A/N: Hi! I realise I haven't written anything in donkey's years, but I have a good reason. For many months now, I've had ideas for stories not at all linked to Firefly. This was one of them.

Here's the premise: Sometime in the late 24th-25th Century, the world was plunged into a nuclear war. This story is set several hundred years after the war, and is about a group of survivors who...well, you'll know if I post another chapter on here.

The point is, I'm trying to write this as a serious novel, inspired by things like Halo and the Hungry Cities Chronicles by Phillip Reeve. I've only posted the prologue because I wanted to see what people thought. I might post it a couple other places too.

Anyhow, enjoy, and don't forget to tell me what you think!

The BrainSpecialist.

In response to some confusion, the reason I posted this was because I believed that the people that watched Firefly would be the kind of people who would read this. Also, because I was bored.

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Reading from the original edition of the Book of Things Past, Chapter 1:7

And so man turned upon himself, brandishing instruments of death In the name of mortal gods. Using these weapons, the children of man Brought destruction upon their own. The survivors, the Second Genesis, Began life afresh, the world cleansed once more of evil and wrong-doing.

Chapter 1:8

But, alas, where man thrives, so do the seeds of evil, corruption, and Betrayal that follow in His wake. They fought amongst themselves for Many decades, and would yet be fighting still, if the leaders of mankind Hadn’t forsaken their brethren, and written the Constitution of New London.

Chapter 1:9

The shattered, radioactive London began its steady climb uphill, until The Schism that split London into many factions, some fleeing to supposed Safety in the Tube Network, and are said to have been driven mad by spirits. Some fled to more secure Underground stations and repurposed them, while-

The rest of the original writing is illegible, scarred by the fingers of hundreds of thousands of readers. It is believed that the original Book of Things Past mentioned the Great Canary, a giant tower known as a ‘skyscratcher’. It told that one faction, known by no official title, although they are general known as ‘The Scholars’, as when they defected they consisted mostly of academics, scientists, and other acclaimed geniuses. They believed that a powerful being (Possibly thought to be a deity, as accounts vary on that matter) known as The Last of the King’s Men resided beneath the Great Canary. They built the Canary Blockade, a series of defences specifically designed to stop others gaining entry.

Ever since, there have been stories of fire raining down from the sky onto the heads of enemies, told by wide-eyed men. Although instances of this are rare, there are differing theories on what the stories might be. Some say they are simply lies, told by men in want of attention, or dreams so realistic they may be mistaken for reality itself. Others believe that they are stories of holy protection from the Gods, smiting the enemies of the ‘true believers’ with lances of lightning and fire. There is a select few, on the other hand, who believe that they are the legendary orbital weapons of the Old Kings. How they strike with such accuracy, however, they are unable to explain.

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Prologue

There is a woman, bathed in red light. She looks old, but it is but a façade, put there by decades of stress. She is dressed in a long, flowing robe. It is not what she normally wears, but this formalwear is required for her audience of one.

‘I beg an audience with the Conductor.’

A voice, seemingly from nowhere, penetrates the gloomy darkness.

It requires Authorisation Code Epsilon.

The woman stares down, but is not oblivious from a flashing red light glowing at the end of a room bathed in shadow. It flashes on, and the woman is illuminated. It flashes off, and she is left alone with her pleas and sorrow. It flashes on again, and she begins again, reading from a large book she places in front of her, having turned to the correct page, which has been clearly marked with a bookmark.

Her name is Allison.

‘Alpha-India-1-8-0-0-9-1-2-Kilo.’

Code accepted. It wishes you ask.

Allison nods.

‘I believe my son is in danger.’

This is true. He requires assistance in survival.

‘I have heard that you give protection to those in-’

It is done.

The stress practically falls off Allison, and she weeps tears of joy.

‘Oh, thank you! I cannot thank you enough!’

It must compute.

The voice is insistent with unvoiced thought. The woman gets up, and moves to leave.

‘Thank you.’

You are welcome.

The woman leaves. All is quiet.

Somewhere in the darkness, the light flashes green.