A randomly chosen page from my novel Crunch, a book about collapse, about control (and the lack of it). 

Page 103:

living in a world transformed by war or some other travesty. A world turned to chaos where past sins would be erased and the possibilities would be endless. The romance of living life at a level near starvation, surrounded by people who no longer feel the burden of moral constraints, where the ground could open suddenly beneath you, or a building or some other thundering object could come tumbling down on you … You could be anything you wanted in an environment like that. The man next to him hunches closer to the bar, considering the remarks. I guess you’re right, he says, nearly inaudibly. It’s time, as I’ve continually impressed upon all of you in the past, as all our time here together has been preparing us, to simplify. To simplify not only our mode of living, but, as we head into battle, to simplify our very beings—to simplify spiritually. Several of the farmhands gathered about Isaac nod in agreement, though the expressions on their faces betray less certainty. The mosquito lands, pricks, and sucks. The valve on the water spigot is turned, causing the pipe to choke and cough. Nothing. So you’re really gonna play it that way, huh? Not gonna say anything? I’ll tell you again, I have nothing to say. I know nothing. None of us knows anything, the scientist sighs to her colleague. At least that’s how I’m beginning to feel. Things are moving too fast. What is this? she exclaims, extending a flat palm toward the microscope on the table between them. How can this even be possible? We’ve long theorized, her