From whom among the worldly scrum will Earth’s brighter future come? Who’ll point a twitching finger to a skyline of a sickly hue and before our future’s gone, transform it from its dull and wan pallor to a richer hue? What newer race will then renew as their fathers failed to do? Who forms these saviors of the world? In what infant brain lies curled the savior of the human race?
Or will we vanish without a trace?