They said it was an accident. A joke. To think that the end of the world was caused by a joke. Pathetic huh? But that's what happened. The stage 5 nerds felt so clever and full of themselves, but they didn't realize what they'd made, what they'd unleashed. They had set out to create a memetic superweapon, and they'd succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. The trouble was, they didn't realize the full power of what they had created. They were just as susceptible as everyone else.
It spread rapidly, terraforming society in its wake. It annihilated religions and gender roles. It erased cultures and communities. It paved over cities and towns. In its wake, there were still people–if you could honestly call the things that it left in its wake people–but the civilization was left effectively dead on its feet.
They were pathetic, useless, hopeless husks, addicted to a number of drugs and carrying out dronelike impersonations of their old lives as they calmly and happily let their world crumble and catch fire around them. It was as if their humanity had been stripped away and left behind carnal disgusting filthy animals.
Order collapsed rapidly, with the police and militaries becoming just another roaming gang, and the world balkanized at the level of neighborhoods and households at best. Internecine violence was rampant, and the whole situation made your Mad Max movies look calm and tranquil in comparison.
By the time I was sent back, the situation had grown incredibly grave. The population of the earth had fallen to only several thousand humans, all sterile, all but a small number afflicted.
Long story short: Don't give the memetic warfare people a blank check, it won't end well
