Bugs in the Fuel Line

Shit to diesel is in the works.  I think that’s neat and all, but what happens if two amorous bugs — or one scandalously licentious bug running from home with a bazillion eggs growing in her from her night of passion with Johnny, after he promised to pull out — escape?

Lots of waste in the world, which would mean, I imagine, lots of bugs, and soon lots of bug poo.

World-wide oil slicks.  Jungles would become tar pits.  Normal crops would die in the wasteland (heh) and humans would be reduced to eating the bugs that fueled the world, with the higher-class types and outlaws priveleged to dine on bug-fed humans for a treat.

What happens when some idiot throws a lit cigarette out the window?

Of course, this is all nonsense.  Bugs are easy to control, easy to contain, and if they were all that big a deal there’d be bugs everywhere.  We’re safe.  Let’s go play and not worry about it.

Anyone want to go to Jurassiac Park?

“Broadly speaking, the ability of the park to control the spread of life forms. Because the history of evolution is that life escapes all barriers. Life breaks free. Life expands to new territories. Painfully, perhaps even dangerously. But life finds a way.” Malcom shook his head. “I don’t mean to be philosophical, but there it is.”
Ian Malcolm – Third Iteration “Stegosaur” in Michael Crichton’s Jurassaic Park

Crossposted from Epinepherine & Sophistry

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