DAY ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTEEN
December thirtieth. There’d been some talk of waiting until the first of January, but what was the point? The dawn of a new year meant nothing anymore, if it ever really had. The arbitrary position of the planet in its journey around the sun today was of no more or less importance than its position this time last week or next. No one yet had any thought of abandoning the calendar altogether or starting again from Year Zero, nothing like that. It was still going to be important to keep track of the days, weeks, and months so they could use the seasons, as people always had, to keep themselves safe, warm, and fed. But as the events of last week had proved beyond doubt, for the most part, anniversaries and other previously significant dates counted for nothing an
