The sun pulls the earth closer in our galactic orbit by a few meters every hundred years.
The maths of man is abstractly perfect, it is nice and near and safely contained in the minds of mankind. But in the physical universe there is no perfect circle, there is no perpetual orbit of one staelight around a cluster of starts. The universe is an organism, not an algorithm.
The sun draws us a fraction closer to its almost infinte inferno, and eventually millions of years from now our sea will boil, the sky will be steam and life on earth will stew as the oceans evaporate, the life will be over, and earth will be an electric sauna hovering over a landscape that is melting mountains into a rise tide of magma, and then earth will be a molten liquid again, and ready to assimulate the sun, to return to it's womb. Then perhaps after another trillion years the start will neeze and ejaculate another drop of magma just far enough from the reach of its gravitational pull, and perhaps it will mutate into another earth, another cooling sun, andother atomic system that will cool and condenstate violent gasses into another atmosphere, andanother opportunity will present itself to the next carbom life form, and perhaps they will figure out a way to escape the eventual radius of return orbit, or perhaps this is the last opportunity, perhaps this is it, perhaps the human is the last hope of insatiable opportunity to polute the solar system..
The same stew as the one when it all began. Carbon life will be done. But that is not dead which doth eternal lie, for in strange eons eons even death may die.
Each year, earth is creeping toward the center of the sun,a an each year on its own axis it wobbles as it osilates, like a spinning top reaching the end of its spin the previously perfect perpendicular axis diverges from its apex, and the pole spirals wider and wider until the pole itself is at the latitude of the spin, and the centrifugal forces pitch the spindle over. The planet earth is exactly the same, and as time passes by the north and south poles father from their original magnetic registers.
The vain detached mammal of man hardly notices where the prehistoric expressions of life, like the old whales and migrating birds and salmon suddenly wash up on the shore of a land mass that has not moves on the surface of the planet, the continents are still pointing in the right direction but unser the skin of the world, below the soil, below the rock the boiling, magma core has shifted, and with it goes the magnetic poles. and the compass once stead fast, the compass once faithful the nagivators. And so the trust and peace of the planet is once again starting to redecorate. and the redecoration will be violent, and purging and nothing will prevent it or survive it.
at this point however there is still hope.
the magnetic pole has offset by 3 degrees, and the previously frozen planet as thawed again, and as a species we are galactically mobile. But the thing that upsets us the most is the change. The cenruies of stagnation are over, and even change itself is subject to change.
With every antient culture there is somewhere in its history a flood story, and circumastance where the gods enrages and washed the plaent, with ferocious tides and battalions of waves that break in anger, and smash and sink and drown castles made of sand, crumble to the sea eventualy.
The just people survive, the chosen ones escape and they are delivered from evil, wile the bad people, are smot. the sinners purged and so civilisation begin again.
But all great floods that become catostrophic laundering of mankind bigin with rain. Gentle rain, season showers sporadic monsoons. At first. Then the dissel extends from weeks to months, then longer. The furtile places, the plateaus of argitulture that once tirsted for rain turn to swamps. Crops drown, trees choke and mushrooms panic, surfacing everywhere, emergin in emergency, hoping, knowing that there only hope is for their spawn to be carried to drier lands, knowing that the world is drowning, knowing that water is worse tan heat.
And the world has much more water than ever before, it has all the water in the sea, massive clouds of planctin bloom beneth the surface and impregnate the brine with microscopic life, the like seen just before the great cataclisms, the extinctions affect the fish that let the water, the animals that crawled away, they will die, where the gilled and finned will drive deep and survive and they are the gardians of the percious formula for life. And they will reboot the planet again, and again, they are our absolute everything.
Above the sea the air is hot, and sky is long. and like a roast on a spit the heat agitates the water, accelerates the moecules and the evaporate into humid and sticky air, and more and more moisture rises and ascends into the heavens and cool and collude high above the world and gather into clods that extend for kilometers, and huge hot bubles of dir eddy and harrase the dense mists and the contrast in temperature cause these gentle white clouds to turn, and dance in rings and circles and interlocking there moist elbows they twist and spin and twist and spin, and bind like thread into a whirrling tail, big and broad a the top but tight and sharpe at its tail, al the while more and more water has condensed into purple laden thunder clouds, the sand captured with in the trillions and trillions o water drops rub against each other, faster and faster and static gathers, like fine sugar in a candy floss drum, and the at some point the water is too heavy to hold aloft. The water drops have joined to other drops and the mist is water being battered and bullied by strong ascending gusts of wind, spiralling and whirlling tormented and electrict and charged with megatonnes of electric power, high voltage the stail dips from the sky and tentatively touches the sea like a swimer tests the temperature only to with draw their foot, and repeates the toucing and withdrawing, and with each touch tonnes of water are slurrped up and into the funnel, and accelerated into the electified turbine column, and the storm is born. The metioric system is online and off shore. It is instatiable, and desperate to balance the chaos, desperate to disipate and calm.
The melting of the ice caps adjusted the climate in two ways. obviously the increase in temperature accelerated the meltdown, but the meltdown was accompanied by arbitarty tidal wave events. Events caused by very large land masses, previously suspended and wedged by glassiers suddenly slipped and crashed into the sea, and the splash of the butterfly rippled accross the world.
The south pacific islands submerged forever. Japan desperately raised dikes, where holland prepared cities for stilts and scafolded rigs. And venise vanished by another 10 meters.
So the water levels rose slightly, then voilece followed, then the remaineder melted peacefully.
and one decade before the end of foscil fuel.
Antactica transitioned from a scientic community into a tourist attraction, thanks to the suspected discovery of Atlantis, which vanished but for it's reputation, the ledgeds and folke law and mystic tales. The slow moving facts of the matter has it that Originally the Island was much father north west, but the magnetic flipp causes sudden slip of the skin of the planet, and poor old Atlantis got a raw deal, it ended up at the south pole, and then the sky was dusted by thick clouds of volcanic ash and sun was shuttered and
and then became a no-go-zone when some dorment spores from the begining of time infected some holiday makers. As with all new contagens it went undetected until the spore had reached Singapore, and then it jumped around the globe.
The ancient micelium was born into a much more aggressive world, and had a much less tolerant attitude to other lifeforms. The ferns and forests frozen for milenia thawed and relaxed and metabolised the centuries go by. Then it did what any life form would do after a very long sleep, it fed and bred.
Still alienated from the other contents, thanks to the gondwana land drift the prehistoric micelium would never have mutated, but thanks to an eager property developer who started a project to aurgment atlantis.
deleted from [070-home-sweat-home] Ever since Antarctica emerged from the ice blanket the world had become very wet.
But recently wet wasnt descriiptive enough to convey how wet. In the times gone past the wealthy would fight for sea line properties, vanity morgues, million dollar toys mariend in cosy maritin resorts. It all seems so stupid now. The coin flipped, once wet was where you wanted to be, wet was the place to holidsay, to solize to mate and play. The rich owned the cosat line. The beaches, the yaghts. No longer.
Those vain villas are now moldy water logged ghettos. Most of them just melted into the water, the quickly made resots where literall swallowed into the floor.
There are some that still stand, and they are mostl adandoned, and the disenfranchised took them over, and liive in sea scrapers, that is what they call them, these stalicmites that poke out of the sea at high tide, and at low tide they are blemished with sea wreckaged houses. Debris and theme parks and transit stations, all poke ther top most tips out at low tide.
The barancled and pokmarked fascards, and derilict and rusting snared fences, and kelped railings and slimey poles protrude. All sorry and concured.
All rivers widen with water. All rive cities suffer. Venice vanished for the same reason Atlantis vanished thousands of years before.
no matter how much ice there is, no matter hom many the surface was covered the fact that the sea water temperatre is not below zero, that little fact which was overlooked, that fact means that ice that touches that water will warm, it will warm and it will melt. ICE is the forgiener. That is the unfortunate truth. High ice on the other hand does not touch the sea, high ice will stay solid. Moutain tips and white peaks are literally staganted clouds. Frozen cluds that stick to rocks. They are water vapur that varnishes the finder tips of mountains.