CHINESE STATE MEDIA

When the world ends, white dust will fill the air like the curtain at the end of a play. A rain of desperate bodies will fall from the windows of burning buildings, drumming the concrete below. Men with splinters in their eyes will stumble through streets choked with debris; women clutching babies will pick through the rubble and tear out their hair.

Our generation will go to its grave shouting its last words into a cell phone.