Dustin Marmalich
Stories (1/0)
Plastic
He was walking along the Atlantic coast one evening. The weather was fair, as it always is now, never changing. He spends his evenings scouring the coast for small pieces of plastic. How hilarious it is, he thought to himself, that just 200 years ago people discarded plastic waste as if it had no value. If they only knew then that they were holding a substance so valuable it would become the dominant form of future currency. There’s only one way to make plastic, and that’s oil, and oil has been gone since before my time. They wasted it all literally lighting it on fire. If they only know burning it was the most inefficient way possible to utilize the energy contained within. These days a plastic bottle cap is a wage for a day, a whole bottle, a week. It’s the energy inside that matters, ha, matter, a pun. Like ambergris and seaglass of old, the beach has become the stomping grounds of treasure hunters, hoping to capitalize on the carelessness of the last 10 generations.
By Dustin Marmalich3 years ago in Fiction