When the last polar bear was shot in the suburbs of Edinburgh, when sand dunes swallowed Dakar and Cairo, and Lake Baikal was no more than a muddy puddle, the Earth began to shut down. There was no more wilderness to regenerate, wild animals were born sexless and dwindled. Disease and drought shrivelled roots and curled leaves. Doves and swans entwined in the wings of their mates slept and never woke again. When the last blackbird had finished his song, when he cocked his head and silence greeted the dying notes, he too put his head beneath his wing and slept a final sleep.

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