Fed up with humanity’s endless destruction, Mother and Father Nature finally took action during the Third World War. “Enough!” he roared, his voice reverberating across the fractured Earth. If You cannot live together peacefully and appreciate this exquisite gift, You can live alone on a piece to finally grasp that the whole is not greater in parts.
A cataclysmic electrical storm emanated from the planet’s core, shattering it into fragments. The explosion separated partners, ripped children from their parents, and disintegrated family pets where they stood. Of the seven billion survivors, each person received approximately 5.3 acres of Earth.
World peace disappeared from my vocabulary as the world itself was in pieces. And who do I speak to out loud when alone? Words spill into the void. I catch myself talking to the trees, thanking them for their shade. I murmur to the stream; I will understand its gurgling reply one day.
Words are as weightless as autumn leaves in the wind. I used to speak to share, be understood, connect, and inspire. Now, I speak only to fill the quiet and remind myself that I once belonged to something greater.
“Since they can no longer procreate, we will wait for them to die.” Mother Nature retorted. “We’ll stitch the planet together and give it to a species capable of seeing the beauty in each other’s differences—a species who understands the responsibility of Power and the bottomless pit that is Greed. That conflict does not have to end in destruction, and the planet can be fairly shared to preserve its vast resources for all who come after.”
I landed among the fortunate. My piece of Earth rotated the sun, held fertile soil, a freshwater stream filled with fish, and a small grove of trees. Others weren’t so lucky. Many ended up frozen on pieces of the poles. Some found themselves in barren deserts, wilted under the relentless sun, trapped on ragged mountain cliffs battered by ceaseless winds, or stranded in bogs.
Even more, forever submerged in saltwater graves, they were given ocean segments. Pieces are still finding their place, colliding with or drifting dangerously close to others, the sun, and even floating out of the galaxy.
I imagine my fortune isn’t accidental but based on my place in the world and how I treated people before and after the war started. My time alone is measured by memories of individuals, stories and laughter over drinks and dinner. And sometimes, I calculate and ruminate, although I prefer not to.
Eight billion and counting
5000 years
Humans war through 90 to 95% of it
I wonder, but there is no mystery
I speak of recorded history
4500 to 4750 years
Of conflict
Spanning
180 to 237 generations
Expecting a different outcome would be foolish
But I still wish. Although I know Humanity is ghoulish
With a predilection for Power and Greed, they devour
Unbeknownst, Nature watched and waited
Then … Obliterated
If I take my time, this story can go places.
I cannot say with certainty that I will continue, but that is to be expected.
Feature Image by M_wie_Moehre from Pixabay – the rest from DALL-E. Stats are from ChatGPT and Google AI.
© 2024 Samantha Williams. All Rights Reserved.
