’TWAS the night before the eighteenth of March, when all through streets in front of houses not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The laughter of children and the chatter of women faded into hushed tones. Three million hungry denizens of the metropolis silenced to sleep grumbling stomachs.
Welcome to the “bubble,” a dystopian-like world previously stowed in the pages of books of fiction by Isaac Asimov, Ray Bradbury, Orson Scott Card, Cormac McCarthy and George Orwell.
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