We used to give Darwin the punchline when somebody kissed a live wire. Natural selection— from the comfortable side of the fire. A little joke: “stupid hurts” ‘Hot Coffee’ Can you believe it? Darwin laughed. Stella didn’t. Then the joke got a budget, a dashboard, a buyer. “Too many people,” over dinner. Someone tops the wine. The Deserving nod politely. Nobody gives up their place in line. Someone smart can count the numbers. Someone hard can move the chairs. Everyone loves a lifeboat while their name is on the list. Crisis needs a calm man. Crisis needs a hand. Once ‘Our Brand Is Crisis’, a slap becomes a plan. He hates making Hard Decisions. Hear the burden in his tone. They happen to the kind of people he has Risen to never become. The Future isn’t over. There’s still room inside. Terms & Conditions apply. Identity approved. Eligibility may change. The Saved will be notified. Please keep your details current. No one says “unfit” now. The portal keeps it sleek. Who’d call it a War on the Weak when everybody gets a login? Eugenics-by-proxy. No decree. No guilty hand. The System only answers: Ineligible. The Hard Men built the data centres. Every face. Every name. The Lists refresh at midnight. Every stranger stays in frame. A hundred children later— good thing the servers know their names. His Dynasty comes pre-approved: American Heirs, more children, more say. Her ballot? A century later— still under review. Scarcity found investors. Capacity came tiered. The shelter found a price point. The shortage found a yield. The ledger bears no malice. It only knows what clears. By morning, the curve looks lovely. All the awkward points are gone. Sixty-some years since Solemn Serious Men laughed at a ‘Silent Spring’. Lakebeds crack & temperatures cliiiiiiimb. There were Excuses. Now Experts need someone to make the Hard Decisions. Right? He has Risen far enough to mistake altitude for Grace. From up there, every waiting room is simply someone else’s place. A concrete bunker with a sea view, Paradise on the Albanian coast. Beautiful Shining People toast as the blast doors shut— never doubt they made The Cut. Louche NepoBaby, pedigree plush— scratch off the gilt: still just a douche. The Chosen have contingency. The Saved have somewhere dry. A Doomsday Code reads beautifully when Terms & Conditions apply. The future isn’t over. There’s still room inside. Terms & Conditions apply. Identity approved. Eligibility may change. The Saved will be notified. No further action is required. Identity approved. Eligibility may change. The Saved will be notified. Please keep your details current.
