The boy compressed time in a way only he knew how. He did as much as he could to live his life. Flying from Los Angeles to Tokyo to see the world. He ate cuisine that wouldn’t have been possible just two hundred years prior. He bought wares manufactured by dozens of hands from dozens of lands. The materials within contained rare metals and magnets dug from the depths of the land he stood on.
Hundreds of years ago he would have had to board a ship—risking his life—and sail the sea for months just to step on that very same soil.
Little did he know he was collapsing time and the course of humanity with every step he took. He felt as if he saved time and lived life by jamming these experiences through his body and mind. Unconsciously he crushed the resources and ability of the planet to contribute nourishment in the form of fuel. Whether it be in the form of gasoline or food.
In his lifetime the boy would not experience his own effects. Like the plane flying him to Tokyo, it only knew where it was going—not the wake it left behind.
The boy stole from the planet. He stole from future generations. Unintentionally of course, but stolen none the less.
Future generations lived a live of scarcity and confusion. A pure sense of wonder as to how civilization centuries past had built such massive structures. How they transported so many people to so many places. How they moved these gargantuan objects? How did they survive?
Their collapse seemed all but obvious.
They expect greater fuel than they consumed.
They collapsed their own time and expanded ours.