Protocol One

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Eventually, striking a match would become a luxury. Something so simple, so accessible, could be the gold of tomorrow. I hated the thought of lighting that match. I prolonged it. I held high hopes that it would be the last and only one I had to use. But I had to light it… just in case.

Just in case.

In case every bit of planning was for naught. Just in case everything we learned and were told ended up wrong. That match, that single match would start it all.

Granted, there were ten thousand matches in storage. What a ridiculous amount. I scoffed at that. But in the dark, it seemed miniscule. How long really would ten thousand matches last? Long enough until we found another way? I supposed that rationing them from the get go was what needed to be done.

Rationing was a word I would have to learn to use.

It started with a match.

Yet, I hesitated in lighting it.

In that moment, maybe a few seconds or a minute into it, I thought about life up to that moment. My mind raced.

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