
In an exclusive extract from his new book The End of Everything, the Warwickshire-born SF visionary pictures the apocalypse, as seen from the shores of Kent
In the beginning – if there could be said to have been a beginning – no one really understood what had happened.
There was a decade of confusion. Populations declined across the board, as you would expect given the accompanying economic changes. All along the coast, the little places that had made an income from retirees and weekenders – from tourism in general, from a proximity to remnant medieval priories or bijou nature reserves compiled out of two or three acres of hawthorn scrub, a pond and the possible presence of a locally occurring frog –…
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