APOCALYPSE

Radiation casualties—ultimately, the conception of the whole world as a casualty of nuclear testing and nuclear warfare—is the most ominous of all the notions with which science fiction films deal. Universes become expendable. Worlds become contaminated, burnt out, exhausted, obsolete.

In a 2020 YouGov poll, nearly one in three Americans said they expected an apocalyptic event in their lifetimes, with the Christian Judgment Day relegated to fourth place by a pandemic, climate change and nuclear war; zombies and aliens brought up the rear.

A great enough disaster cancels all enmities, and calls upon the utmost concentration of the earth's resources.

Surviving is almost entirely a mental game. Being calm, rational and able to regulate your emotions is an extremely important soft skill. Surviving is high-stress, and recognizing when the body is in psychological distress is essential.

Doomerism can be seductive: It allows for the security of a foregone conclusion, and beneath its faith that the end is inevitable lies a subtle note of satisfaction.

As those movies attest, we excel at imagining future scenarios, including awful ones. But such apocalyptic visions are a form of escapism, not a moral summons, and still less a plan of action. Where we stumble is in conjuring up grim futures in a way that helps to avert them.

A peer-reviewed 2021 survey of people aged between 16 and 25 around the world found that 56% agreed with the statement “Humanity is doomed”.

Today, a third of all Americans say they spend some part of their household budget on prepping.