“Do we have enough batteries?” Lieutenant Chen asked for the hundredth time that morning, obsessively checking and rechecking the military radio equipment.
“Yes, sir. Enough to last through nuclear winter,” Private Wang replied with a smirk, already tired of this daily ritual. “Though I’m not sure why we keep counting them when we haven’t received a transmission in three months.”
They were stationed in what remained of an underground bunker, supposedly the last military outpost in a war-torn landscape. The war had ended - or at least they assumed it had, given the deafening silence that followed the last explosion they heard 97 days ago.
“You know what’s funny?” Chen mused, arranging the batteries in perfect rows like toy soldiers. “Before all this, I used to work at a battery factory. Quality control. Spent my days making sure these little power cells were perfect. Now look at me - still counting batteries, just waiting for them to tell us we can go home.”
Wang lounged in his chair, feet propped up on a defunct computer console. “Sir, with all due respect, don’t you think it’s a bit absurd? We’re guarding batteries for a radio that might never crackle again, in a bunker that’s slowly becoming our tomb.”
“Protocol is protocol, Private. Besides, what else would we do?”
“We could always eat them,” Wang suggested with mock seriousness. “I heard the zinc might give us superpowers.”
Chen actually laughed at that - a rare sound in their underground world. “You’ve been reading too many of those pre-war comics we found in storage.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden static burst from the radio. Both men froze, eyes wide with anticipation.
“This is Central Command…” the voice crackled through layers of interference. “To all remaining outposts… Prepare for… Final protocol…”
Chen scrambled for the transmitter, hands shaking. “This is Outpost 23! We read you! We have sufficient batteries for continued operation!”
The voice continued, ignoring their response: “…All personnel are hereby ordered to… Maintain positions indefinitely… Until further notice…”
The transmission cut off abruptly, leaving them in silence once again.
Wang broke into hysterical laughter. “Maintain positions indefinitely? They’re not coming for us, are they, sir?”
Chen just stared at his perfectly arranged rows of batteries. “Protocol is protocol,” he repeated softly.
“You know what’s really ironic?” Wang continued, his laughter taking on a bitter edge. “All these batteries, and we’re the ones running out of power. Mentally, physically, existentially.”
Chen picked up a battery, turning it over in his hands. “At least we have enough batteries to last until the end,” he said with a strange smile. “Whatever that means.”
“The end of what, sir?”
“Everything. Nothing. Does it matter anymore?”
They sat in silence, surrounded by their stockpile of unused power, waiting for orders that would never come, in a world that had already moved on without them.
The batteries would indeed last forever - far longer than they would need them to.