It was 2068.  A cool, dirty mist hung over the  city’s dome, near the coast, the dirty streets lined with rotted trash, broken windows, vandalized shops. 

On a hill, overlooking the decaying city, sat a metal bunker.  The metal blast doors sealed with rubber, the near unbreakable reinforced glass.  The floor was strewn with empty bottles of anti-Bacterial disinfectants.  The walls were scrubbed until several patches of plaster had come off, the cold metal showing,  and the soft hum of an air purifier echoed throughout the house.

In the corner, sat an old man, perfectly clean, shaved.  One hand in a half empty cup of disinfectant,  the other was holding a bottle to his mouth as he drought it down.  His pupils dilated, his mouth in a smirk.  He let out a coarse laugh, set down the bottles, and continued rambling into his recorder, his last breaths faint and weak.

As the two sun’s fell over the horizon, the last of Earth’s first planet colony human’s had died.