have for making it through this mess: dystopian young adult fiction. I am going to figure out how to survive the apocalypse based on the books I read up until 2014, the time of the Dystopian Renaissance. 

Let’s start with the only book on this list that anyone actually cares about: The Hunger Games. From the beginning, Katniss focused on one thing: survival. As redundant as it may sound, being locked in survival mode is probably the best way to make it to the end. I’m also going to need a signature weapon and an infuriating love triangle. I’m thinking about me, a loaded Super Soaker, my neighbor with the good hair, and the first guy I see in Yorkville who reeks of wealth and looks vaguely age appropriate. 

Next up: Divergent. This series taught me that I don’t actually have to worry about how I’m going to survive because we’re all in a simulation and I am special, so the programmers want me to make it. Thank god. Sorry to everyone else, though.

Finally, we have The Maze Runner. Reading this series showed me that we can’t give up, that there is a puzzle in front of all of us that we need to solve, and that we’re only going to be able to do it together. Also, that a pandemic is for sure the first sign of Big Danger, which, unfortunately, we all already knew. Most importantly, it taught me that we need an unassuming young man of average intelligence to be our leader and our hero. Oh, wait—that’s just the usual subliminal messaging kicking in. I say we all say f*ck off to the idea of singular genius, and try our hand at collaborative problem solving. 

But hey, if it doesn’t work out, I was wondering in advance if you’d like to meet me for a date by the dumpster fire? Not because I like you or anything. Unless you like me. Do you like me? Shut up! I hate you mOre. Did I mention that you look good under the light of the trash flames?