“The Art of the Wasteland Deal” Warning sent back in time describes America in 2026

Entry 47 — April 15, 2097 — Coordinates: Formerly Known as Detroit

I arrived in what used to be Michigan today. The signs are gone, but locals refer to it as “The Diesel Frontier.” I had to trade half a can of peaches and an old iPhone for safe passage through what’s left of Ohio. The biker warlords there don’t accept Bitcoin—only pork rinds and ammo.

The collapse started, as the Archives tell it, after President Trump was reelected. His aggressive tariffs on foreign goods, and even more aggressive tweets at Canada, triggered a global economic cascade. America went from superpower to Supermax in under a year. Infrastructure crumbled. Imports vanished. Applebees became fortresses.

People now wear armor made from old Roomba parts. Gasoline is king. Beef jerky is currency. And kale is just a rumor.

In Washington D.C.—what’s left of it—Congress squats in the charred skeleton of a Dave & Buster’s. Laws are passed via shouting contests and skee-ball. I watched Matt Gaetz try to veto a rationing bill with a T-shirt cannon. He missed.

The President recently gave a fireside address surrounded by flaming tires. He said, “This is what winning looks like,” then rode off on a jet ski powered by Mountain Dew.

Still, not all is lost. In the Colorado Free Zone, a few scientists and schoolteachers are rebuilding. They call themselves “The Librarians.” I gave them my last flash drive—just a backup of Wikipedia—but they wept.

I head west tomorrow. I hear California has trees and something called “functional governance.”

Until then, I’ll keep moving. The sky is red, the roads are worse, and yet—somehow—Waffle Houses still endure.

— End Log

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