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Standing alone on the roof, looking across the valley northward, watched a threatening storm approach, dark clouds billowing, lightning piercing the darkness striking an unknowable object. Darkness is always a forbearer of danger. Hopefully moving away, not south. Most of the roof’s residence had moved inside the building or within the safety of the campus proper, when space becomes available, still exposed, elbow-to-elbow in the Well. Like the planet, too many people, not enough livable space. A few, foolish, have remained on the roof, spending much of our time and energy strengthening our shelter. Reinforcing our haven. We have added a few members, including several from the Scout Team. My time is ending. I have become an albatross, a curse.
Our numbers remain the same as we add new members while old members vanish, or literally pass away. The newbies carry with them stories. They tell of innovators finding solutions but, such small scale outcomes, unable to scale-up, insignificant. Much of what is now broken, never fixable or, if fixable, will take generations. Once humanity sponged-out like chalk on a blackboard, ousted. Fossil fuels used. Glaciers melted. Natural resources mismanaged or consumed. Earth’s temperature, only two degrees higher. What harm could that cause? Earth’s population growth, only two percent. Ethnic superiority. Lawlessness. And, as always, predications of a second coming, the rapture, two-thousand five-hundred years in the making. Give or take.
I once told my students that the earth could only handle 3.5 million people. A point in time where inputs equaled outputs. Basic math. We used more than we could product. Now about eight million living in half the space. Sharing that space with wildlife, fewer bees, fewer birds, bears, fish, many species now extinct. Five periods of Mass Extinctions, periods defined by the loss of least 75 percent of species in the geological blink of an eye. Now eight million users. Mass Extinction number six, the first caused by humans.
Humans. Some collected amenities or built, for example, massive solar grids proudly displaying them, claiming in the future they could power thousands of homes. As the world crumbled, they acted more like barons, power brokers, hording their wealth, keeping all others at arm’s length unless they could ante up. Establishing mini empires with personal armies. Water, food from plants and animals, minerals, land, fossil fuel, the sun… or humans, subjugated by the few.
Standing on the roof, tagging along.
Gloom. Not across the valley, rather within. The Scout Teams travel about seeking anything of value. We take from the needy, giving to the needy. As we remember the lives we have taken for a cause, we have nightmares. We each have a bounty on our heads. Wondering who, from our past, will one day show up, facing the unknown, looking for revenge or vengeance for an act long forgotten. Some seeking to build their reputation while they collect a bounty. Everyone at the gate is unpredictable. Semi-safe. Those outside the gate, nameless, hostile.
And now, family members filled with hate for a presumed action built on lies using their authority to hunt me down while threating anyone affiliated with me.
The storm is approaching. The rumble of thunder clear. Lightning filling the valley, count seconds, divide by five representing a mile. Fifteen seconds three miles, five seconds one mile, zero seconds too damn close. If the hair on your arm or neck stands up, kiss your ass sayonara.
Understand this: storms take many forms.
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