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A Single Blade of Grass Was Left
A single blade of grass was left in the world.
Oh, there was the turf grass, synthetic grass, carpet grass, fake grass. Thousands of their processed blades covering the soil.
But there was only one real blade of grass.
One that had been raised from a seed, was genuine, green, and living. One that had sprouted, pushed through fertile soil, and reached towards the bright blue sky and the shining sun.
There was no blue sky anymore. Only grey smog and flashing lights projected onto it.
No one could see the sun. The world was forever blanketed in grey, depraved of vitamin D.
The single blade of grass is 100 years old today. Using their ever growing means of technology, scientists were able to freeze its growing process, keep it forever in time.
It stands in a small glass case, a square foot wide, kept in a special room where nothing can ever touch it or make it disappear.
Why do they keep it?
They can’t use it to reproduce to make fields or valleys. The environment no longer supports the needs of the little plant.
They can’t make money off of it.
They can’t use it to test if it could mutate with the human genome.
They can’t put it in a museum. The last museum closed 150 years ago. There was no public interest in those.
There is no reasonable use for it.
Debates spark today. It is costly to maintain this little piece of grass in a room where nobody can see it. It doesn’t gain any profit to pay back the costs.
“So why do we keep it?” are the cries that echo around. This money could fund technologies, feed families, create bigger, better things.
No one mentions the environment.
On this planet, it is likely not one person has ever seen real grass. It is likely not one person has basked in pure sunlight. It is likely not one person has stepped outside without a gas mask without suffocating immediately from the abundance of lethal chemicals in the air.
No one has seen flowers, or trees, or wild animals that haven’t been biologically tampered with to create strange species. That is, outside of their video games.
No one appreciates nature because they have never experienced nature.
I appreciate the little blade of grass.
It comes from a harsh time. Something pure and living and green in a world of processed and fake and tampered with. Something to remind us of a time that once was, that we can’t go back to now.
We’re too far gone.