"A bitter-tasting rain washes over the raw wreckage of human civilization. With only a heavy pipe to defend you, you forge out of your threadbare shelter, desperate for food. At first, you think you must be imagining the strains of an old favorite song rising above the sound of wind and leaves, but you follow the pounding heartbeat of familiar music until you’re sure you're not dreaming. It leads you to a dilapidated house lying among the trees. The curtains are drawn, but there’s light inside. The front door is ajar. Inside, a figure in a brittle, wrinkled suit sits on a sofa, listening to a record deck. You haven't seen another living thing in so very