“Why didn’t anybody DO something?”

Alas, you have found me! I have been desperate for company, dear Reader, and I am so glad you are here. I suppose this is a surprise for you, but we have much to discuss- and I will make it worth your while, I swear it.

The year is 2070. I am speaking to you- nay, pleading with you -from the pages of a small black book. I am bound in durable leather and buried under crumbled concrete. I assure you that this book was once very handsome; the pages bleached a stark white, the leather bindings stiff and well-oiled, and the ink beautifully vibrant across each page. Today, it, and I, choke on dirt and dust as we fade away in a prison of disintegration.

To understand (and forgive, I hope, dear Reader) this disheveled appearance, you must understand the extraordinary circumstances under which we came to be. I speak of perpetual fires, barren landscapes, flooded civilizations, and blistering heat. Oh, if only you could breathe the corrupted air that has stained these pages and burnt my lungs. You would understand at once.

I witnessed the snowballing, irreversible extinction of humankind… and humanity. The worst of people choked on greed and died lining their pockets, while the best became paralyzed by fear and grief. Some folks were misled from the reality of imminent mortality and became trapped in webs of denial.

The final verdict? All were guilty. All were complicit in feeding the horrible beast of entropy. And all paid the ultimate price for their transgressions.

This is not to say that no one warned of the consequences of these sins. The youth, acutely aware of the dismal future that awaited them, tried in vain to tap into the selfish, primitive brains we share to coax us towards the preservation of humankind.

Tragically, those most vulnerable to the trauma were unavailable to the message, already tied up on the throes of a final war: mass migration, disease, coups, storms, riots, and frankly, mass calamity of every sort.

As usual, the elite were too pre-occupied with thoughts of self-protection to lend an ear. Dear Reader, they turned dollar bills into bunkers on the backs of the vulnerable. I am guilty of being such an aristocrat. Look where it got me… buried in rubble, writing a frantic farewell, and cursed to die an agonizing death.

It is now that I invite you to slash open my cover and rip out the $20,000 I have left for you. Take it, it is yours now. Clearly, I have no use for it.

Are you still with me, dear Reader? Can you read my hasty scrawl as your eyes water in the heavy air? Are you nauseated and coughing from the inescapable fumes? Do you scratch at the insects that thrive here and plague you? Do your hands sweat under unbearable heat as you clutch the bills to your chest?

You are complicit, too. This is your price- to be condemned to the same fate as I.

Dear Reader, I will never forget the accusatory screams of the affluent once destruction landed on our doorstep. “Why didn’t anybody DO something?” Ah, these famous last words of mine… and perhaps yours, too.

Now, you are the elite. You have thousands of dollars to your name. And for what? Without universal, profound change, you are sentenced to a slow death alongside me.

P.S. Dear Reader, I do apologize. It appears that in my haste to speak with you I have smudged the ink in an egregious way. My original writing reflected the year as 2020, not 2070.

There is time, yet! Do not despair, dear Reader, the reset button remains available to you, if only for a short while. You have but 10 years on the clock to complete the largest disruption to modern history and prevent mass extinction by climate change. The odds are not in your favour, but at this precise moment, you still have a chance… and $20,000 to fund your efforts.

You have found yourself at the crossroads of a decisive moment in history. This is a rare opportunity to direct your fate. Will you take it, dear Reader?