ansel adams was a liar

The roads in the United States, were not paved with gold, not even metaphorically. Noah had had to come to terms with that long ago.

It was coming to terms with what the streets were lined with, covered with now that was even harder than the first revelation.

Debris littered the Americas. Debris of the dead, of the terrible war that had murdered the world in less than two months, of the monstrosities that had somehow escaped the boundaries of it's creators, it's parents, to murder, and now possibly rule the globe rest of eternity.

What was a crime such as this called: matricide, patricide, infanticide, genocide? Regardless, it was brutal and swift. 

As Noah walked down the street, he could see some wit had scrawled in large letters on a building:

"Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, for the instant obliteration of the world!"

The author, was clearly next to the words, hanging from a telegraph pole. Dogs has been at his bare feet, and such a short time ago that the fresh paint still dripped from his fingers. 

The dogs had gone now - Noah could hear their barks and howls a few blocks away.