37

James Lovelock pads deep into the mansion.  The ancient hardwood floor emits tortured creaks and groans.  Suddenly James Lovelock spins and asks “Have you seen the latest report from the UN’s Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change?” with a ghoulish grin.

You either nod yes or you shake your head no.  James Lovelock doesn’t care.  He shows you the report anyway.

“Look at this graph,” he says.  “We have to cut our greenhouse gas emissions to net zero by 2040 or we will face drought, food shortages and ever more extreme hurricanes and typhoons!  Not to mention the wars and mass migrations.”

“How is that even possible?” he continues.  “Think of all the grotesque SUV-driving, beef-gobbling fossil fuel zombies around you.  They have a hunger that cannot be cured!”

James Lovelock cackles maniacally and then begins coughing and sputtering just like every villain in every horror-comedy ever.

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If you say, “It’s like water off my back, nothing can slow my voracious consumption habits,” turn to page 14.

If you say, “Okay, I’m kind of freaking out now, is there any good news?” turn to page 15.