Apocalypse Survival: Starting with a Shelter

"The core of the shelter lies 10 meters underground."

"It connects to the surface through an inclined passageway, linking the ground level to the first underground floor."

"Near the shelter's entrance tunnel on the first underground floor, we can set up a decontamination room, a garage, and a changing room to facilitate entry and exit in the future."

"We can also install a 20-square-meter lift platform capable of supporting vehicles, providing access between the first and second underground floors and deeper levels below."

Su Wu carefully planned the internal layout of the shelter on his laptop, methodically allocating space.

After finalizing the essential functional areas, he turned his attention to the remaining 500 square meters of open space on the first underground floor. He deliberated for over half an hour before deciding to divide it into two zones: a 200-square-meter rice cultivation area and a 300-square-meter vegetable cultivation area.

In a resource-scarce apocalypse, aside from electricity, food was undeniably the most crucial factor. Sustaining basic survival hinged on a reliable food supply.

Establishing a self-sufficient source of grains and vegetables became a top priority.

Unlike conventional farmland, the shelter's rice and vegetable cultivation zones would rely entirely on soilless farming. Artificial grow lights would replace sunlight to create optimal growing conditions.

To maximize the shelter's limited and valuable space, the rice cultivation zone would feature a four-tiered shelf system, while the vegetable zone would have ten tiers. This design expanded the actual planting area to 800 square meters for rice and 3,000 square meters for vegetables.

"With over an acre of rice cultivation space," Su Wu calculated, "and an artificially optimized environment, the growth cycle should be reduced to four months, yielding roughly 1,600 pounds of rice—enough to sustain at least ten people's daily needs."

His estimate was conservative. Some high-yield hybrid rice varieties could easily produce 1.5 to 2 times more. But Su Wu preferred quality over quantity; the taste of hybrid rice was significantly inferior to standard varieties.

For the 3,000-square-meter vegetable zone—nearly five acres—Su Wu chose to primarily grow fast-maturing crops such as lettuce, bok choy, spinach, and cabbage, supplemented by smaller quantities of tomatoes, cucumbers, and other common vegetables.

The fast-growing crops would prioritize efficiency and yield, mainly for trade with other shelters. The others would focus on quality, reserved for Su Wu's own meals.

Given his limited resources, Su Wu could only establish the basic framework of a personal shelter. For better living conditions and future expansion, external trade would be essential—another reason for the vegetable zone's existence.

After finalizing the vegetable selection, Su Wu hesitated briefly before adding strawberries, grapes, pineapples, and other fruit to the cultivation plan.

These fruits were intended for internal use within the shelter. Considering how much people enjoyed eating fruit compared to vegetables, he allocated a generous 600 square meters for their cultivation—an indulgence reflecting his determination to improve his quality of life.

"That should do for now."

With the first underground floor fully planned, Su Wu stretched, a rare sense of satisfaction washing over him.

The shelter, his own creation, was finally starting to take shape.

Although it only had one floor for now, it was enough to sustain long-term survival in an emergency.

Amid the looming apocalypse, nothing brought greater comfort or peace of mind.

With the plans in place, construction proceeded smoothly.

The engineering team first built the framework for the large lift platform, which Su Wu upgraded using survival points to put into operation.

The construction crew then split into two groups. Excavators and transport vehicles continued digging the second underground floor, while engineering robots and two construction robots began building the decontamination room, changing room, and garage near the lift platform on the first floor. Occasionally, they reinforced the newly excavated spaces on the second floor.

Since the second floor neared the bedrock layer, where excavators were less efficient, Su Wu used additional survival points to upgrade a rock crusher vehicle to join the team.

After 24 hours of non-stop work, the three robots had transformed the first underground floor into a functional space. All basic infrastructure—pipes, wiring, partition walls, and ventilation ducts—was completed. Only the hydroponic cultivation zones remained untouched.

On May 31, the final day of the month, the first underground floor of the shelter was officially completed.

Su Wu spent five survival points to install a semi-automated, unmanned management system in both cultivation zones. He named the floor Hydroponic Farm and initiated its operation, planting the planned crops: rice, vegetables, and fruits.

Due to the last-minute addition of fruit, Su Wu had to procure seeds and saplings from local markets. Fortunately, these items were readily available in seed stores, and he quickly bartered canned goods and grains to secure them without delaying production.

Meanwhile, on the same day, Luo Tianyi, his AI assistant, uncovered a grim piece of news while scouring the internet:

In a remote African rift valley, temperatures at a large tribal settlement had spiked to 155°F (68°C) at 9:20 a.m., breaking global records. Within hours, the entire settlement—thousands of people—had succumbed to dehydration in the extreme heat. There were no survivors.

"The apocalypse has begun," Su Wu whispered, staring at photos taken by a federal rescue team.

He felt a chill run down his spine, realizing this might not be an isolated incident but the true onset of the end times.

A mix of tension and unease gripped him. Despite his meticulous preparations, humanity's fragile body seemed woefully inadequate against the world-altering catastrophes unfolding.

On June 1, the pace of disaster escalated.

That morning, a second extreme heat zone appeared over Antarctica, causing glaciers to melt and evaporate at a visible rate.

Over the oceans, hurricanes roared and torrential rains poured down.

Within hours, a coastal city near Antarctica was swallowed by a sudden tsunami. Over 200,000 residents vanished without a trace.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, alarms blared across East Continent's coastal cities.

Every television station repeated the federal government's emergency announcement, urging residents in coastal and port cities to evacuate inland to higher ground immediately.

But evacuating millions—even tens of millions—was a logistical nightmare that couldn't be accomplished in a short time.

Ten hours after the alarms sounded, the first evacuation convoys had just left the coastal plains for the interior highlands.

Countless oth

ers remained stranded in coastal cities, racing against death and awaiting their fate.