Entering American customs is a game of chance. The officers hone in on seemingly arbitrary factors: fidgeting, nervousness, hypervigilance. Yet, warned about the risks of failing to pass immigration, aren’t we all nervous?
Most predictions are contingents: over a hundred species will go extinct tomorrow; Mexico City will run out of water in the next decade; I will witness climate collapse within my lifetime. All statements about the future, neither inevitable nor impossible.
Slowly, her hum has started to dull and although sometimes the bleating anxiety she inflicts causes me to fall at her hands, I realize her power is waning.