“We are suffocating nature. Every day on our exhausted planet another species becomes extinct. Inevitably, it will be us.”
The P.M. paused – his attention drawn by the hooded figures draped in rags hovering like abandoned scarecrows in the shadow at the side of the road.
“For the first time in history there is no future – we could all die at any time, just with the push of a button.”
Pierre remained silent, wondering how far this would go.
“History tells us that this will probably happen one day. And we know that if and when it does millions, perhaps even billions of people will die the worst death imaginable. The great folly of humanity is that this would come as no great surprise to anyone! We are so accustomed to living under the constant threat of annihilation we’ve become immune to it. When this inevitably happens all we will share is the knowledge that we could have and should have done more to save our planet. No matter who survived, the collective conscience of humanity would be soiled forever. At best, we could limp on as a failed race – “humanity” – entirely lacking humanity.”
The P.M. was enjoying the freedom of not having an audience.
“People have allowed themselves to be lulled into the belief that no leader would ever be silly enough to do it. They don’t understand that even certain death is no deterrent to the truly deluded. But still, people invest their faith in politics. They have no interest in God. God is far too remote for most people.”
“You won’t be saying that I don’t think,” Pierre said quietly.
“Well what am I supposed to say?”
“Don’t worry,” Pierre said with a smile. “When the time comes, the words will flow naturally – as they always have for you.”
Max lay on the bed, exhausted.
It had reached that time again – he could feel the wall of life collapsing in on him – something had to give.
But it was Rita who spoke first.
“Really, why won’t you come to London with me?”
Max had no interest in going through all that again -
“I’ve told you, I can’t.”
“You haven’t told me much at all!”