Dec 26th, 2037
In the tumult of the Heiligabend-Zusammenbruchsjahr, Brenda Myers's parents perished at the hands of rioting masses, their aggression driven by hunger and desperation. These harrowing events orphaned Brenda and her siblings, Emma, studying in London, and Maximilian, on a photography assignment in Australia—neither of whom Brenda has heard from since the collapse. This cruel twist of fate left her ostensibly without family, alone in a world turned upside down.
While society crumbled in March of '26, Brenda was deep in her nanotechnology studies at the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology in Zurich. However, as hunger besieged Zurich and chaos ensued, she was forced to flee the now-vulnerable bastion of learning with no more than the clothes on her back.
Her grueling return to Mittenwald was marked by danger and solitude. The societal implosion necessitated suspicion; trust became a luxury Brenda could not afford. She endured harrowing experiences, narrowly evading assault and managing to escape captivity by poisoning her captors with ethylene glycol. Throughout this near-year journey of resilience, Brenda never faltered in her search for sustenance and safety.
When finally she reached Mittenwald, the embrace of home was replaced by the starkness of intrusion—her family's mansion overrun with squatters. Yet, in the wake of bereavement, Brenda rallied, persuading the occupants to join her in restoring power and rebuilding. Her promise of cooperation bore fruit, and in two months' time, those within her family's walls transformed from squatters to valuable members of a rejuvenated community.
As each Christmas arrived, it cast a spotlight on Brenda's solitude, juxtaposing the communal cheer of Mittenwald with the silent echoes of her once joyful home. The season, a stark reminder of her irreplaceable losses, magnified the emptiness where warmth and laughter once resided. Brenda Myers, once a bright student of the microscopic, now contended with the macroscopic void left by her beloved family.
Christmas had become a complex time for Brenda Myers, its festive trappings an annual reminder of her solitude. Yet the holiday season also brought fleeting comforts, as she sought company in the arms of others—an attempt to soften the sharp edges of loneliness. This year, one such comfort came in the form of Richard, whose presence in her bed come morning was as unexpected as it was peaceful. He lay there, watching her, a silent unclothed figure bathed in the soft light filtering through the curtains. He was approaching 38, but he still looked good and he knew it.
Their bedroom was a blend of the old and the new. Her once-singular refuge now contained traces of Brenda's attempts to reinvent herself. The heavy curtains, which once blockaded the world, now allowed slivers of dawn to stream in, casting warm, golden light against the cool, clinical steel of the high-tech equipment that dotted her personal laboratory space. High shelves, though sparse, cradled nanotechnology texts and manuals, flanked by barren picture frames that still whispered of absent smiles.
By unspoken mutual consent, they steered clear of the previous night's intimacy, instead picking up on an ongoing debate as if threading a needle back through the fabric of their professional dynamic.
"I've thought it over," Richard said nonchalantly, his gaze fixed on her. "I do have a role as an ambassador, and as much as I enjoy being your lab partner, if you don't allow me to work on my own projects, then I believe I'm honor-bound to travel down to Musk's compound and see what I can do from there."
His words landed softly in the room, almost muffled by the thick walls—walls that held within them a weight of history that Brenda juggled daily. Her mansion, transformed from a family home into a quasi-laboratory and command center, spoke volumes of her commitment to the cause, yet the chill in the air hinted at the personal costs of such dedication.
"You wait until we have sex and then use leaving as a leverage chip?" Brenda asked, a hint of amusement in her voice as she propped herself up against the hand-carved wooden headboard—a relic from more opulent times.
"I don't remember practically forcing you into bed," Richard retorted with a charming smile, dimples in full effect, and a twinkle in his eyes that seemed bright even in the morning's diffused light. "I seem to remember someone being quite keen on the idea. In fact, I don't even think it was my idea," he added playfully, his smile intensifying as he faced Brenda's mock exasperation.
"You've been hitting on me since you met me," she countered, the warmth from the prior evening lingering like the subtleties of her perfume in the air, a scent mingling with the stale odor of solder and metal from her workbench on the far side of the room.
"I wasn't the one to play the dead parents card—though I could have," Richard responded, his words slicing through the tension before he could catch them. Seeing her expression darken, he realized he'd overstepped, yet he found himself fumbling silently for words to retract the sting.
"Anyway," he continued, eager to navigate away from the brewing storm, "It's not that I want to leave. How about this: I do a project for you, then one for myself, for the IPF really. Though I warn you, some of my projects could take upwards of a year. And as I've already done three for you, I'm going to start on my most important one."
"And what would that be?" Brenda asked, her curiosity piqued despite the lingering discomfort.
"I'm going to bring back music," Richard revealed with an exuberant flurry of jazz hands, his grin spreading as wide as the plush comforter that lay crumpled at the foot of the bed. The idea seemed to make him glow brighter than the soft morning light peeking around the curtains.
"Music? Who the hell cares about music?" Brenda questioned, an eyebrow arched in skepticism, her voice echoing slightly off the bare, exposed wood beams overhead.
"That may be the saddest question I've ever heard. And that includes 'how much of the population is left?' Seriously," Richard replied. His tone was earnest, carrying across the room. The world outside might have been frosty and silent, but Richard's intentions promised to fill it with melody once again.