2076

In 2147 - nearly a century after the droughts, wars, and famines - a group of scientists working south of (what used to be) Dallas discovered an abandoned bunker half covered in mud and radioactive ash. After blowing open a rusted-out trap door, they ventured inside, moving aside age-old skeletons and quickly looking over empty food packets that were littered all over the floor. Their radiation meters beeping wildly, the researchers conducted a thorough scan of the layout, finding scratch marks on the walls, multiple cases of cannibalism, and one old, corroding computer that had the year 2076 marked as the last date of use.

Checking the bunker off as a bust, the scientists prepared to file out. As they began cleaning up and packing bones for DNA testing, one scientist tripped over a concealed hinge in the floor, crashing through a trap door. The dust gradually settling, he discovered a small, neat stack of black papers in the hole he had just uncovered. The scientists quickly brought the papers to their portable lab and began probing the stack. After meticulously filing through the evidence they found, the scientists were able to pull ten documents out of the entire stack - the rest were charred black, unrecognizable in their condition. As they carefully looked over the pictures and files in front of them, they slowly put together a rough story of the apocalypse they were living through.

Unlike most of my portfolios, this group of photographs faces a real challenge to society right now: the idea of an apocalypse. Through researching natural phenomena and disasters, I gained a better idea of how devastating an apocalypse would be. Whether created through climate change, nuclear destruction, or population imbalances, the situations we are putting society and the world through have the capability not only to wipe out this generation, but to ensure that life forms on earth will never return.

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The Truck