Andrei stared down at the scarred wooden table, letting out a long, slow sigh. "Our whole civilization can be likened to a huge, gas-guzzling car, metaphorically. But also… unfortunately, literally."

"Yep," Soo agreed, nodding in quiet, grim solidarity. Her eyes tracked the dust motes dancing in the afternoon light. "But such excessive consumption won't last. Physics demands payback. Thermodynamics keeps score."

Ellesha leaned forward, elbows anchoring to the table, chin resting in her elegant palms. Her expression remained detached—the calm eye of an approaching storm. "In some way or other, humans have always been at the edge of disaster," she mused calmly. "I'm tempted to say we invite disasters. We manufacture our own endings. Most of us possess sufficient cunning to scheme, enough greed to consume, and egotism to destroy—but rarely enough foresight, empathy, and self-control to escape the traps we'build."

"Ugh! This talk depresses me," Jules whined, throwing his hands up in a gesture of mild defeat. He pushed back his chair, looking around the table uneasily. "I need a beer. Can't we talk about something 'fun' for a change? Thinking about the world's problems is too depressing!"

Philyra didn't even glance his way, ignoring Jules as she kept her focus locked on the center of the table. "We've got to rise above our narrow egos and do what is good for the planet!" she insisted before dropping into a flat note of resignation. "However, nothing we say will make any difference. Not anymore. We've passed a threshold, a point of no return." Silence stretched between them like cracked pavement.