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224 pages, Paperback
First published June 2, 2020
No one who survived could really say whether it was a single big catastrophe, or a series of smaller messes, or if it was just the slow grind of excess. Probably it was all of that. Maybe Russia dropped a bomb on San Francisco. Maybe it didn't. Maybe the Nile became poisoned. Maybe it didn't. Maybe the last of the ice caps turned yellow. Maybe they didn't. Maybe Vitamin C turned out to be carcinogenic. Maybe it didn't. Governments of all brands, the UN, the anti-UN, the World Bank, FIFA all spoke loud and long about what needed to happen, but by then no one could tell information from lies.
The details hardly matter now. The earth, pushed past its limits, began to eat its own. Most of the eight billion victims died over a period of a few months. Quickly, slowly: these things are relative. Living another day, and another, depended on who you were and where you were. (p.1)