I went out for a walk in the rain this morning, and had a nice conversation with the green people in the upper field of the cemetery. Tiny flowers were popping in yellow and white, the grasses had grown to my knee.
Three days of rain and thunder had made them all talkative, and they discarded their usual wit for a sharper tone. They said they were annoyed by the roar of the highway half a mile up. It kept the frogs from mating. They were in an pissy mood.
"As individuals," they said, "humans are fragile creatures. Easy to knock off with a virus or a smack on the head. But get you guys together as a buzzing hive and you are dangerous little things. Dangerous to yourselves and everybody else. You've got a wicked sting. You're maniacs, brainiacs, liars and thieves."
"Waxing poetic?" I said with a smirk, digging at the ground with the toe of my shoe. "I've heard all this before."
"You guys and your technology," they grumbled.
They were off and running. I rolled my eyes and barely avoided the puddle that ran along the tire tracks.
They said, "Humans will drown in their own shit."
They said, "You idiots, you excrete plastic."
They said, "Humans shit technology."
"You want to explain that?" I asked. I would have sat down on a cemetery stone, but everything was soaked, so I dawdled along, playing hide-and-seek with patches of bedstraw and ribwort while we talked.
"It's like this from our green perspective: First, humans eat oil, electricity, and other fuels until they become fat. Their fat is technology, an extension of themselves. They're obese with technology. It's making them sick. Then, they excrete plastic, chemical toxins, noise, pollutants, and ten thousand varieties of dead equipment. Old television sets. Cars. Computers. Factory robots. Lawn mowers. We're all drowning in it, but it's your shit, girlfriend. Not ours. No self-respecting bird would shit in its own nest the way humans do."
Ok. That's pretty clear.