Tidepool Decline,
or,
Death by a Thousand Shards
Dreamed 2019/8/10 by Wayan
A long beach with straight cliffs backing it. San Andreas Fault, I bet. Hear but can't see people on a trail atop the cliffs. The beach isn't all sandy--rocky shelves, tidepools in spots. A biology teacher shepherding a class tells me "It's not as rich as it was--not just human overharvesting but a literal Death of a Thousand Cuts--vandals throws bottles off the cliffs, they shatter on the rocks into a zillion sharp little shards." Wave action rolls and smooths the shards into sand and pebbles, within months, but malicious jerks are in such generous supply they contribute a thousand new razor-shards daily. The pools are hard to live in now--every step a cut.
I walk along the beach and find it's true. Up top, laughter. Bottles rain down. Half a dozen a minute! Many hit sand and don't break; but enough do to supply a thousand fresh knives to replace the ones Nature's patiently worn smooth.
Nonchemical poisoning! Not even for profit. For no reason at all.
Now these selfish jerks slowly killing off whole communities they don't even think about--not even malice, just spoiled-brat selfishness--seem to sum up the debacle of Covid-19 in America, where half the country not only can't be bothered to put on a mask to protect others more vulnerable than them, but spit on you just to be sure you catch it and die.
Bitter? Immuno-compromised moi?
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