Snow brushes against the window of my apartment. The flakes skirt around momentarily on the small patio before piling against the sliding glass door. It's winter, after all.
2020, this year I turn 25. I'm supposed to be well into my prime, the best years of my life before I descend into the trough of my 40s. Envelopes are scattered across my two person dining table, reminding me the government turning cogs behind the walls of my home. I reread a letter labelled declaring my personal income tax, briefly I reminisce about years past, days of my childhood, the summers I spent craned in front of a monitor, fearing the day I would have to get out in the world. When a litre of gasoline could be bought for a dollar, and we weren't constantly being assaulted by the media "scientists", offering us visions of utopia. Perhaps I should save my pessimism for later, for what is there better to complain about then the present.
Biochemical Engineer, when did I even discover this was it's own job? I'm still entry-level of course, running a few modifications of tissue engineering experiments. Around a year ago genetically engineered food really started getting attention, apparently we're on the leading edge of this. Leading edge, I say. It'll take another 5 years at least before any real applications start moving.
Ten years. Ten years ago I sat at my computer, writing about how I could change the world. Today, I'm just trying to fit into the world. Ten years ago, the future seemed bright, exciting. And certainly, it is. The computer sitting on my desk has more than a hundred parallel processors in it, my vehicle is purely electric, progress is being made every day. But every year, the arctic melts enough to carry massive cargo trips straight over Canada. Who knows how many species have been lost at this point.
The cogs of sustainability are turning. But even now, the engine is coal fired.
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