Relax, everybody. I believe there is a light at the end of this scary tunnel, beyond our tragi-comedic blip of an existence.
Somewhere near the tunnel’s end, a ragtag band of scorched Earth survivors will put up a valiant fight, through hordes of sub-human revenants, across Biblical-level apocalyptic hellscapes, to storm their way aboard the Ark.
They will arrive just as the Privileged are embarking. Met with superior force, naturally, they are cast down. The Privileged depart. Cue stirring overture.
Earth will adapt and create something with the horror and filth we’ve left in our greasy slipstream. Look at the Fukushima tomatoes. Earth will be fine.
In no time, geologically speaking, creative albeit catastrophic solutions around the globe will scour out most of the deadwood. The Cascadia subduction zone and Yellowstone caldera being merely local examples of organic cleansing resources already primed and aquiver with potential. There are so many others.
Oddly enough, Styrofoam® will turn out to be all the Earth really needed from us after all. George Carlin prophesied this years ago.
Cetaceans will develop flippers with opposable thumbs and their distant progeny will find the Ark orbiting one of the Jovian moons, mostly intact. No contact will be attempted.
But what about us?
Okay, what about us? We came. We saw. We pissed all over it and left in a huff.
Forever.
If that’s not a light, what is it?
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Originally published in the seventh annual anthology issue of “Groundwaters” in 2021. ~DRLE