The Wasteland is the death of romance, and the rebirth of True Love.
There’s no time for endless conversation; road trips are hazardous and only ever done under duress; sex means kids and/or diseases; there’s no future to speak of, so nothing to fake.
Life returns to the business of survival:
Can he get the food?
Can she cook it?
Will he fight off the marauders
or
will she go with them?
There are no endless chances when one false move can mean death; there’s no do-overs out in the Wasteland, only final solutions. The days are long and difficult; there’s plenty of time to think things over, and even more to endure the consequences of your actions.
We are going back to the past but bringing a little of the future with us, techno-savages all: men on horseback with drones, doctors with hacksaws and 3D printers, wicked cities powered by solar and slaves.
Will you sink, or will you swim? We ain’t here to fuck around; there’s no room for dead weight. Every action in the Wasteland is brimming with love, or filled with the deepest of malice.
If you love me, you won’t tell me; you’ll show me.