I hope they feel fear when we knock on their door.
It's a funny response to the end of the world to egg it on. It's funny to sell the world out for a quick buck and a place to hide. What use is humanity to a god? What use is a god to humanity? Tell me, what good are your billions now that the seas rise and take their bloody toll?
And we have to wonder what they do behind closed doors. Do they laugh, million dollar wine in hand, chuckling about all the poor rubes who would've chose to be born somewhere better, somewhere richer, somewhere whiter, if only they were a little smarter? Is it poor fortune or poor skill? It's easier for the winners to think they're smart than to face the devastating soul crushing truth.
But let the gates of civilization slam shut and the waves of the poor beat their fists against it as the monsters they released devour them. Let it be known that they made their choice. They chose their side. They built their houses of steels on islands and worlds desolate. They sit in orbit, in space, far from us and smugly laugh.
Because walls can block heat and dust, but so can masks and clothing. And the weather may seek destruction, but so too do we. And plants grow in the harshest terrain and so do we. We wash our hands in the blood of the fallen and water our gardens with our tears. Universal death isn't a constant, it's merely a tragedy. Humanity itself was never at risk, just so much life that to contemplate what was lost would surely drive anyone to madness.
But madness and survival go hand in hand and in desolate forms, we survive. Few and scattered, we survive. Angry as anything, we survive. We survive because we adapt. We survive.
They sit at the bottom of the shaft, cooled by technology as the sun bakes us alive. And our fists will slam on their door again and again until the ringing drills into their souls. Until it haunts their sleep the way the way the end of the world haunted ours before it happened. If we don't get this world, then neither do you. Blood for blood is dirty business, sure. But so is apocalypse business.
And when they come up for air all those centuries later, we'll be there waiting for them. And until that day, I'm going to load a gun and sit outside. When they peek out the window, I'll give a little wave and a wide smile. When they offer me money, I'll just laugh. And I'll knock on the door like the big bad wolf of old.
I hope they feel fear when we knock on their door.