Carve our name in hearts into the warhead

I watched the classic zombie movie Dawn of the Dead last night, and was somewhat surprised to discover that, far from being a horror film, it is actually a semi-utopian romance. The fact that two of the four main characters end up as zombies is somewhat immaterial. After brief purging of the slow-as-snails undead and some blockading, the characters have their own paradise in the form of a giant shopping mall stocked with everything they could ever want, including but not limited to fancy restaurants, a gun and ammo store, an ice skating rink, music, luxury items, and even electricity. Naturally, the lone female is pregnant.

Post-apocalyptic Edens propagating the continuation of the human race are alluded to by everyone from James Cameron to Josh Ritter. And in all of them, there is some hint of love more loyal, and deeper, even if more opportunistic, than what one would find in a broader world.

Perhaps, really, in this global age, we drive ourselves crazy in the obsession with our options. For truly, stuck in an entirely enclosed space with another non-enemy for an extended period of time, especially given the commonality of survival, one would quickly find a way to get along. And who among us has not momentarily wished, slowly tracing an outline in a photograph or a memory, to be thrown in some situation where the outline would trace us too, because there would be no other choice?

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