Simulations Opening

She walks slowly over the wet sand. If this coastal town was quiet before the War, now it is positively dead. Her father said it would happen. What did he say? "It will all be gone anyway, so forget school." And she had. But her father, for all his military might, for all his genius, he made a mistake. They forgot to bomb the town. They bombed his Base, even though he thought nobody knew where it was.
She walks back to the bench, her fifteen year old feet pinched by the pebbly beach. It feels like sunday because nothing is moving. Everything is silent. No one is around. She wishes she wasn't here. But she cannot imagine anywhere that is safe these days.
Above her a yellow dust drifts lower. It is a strange dust that lands on her hands, and on her face. When she reaches the bench she finds her clothes have been stolen. She stands naked, while the radioactive dust settles softly over her.
A little boy, sitting somewhere on the promenade, but she can't see where, shouts at her. She can tell from his voice that he is little. "Do you want some tea?" Her hands move to block out the yellow glare from her eyes, but then slide back to cover her body. She finally sees him. He seems preoccupied with a tin, a tiny silver speck from this distance, that is too hot to touch. Well, it is just a little boy. She comes a little closer and sees the flames licking the silver tin, and making plumes of steam whistle through the tiny holes the boy has punched through the lid. The sand on her feet scratch against the wood as she steps closer. The little boy frowns. The steam hisses and whistles. She sees a scarf that is flowing out the top of a black disposal bag. She pulls it out and makes a diaper out of it. Next she pulls on a gray t-shirt. She digs deeper but there are no shorts, no trousers, just shirts and scarfs. The little boy still has not even glanced at her.
"Where did you get this?"
The little boy, concentrating on the wire coathanger he has used to wrap around the tin as a kind've handle, lifts the makeshift kettle off the flames.
"Do you want to share some tea with me?"
"Is it greasy?"
"I'm afraid it is. But I have to drink something. I'm parched."
"We shouldn't eat or drink anything you know. It's all contaminated."
Now he stares at her for a few seconds.
"I know," he says finally.
She begins to rub the dust from her skin.
"I saw who took your clothes. He's over there, watching us."
She glances into the little boys blue blue eyes. They are bright, and dance intelligently behind the clear glass of his spectacles.
He grins mischievously. "I've got some flashbangs in that green bucket. We can throw some at him and take back what's ours."
"What did he take from you?"
"A telescope."
"Oh, a telescope. That might come in handy."
He hands her a scalded mug. Garfield is brown instead of yellow. She has to hold it by the handle because the tea inside is hot.
"Where is he?"
"There, in the hotel."
"I can't see him."
"Go on, have a drink."
"Why did he take my clothes. They're too small for him and surely he's wearing something." The boy says nothing.
"Do you have any sugar?"
"Of course not. Go on."
"You first."
"I made it, so you have to drink it."
She winces a little. "Do you want your clothes back or not?"
"I don't know." Then, without thinking, she takes a sip. She feels a little sick drinking it. She feels like she is drinking stagnant water, something that could well be poisonous. But she has to put something into her body. She has to.
"What's your name?" the boy asks.
"Just called me Nipper."
"Nipper? All right. Nipper."
She didn't ask for his name. She brushes the dust carefully off her skin.
The boy sighs. Moments later he sighs again. She raises her eyebrows at him.
"How old are you?"
"Ten."
"You?"
"Older than you. What are you sighing for?"
"Every day feels like Sunday. No school. Nothing happening. No telly. No tea." They look out over the beach. Gray clouds have swallowed up the yellow mists.
"That's how it is now," she says softly, standing in the cold wet air. Soon the rain will fall and once it makes contact with the ground, the ground will become warm. Almost like it is cooking. Nipper suddenly moves to the steps of the promenade.
"Hey, where are you going?"
"To the dentist. We can't be outside when it rains. Thanks for the tea."
"Hey, can I come with you? Nipper, can I come with you?"
Her eyes wander down and to the left, then meet his.
"If you can get me my clothes."
The little boy spins around, grabs three flashbangs out of the beach bucket, and before she can say anything, sprints off towards the hotel. He hurls all three of them in quick succession. There are three deafening bangs, plumes of white smoke and shattered glass, and a little boy who emerges carrying a big white telescope and some trousers.
There is no sign of the man.
"Where is he?" she says, glancing at the still smoking hotel.
"He ran away."
"OK, come along then," she says, and they walk off together, leaving the small fire still burning on the pier.