“Yeah, you’re really sentimental.”

She ignored the barb. “Do you know what I studied in college? What my undergraduate degree was in?”

I shrugged.

“History. I was a history major.” She drummed her fingers on the desk. “Most people assume I had a science major or business management. Communications, maybe. But no. It was history.”

“Doesn’t seem like you.” I sat up on my bunk. “You don’t spend a lot of time looking backward.”

“I was eighteen years old and had no idea what to do with my life. I majored in history because I didn’t know what else to do.” She smirked. “Hard to imagine me like that, eh?”

“Yeah.”

She looked out the barred window toward the launchpad in the distance. “But I learned a lot. I actually liked it. People nowadays… they have no idea how good they have it. The past was unrelenting misery for most people. And the further back in time you go, the worse it was.”

She stood and meandered around the room. “For fifty thousand years, right up to the industrial revolution, human civilization was about one thing and one thing only: food. Every culture that existed put most of their time, energy, manpower, and resources into food. Hunting it, gathering it, farming it, ranching it, storing it, distributing it… it was all about food.

“Even the Roman Empire. Everyone knows about the emperors, the armies, and the conquests. But what the Romans really invented was a very efficient system of acquiring farmland and transportation of food and water.”

She walked to the other side of the room. “The industrial revolution mechanized agriculture. Since then, we’ve been able to focus our energies on other things. But that’s only been the last two hundred years. Before that, most people spent most of their lives directly dealing with food production.”

“Thanks for the history lesson,” I said. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’d like my last few moments on Earth to be a little more pleasant. So… you know… could you leave?”

She ignored me. “Leclerc’s Antarctica nukes bought us some time. But not much. And there’s only so many times we can dump chunks of Antarctica into the ocean before the direct problems of sea-level rise and ocean-biome death cause more problems than Astrophage. Remember what Leclerc told us: Half the global population will die.”

“I know,” I muttered.

“No, you don’t know,” she said. “Because it gets a lot worse.”

“Worse than half of humanity dying?”

“Of course,” she said. “Leclerc’s estimate assumes all the nations of the world work together to share resources and ration food. But do you think that will happen? Do you think the United States—the most powerful military force of all time—is going to sit idly by while half their population starves? How about China, a nation of 1.3 billion people that’s always on the verge of famines in the best of times? Do you think they’ll just leave their militarily weak neighbors alone?”