When the world was out on fire and the miners were wiping their hands after the last piece of coal dug miles beneath their feet, a stubborn green-eyed human stood silently looking at the giant three-bladed machine.
A white-collar man who recalled his decisions to pass the bills to exhaust the land. For him, this planet was an eternal source of fossils and also a cash bank that no longer served its purpose. He recalled all his debates where he countered the facts that the Sea pangolin, the Blue-legged mantilla, the Red ruffed lemur, the Lygodactylus williamsi, and several hundreds of other species are endangered by deep depth mining. With his head high in dismay, he harked back to the last breath of a Montana resident who died of bronchial cancer (Golden Dreams, Poisoned Streams: How Reckless Mining Pollutes America’s Water, and How We Can Stop It). As he walked towards the shore, he felt a heap of plastic crawling beside his feet. It, apparently, it was a tortoise suffocating through the net, “the world used to be a beautiful place when I was born“.
Welcome to 2050!