My mother used to tell me that it wasn't too late. She'd tell me bedtime stories that wailed about everything that was lost. She told me that our generation - the hapless sacks born into this godawful mess - could save it. She whispered the same lie that generation upon generation whispered to their children. With just a little more will, a little more technology, a little more gumption we'd see that salvation was at hand all along. We could lull the Daughters of Gaia back to sleep. We could succeed where every prior generation had failed. We could save humanity. Frankly? I'd rather not.