The Cold War had been over for years, but there were plenty other bad things going on in the world. Fanatic terrorists could strike any time--and there didn't seem to be any way of stopping them. Nations in the Middle East and Asia were trying to develop nuclear weapons. The world was getting to be a super-tense place again--just like when he was a kid back in the 60's. But he wasn't sweating that so much. No, sir. The fallout shelter his dad built in the cellar some fifty years before was still there. He went down one day, knocked open the rusty old padlock, cleaned out the place and made it livable again, then restocked it. And, more and more often, he found himself going "down cellar" and locking himself in the shelter then sitting for hours toying with the shortwave radio, listening to static and sound from far-away places. The news grew grimmer and grimmer, and he knew he might well have to go into the shelter and lock himself in "for the duration" or until the world went up in exploding flames. He stocked the shelter with lots and lots of books--after all, there might come a time, and not before too long at that, when the radio, the television, and even the ubiquitous Internet all went kaput!--and books would be his only companions. He picked up the first book from the stack nearest his reclining chair; War and Peace, a nice long bulky novel. Locked securely in his fallout shelter in the depths of the cellar, he began to read. He felt quite comfortable with his book. The silence was wonderful. A pleasant thought drifted through his mind: I might just remain down cellar for the rest of my life!
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