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*Editor’s note: the below is fiction. It’s not real. But it’s true. Life is but a dream. May it be of benefit! Contribute your fiction here: elephantjournal.com/post

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Author’s Note: This descriptive essay explores the thoughts of an individual living in a dystopian world (once New York) post-climate disasters and wars created by man’s greed, and inequality creating a divided society. The tone of this essay is jaded and hopeless—a reflection of its setting. This piece is to be read as a descriptive social commentary on our future.

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The Dawn Of Dystopia

KABOOM!

A crashing noise bursts through my ear. I spring up off the bed, my feet hitting the cold hard floor of the cave. Looking out of the cave entrance, the sight before me forms in a blur. I step outside, taking in the cataclysmic panorama. The world that I had known, and the world that now stands before me are in complete contrast.

Once upon a time, Earth used to be a flourishing ecosystem—brimming with the symbiotic lifestyles of nature and man. Then came greed, corruption, and the idea that man was the ultimate predator, leading to catastrophic climate events, war, and destruction. What used to be the prosperous urban jungle of New York is now reduced to low-rise slums surrounding a gigantic titanium wall. Inside The Wall sat— in stark contrast to its outside—a utopia where money acquired by inequality and greed kept The Bourgeoise safe.

The thrashing noise brings me back to reality as something ricochets off a surface. I look in the near distance to catch the one stupendous skyscraper outside The Wall came crashing down. It had a hole the size of a volcanic crater through the middle! The ruinous landscape was astounding. The debris starts to fall until the building is a speck of dust. All I can do is watch, petrified. Of course The Bourgeoisie would bomb the one symbol of progress made by the populace; their power would be questioned if the building remained. I leaned faintly to the right, disconcerted. Bright, glowing streaks of red and purple decorated the black, starless sky. They remind me of the northern lights…so much more colorful and alive…now only a memory of the past. Well, we can’t undo the things that we have done. I take two deep breaths in, straighten my posture, and retreat inside.

Closing my eyes, I sit cross-legged on the cold floor. I barely have a chance to calm my breathing when another explosion hits—KABOOM!—rattling everything like an earthquake. I hurry outside, my eyes scanning for where the deafening sound had originated. It didn’t take me long, as the firing continued to slam the poor localities just below the hill of the cave. The once cramped neighborhood, filth-filled alleyways smelling of rotting and decaying flesh and organic matter were reduced to a pile of burning rubble in minutes. The fire lapped up concrete, wood, and flesh into its raging inferno. Firepower rained down on helpless targets, like a falcon diving down for its prey, as people screamed and shoved each other to flee. As unjust as it was of The Bourgeoisie to do this—sitting behind The Wall in a secure estate—this is the new sad reality of our planet. The divide between the rich and poor needs to be maintained for the rich; it is what destroyed our ecosystem, and soon it will destroy our society. There shouldn’t be this much hatred and discrimination between people. Sadly, “we can’t undo the things that we have already done.”

Resigned, I turn back to the gleaming cave that I now call home, reflecting. On how we disrupted the lives of peaceful living beings because of our wants, turning our planet into a living hell. I sigh deeply, knowing that this tragedy will not simply fade. It will remain until our existence is wiped off this planet. From my vantage point atop the hill, I look out into the distance where a white and golden mansion the size of the United States Senate stands inside The Wall estate, overlooking the destruction. While the privileged feasted worriless, the less privileged rummaged for remnants of their life in the rubble created by the former. As the rich destroyed our barely standing planet for profit, the Earth revolted onto the poor who couldn’t protect themselves. This was once our future but is now our present.

Shaking my head, I walk back into my cave and seal it shut, looking inside. Perfectly thriving with a small ecosystem of its own, ivy decorates the walls, with plants hanging in the circular room, a gentle stream flowing in the corner. In the initial days of living here, I added remnants of lives past to create this sanctuary. Now as I look around at the photos of our former planet hanging from the ivy—I take a moment to revel in what could have been, as dawn sets over the dystopia outside.

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