In the year 1945, my Father, Cotton, serving in the army, wondered when he'd get to go home to his wife and son. He got his wish when the Japanese machine gun nest blew off his shins and he woke up in an Army hospital with his feet reattached to his knees.
The World awaited Armageddon; instead, something miraculous happened. We began to use clean burning propane not as a weapon, but as a nearly limitless source of power.
People enjoyed luxuries once thought the realm of science fiction. Domestic robots, fusion-powered cars, portable computers. But then, in the 21st century, people awoke from the American dream.
Years of consumption lead to shortages of every major resource. The entire world unraveled. Peace became a distant memory. It is now the year 2077. We stand on the brink of total war, and I am afraid. For myself, for my wife, for my son who ain't right - because if my time at Strickland has taught me one thing: it's that propane, propane never changes.