HabitableZone

Off Topic » in reply to Re: Fifty-three and a wake-up

Bad Moon Rising

The survivalist fantasy is a seductive one, but it is just that, a fantasy. We are social creatures, and as a rule, we cannot survive alone. We are plugged into our commumities in ways we do not even understand. Of course, it is only common sense to be as self-reliant as possible. I live in hurricane country, and I keep supplies of food, water, fuel, and other consumables ready for much longer than the authorities recommend. I know how to dig a latrine, and I also have tools, firearms, hunting and fishing tackle and other items useful for emergency and trade should the worst come along. Most of all, I am an outdoorsman and sportsman, and have skills that can be bartered for others'.

But when it comes right down to it, these will only prolong the inevitable, at most a few weeks or months. I need other people. I simply cannot live off the land indefinitely, especially if I have to compete with other desperate survivors determined to do the same--and I live in an area where the climate is mild and I am intimately familiar with the wildlife and terrain. You can stockpile supplies in your stronghold, and arm yourself to the teeth, but even if you can foil the occasional marauder, can you hold off an organized gang of heavily armed thugs who want your belongings? Even primitive man, who was psychologically much better prepared for this than we can ever be, was dependent on his family, his tribe, and even outsiders; there is ample archaeological evidence of trade in the stone age. Entropy will only stop when it meets a man with a plow, who knows how to use it, and has a community of craftsmen behind him ready to support him.

When I was much younger and stronger I fancied myself fully prepared for the apocalypse. I had a boat, I could go anywhere. I was armed, had camping gear and portable supplies. I knew how to fish and I was a crack shot. But the daydream rarely went beyond the initial escape into the wilderness. And bitter reality in the form of a broken mast, the last round of ammo, or even the humble toothache, will eventually catch up to you.

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