PROLOGUE – ASTER ARVAD, 2097

Birthdays are often a time for remembrance, for taking stock of one’s life and accomplishments. Today, in 2097, I’m 94 years old. And this year, according to astrophysicist Stephen Hawking’s prediction, is just 20 years from the time when humans will be extinct on Planet Earth.

It was 2022, when my sister Liz, my cousin Milo, and I worried that Hawking might be right. Our planet was overheating and overpopulating, there was a war in Europe, new technologies like artificial intelligence and genetic engineering threatened to have dangerous consequences, and the American democracy in a violent, post-truth world appeared to be in grave danger. The COVID-19 pandemic had recently robbed us of important life-changing events. I had sadly walked past the green lawn in front of my high school on the day of my cancelled graduation ceremony. And college for all three of us was taking place at home.

Then came the most horrible event of all. Liz, while working as an Emergency Medical Technician, was shot by an anti-vaccine lunatic who lured her to his house with a fake 911 call. The bullet penetrated her lung and for three days, while she was in a coma, we worried she might not survive. But Liz pulled through.

Her trauma was the trigger that fueled our anger and determination to take action. The three of us made a solemn promise that changed the course of our lives.

I remember the scene like it was yesterday. Liz had just come home from the hospital, and was resting on the big lounge chair in the sunroom. Milo and I were sitting at her side discussing the shooting and the other problems we faced.

Liz grabbed Milo’s hand and mine and said, “Our parents and grandparents have left us a totally dysfunctional world. It’s up to our Generation Z to save it. You guys are two of the smartest Zoomers I know. Let’s each try to do at least one thing to help save our species. I know it’s an impossible goal, but let’s figure out how to do something.”

At that moment, sunlight from the window streamed through a break in the clouds, lighting up our faces. It seemed like a portent. Milo, Liz, and I held hands tightly, peered into each other’s eyes, and nodded in agreement. It was a life-changing moment for us. The scene of the three of us holding hands, our faces lit by the sun, is a picture I’ve never forgotten.

That promise guided the story of our livesꟷwhich the three of us wrote downꟷas we accomplished some remarkable things. But I wonder now, during my remaining days, if it was enough. Did we do enough to ensure humanity’s survival?