On the plus-side, as a writer interested in dystopian fiction, I don’t have to make it up anymore. We as a species are repeating the pattern that has been part of the evolutionary cycle from the very beginnings of life on earth. We are overtaxing and despoiling our environment to the point where there will be a catastrophic collapse. Millions might die and the nasty, brutish, short realities of survival will reassert themselves in parts of the world where they have not been experienced by the majority of people in living memory.
On the downside, if you are among those who care about such things, it will be our children and grandchildren that pay the price of our profligacy, of our inability to rise to the occasion and break the grim reaper’s hold, of our greed and collective stupidity. Anyone in my age-bracket is likely to escape the awful fate we’re concocting; what we get to suffer instead is a cancerous tumor of guilt growing in our hearts.