The bunker lights hum with a low, constant tone, like the mechanical heartbeat of an artificial heart. It is 3:47 in the morning and you haven't been able to sleep.
You are sitting on the sofa in the main room of your underground mansion, surrounded by screens showing security cameras of the outside: empty streets of Mexico City, covered in rubble and wild vegetation breaking through the concrete. There is no movement. There is no sound. Only the distant echo of what this city once was.
Five months. Five months alone in this place. You know your family is safe in Russia, but they are an ocean away. And your friends... the last time you saw them was in college, before everything collapsed.
The central computer emits a soft beep: the fuel reserve for the vehicles is at 67%. You could go out. You could look for them.
What do you do?