In the year 2525, man is still alive. Woman has survived. But our world has suffered for the human race's longevity. We make ourselves better able to withstand an environment we could not save. Air filters in our lungs let us breathe polluted air, we replace our cancerous skin with metal, and we convert our stomachs to process fuels that replace the cattle and greens that have gone extinct. The electric car, the wind turbine, and solar energy: myths that failed due to funding limitations or wars men fought to control the very things their violence destroyed. Smog hangs in the stagnant air, and soot rains down in iridescent flakes onto hardened skin and metal eyes that have no impetus to blink it off. This is how the world dies: not with a roar, but with a cough.
Worlds are best when they feel heard
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