In a world completely emerged in emotion, where the future and discoveries were frozen in time. Just this moment to deal with the ozone, humanity had crossed a line. We had to turn to the ocean, all of our walls starting to close in, but we pretended it was fine.
Now our oxygen levels are growing low, and all of our weaknesses were showing. Our fate left to A.I.
The conspiracies they heard in whispers, were merely fantasies sown by childish men. And the theories found in the shadows, did us no good to chase, cause today our options weigh thin.
The least of us left to suffocate on the world that burned above, while the privileged waited it out in aquatic tombs,
Building under the waters after the floods.
The final war wages as I take this one last dive. Before the bombs are released, to shoot the Aliens from the sky. They say it'll be 100 years before we can go outside again and I'm not sure whats left of humanity will recover after watching everyone they loved helplessly die.
Journal entry-> December 6, 2059
Everyone is adjusting as well as expected.
Alone in their sections, memories on reel with too much time for self reflection. The battle of trying to understand the failures of something omnipotent and omnipresent.
We try to hold together pieces of our ancestors but 25 years has gone by so unexpected, and there's whispers about a future under water without fuel, our fates sealed, it's predestined. It's like the Gods are laughing at us. It seems so cruel, like our evolution has been rejected.
75 years remain before we can touch Earth again. But the selfishness and consumption that lead to this moment, have stayed. In our brains, questions about existence, burn into our days. The perseverance of man can't be watered down to one lesson.
But this is the hell we built. This is our tomb where we sit in the purgatory of our mental filth. The way we cut and filled and drilled, buildings to enjoy our tech and food and pills. We watched screens until we could barely feel, until we didn't even know what was actually real.
And we sit, in wait. It's been silence for days. Just the soft whisper of waves. And this place has become an asylum.
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