They will talk about us. They will say we dropped the ball. That we did not do our part. That we could not quit fighting and murdering. They will say we were not able to quit thinking about ourselves. That all the signs showed us we should be better stewards of Earth but we did not listen. That we wanted more room. That we wanted more things. They will say we defined ourselves by our property. Property we never owned. They will be cleaning up our mess. They will be burying our nuclear waste. They will be recycling our plastic toys and bottles.
They will think of us as primitive. Insects. Ants. They will wonder how we could be so naive. They will read our books and watch our movies and see such promise. They will listen to our music and hear such beauty. They will talk of us with wonder. So complex and yet so weak. So empathetic and yet so apathetic. Lectures will be given about a species so close to reaching awareness. So close to reaching its potential that there must be an inherit design flaw. Our DNA and genes will be examined. Researched but never repeated. They will read our history and be shocked. They will see the genocide and be mystified. They will read our stories of war. Of love. Of comedy. Such hate. Such passion.
Such laughter. Such polarity.
They will not be us, for we will all be dead. Many millions of years from now, THEY will continue on.