No matter if we win or not :

  • The "City" in the heart of London will one day be naught but rubble ...
  • ... as will the remains of all monarchies, be it palaces and castles
  • The war criminals will die, so will the tyrants, the slavers, the religious nutjobs, the capitalists. No matter how hard they try, their world will collapse, because it is not sustainable.
  • Capitalism will die as well, alongside fascism. An idea that is irrelevant and not thought about anymore simply fades away.
  • Neoliberals will watch their world die as their failure of an ideology dies with them, and they will most likely get to experience the slow end of civilization as their idols run off to their bunkers
  • Nature will heal, as it always did, and most of the polution we caused will go away with the centuries and millenias should we fail to save ourselves.
  • Even if the billionaires manage to survive and get into their bunkers, they will be imprisoned until they die in a golden jail. If they escape Earth to live on Mars or the Moon, their "Rapture" will collapse because it is fucking dumb and can't sustain itself. There is also a good chance for them to get murdered by their servants/slaves/guards, or to kill themselves once they realize the futility of their existence.
  • Ultimately , the most horrible, wicked, heinous things we did will be lost to time, nothing ultimately matters in the grand scheme of things, history is but a construction , and our civilization may be looked at the same way romans looked at the pyramids should mankind survive the 21st century, as a failed experiment and nothing more.
  • Nagarjuna [he/him]
    ·
    edit-2
    4 years ago

    I met a traveller from an antique land,

    Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

    Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,

    Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

    And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

    Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

    Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

    The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;

    And on the pedestal, these words appear: My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;

    Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

    Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare

    The lone and level sands stretch far away.”