Forsaken (P1 of 2)

In 2260, a trillion of us! But nobody I know is making a fuss. We're delighted to look at our children; not distressed. We are forsaken, but think we've been blessed. We are so concerned with ourselves; we're obsessed. So myopic, we haven't yet guessed, we're killing our world but nobody's confessed. Everyone argues, they know what's best. Get out of this hell that we got ourselves in? We're still in denial! We're not gonna win! The longer we live, the longer we live. Living too long means it's gotta give. From today, if you live 137 years, it will be mayhem; your very worst fears; I won't say 'em. The conditions will seem so very bizarre; 2.0 birthrate is all it requires. Mankind's a tragedy, that's what we are. Live on some other planet; maybe Mars? Gonna do that, breathe air from jars? A.I. the new god, or trips to the stars? Rely on all that, if you please. But if we don't relieve the squeeze on this earth, we don't know what any of that's worth. (Continued in P2)