“I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.” - Albert Einstein (30 minutes of words) It was not a war in the classical sense. There were no armies and enemies, allies nor spies. It was a war where weapons were useless. Where a bomb would have no impact and a bullet would leave no wound. It was a war like none that had ever been faced before. There were, of course, similar choices to make: to flee or to fight.
The fight was not against a foe. The fight was for survival. Against the ravages of weather, of hunger, of death and disease. Eventually, against other survivors. It was a war with no battlefronts, for the battle was everywhere. There could be no front to something that had no end. But, of course, it did have an end. As it had a beginning. The Third World War began with the loss of the bees. Their extinction halted the reproduction of most of the world’s plant life. Without producers, without an input of energy into the ecosystem, food chains collapsed. Those at the top have the furthest to fall. The war, truly, was against the errors of the past. It was dealing with the consequences of greed and willful negligence. The issue with such an enemy is that it cannot be fought. It was a war in which the mechanism of destruction had been set upon an unstoppable path, action and consequence ticking over with the patience of inevitability. There was no abort switch. No failsafe or reset. To fight was to fail. Only very few could flee. Those that did felt unable to return once the war had ended. Once humanity had lost the battle that it had set upon itself. They had lost their collective right to reside on what remained of their planet after their eradication, and would seek a home elsewhere. But they watched, with faint hopes that something would arise from the ashes. Not humanity, but something else. Some other species would rise to the fore. Perhaps they would develop along humanoid lines, learn to make and use tools. To sharpen stick and sculpt stone. Maybe one day they’d develop organised groups, community, society. Then one day they would compete as their population grew to outstrip their resources. They’d splinter and grow. Spread. One day the tools that they’d created for harvest, for food, would be modified for other purposes. To hunt, and to fight. To the inescapable conflict. To battle and to war. Perhaps humanity had paved the way, dug a path so deep that any who followed along in their wake had no choice but to walk the same road. Perhaps not. Time would tell. They would wait and they would watch.
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. . Self care - 26.01.2022 (Poem) Perceptions of reality - 2.02.2022 (Poem) Natural impunity - 9.02.2022 (Short Story) Lost in a Labyrinth - 2.03.2022 (Poem) Ministerial Standard - 23.03.2022 (Poem) Dungeons and Dating - 6.04.2022 (Short Story) Better Shared - 20.04.2022 (Poem) Touch to toilet - 27.04.2022 (Poem) Shooting Stars - 4.05.2022 (Short Story) Chop Shop - 18.05.2022 (Poem) Family Ties - 25.05.2022 (Short Story) Age of Consent - 8.06.2022 (Poem) Legacy - 24.08.2022 (Poem) Performative Enjoyment - 7.09.2022 (Poem) Bridge of Dreams - 7.12.2022 (Poem) Faultless - 22.12.2022 (Poem) Disconservative - 11.01.2023 (Poem) Single use - 1.03.2023 (Poem) Donor Cards - 6.04.2023 (Poem) Creative Art Say I - 13.04.2023 (Poem) Home-bound - 5.07.2023 (Short Story) Sand and Sea - 20.07.2023 (Short Story) Luminosity - 15.11.2023 (Short Story) About the AuthorA 33 year old medical intern who plays frisbee and likes long walks over mountains. Archives
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