Hike

Chapter 371,755 wordsCompleted

Snowman leaves the former park and walks inland along destroyed boulevards littered with wrecked solar‑cars, burnt‑out trucks, fuel‑cell vans, ATVs, bicycles and motorcycles. Most structures remain but are being overtaken by vines that split the asphalt and threaten to collapse walls and roofs. He notes the abundance of hoarded lead bullets in the area, yet he cannot find any ammunition because he has no firearm.

While moving, Snowman speculates about isolated pockets of humanity that might still exist—desert monks, mountain goatherders, underground bunker dwellers, hillbillies, wandering lunatics, nomadic bands. He reflects on how future discoverers would interpret the ruins of monuments such as the Taj Mahal, the Louvre, the Pyramids and the Empire State Building, eventually calling them “phantasmagoria” once the dreaming mind that created them is gone.

A flashback interweaves a conversation between Crake and Jimmy (Snowman’s younger self). Crake argues that the loss of a single generation would erase complex knowledge—metallurgy, electricity, tool making—making civilization unrecoverable. Jimmy counters with optimism about popcorn, beer, and the possibility that instructions might survive, but Crake dismisses the idea, emphasizing the need for tools, apprentices and continuous transmission.

Snowman negotiates a narrow, vine‑choked side street, watches vultures circling overhead, and steps on a thick tendril that may be a snake. He worries about “snats” – mutated rats with green scaly tails and rattlesnake fangs – but decides not to dwell on them. He hums “Winter Wonderland” to steady himself and muses that he may be the last “snowman,” a fleeting white illusion destined to melt under the sun.

After drinking water, Snowman reaches the edge of the urban sprawl: empty parking lots, warehouses, barbed‑wire‑strung cement posts marking the transition to “Compound turfdom.” He notes the last sealed‑tunnel bullet‑train station with its plastic‑jungle‑gym colours, and realizes the open asphalt ahead will become too hot to walk on before noon. He pulls a sheet over his cap for shade and quickens his pace.

He passes the signage of three former biotech outfits: CryoJeenyus (the frozen‑millionaire project), Genie‑Gnomes (the elfin‑mascot test‑tube operation), and RejoovenEsense (the massive complex where he once “made many mistakes”). At the first barricade a half‑in, half‑out guard is missing a head and his spray‑gun is absent. He then moves through a cleared “No Man’s Land” once called by Crake, now overrun by weeds and lacking heat‑and‑motion sensors.

On the approach road he encounters a “treasure‑hunt‑in‑reverse” of abandoned items: a suitcase spilling clothes, an open overnight bag with a pink toothbrush, a bracelet, a butterfly‑shaped hair ornament, and a water‑logged notebook with illegible handwriting. He interprets the debris as evidence that fleeing occupants once hoped the objects would be useful but later abandoned them.

Overall the chapter blends stark environmental description, philosophical rumination on extinction, and a thin thread of past dialogue to illustrate Snowman’s solitary trek toward still‑functional corporate compounds, underscoring his isolation, physical exhaustion, and the inexorable reclamation of human civilization by nature.