Hi, John Green here with a cold open. So I wrote and recorded this review several weeks ago

before the global COVID-19 pandemic began closing schools, reshaping daily life, and

threatening the health and well-being of so many people. The always unpredictable future

now feels truly terrifying in its uncertainty, and I'm left feeling to borrow a line from

the poet Paige Lewis all stopped up with dread. So much has changed since I wrote this

review, and there are parts of it that I now find eerie and disconcerting. But so it

goes. Despite the ridiculously lofty name of the Anthropocene Reviewed, I've always wanted

the podcast to be what I think reviews always are, a kind of memoir, one person's experience

of the beauty and horror, and so reality of contemporary life. So I guess this episode

is about how it felt to imagine looking over the edge before I realized how close we always

are to the edge.

Amid this crisis, I see much to fear and lament, of course, but I also see humans working

together to share and distribute what we collectively learn, and I see people working together to

care for the sick and vulnerable. Even separated, we are together, and this is not the end of

us, not anywhere close.

One thing that hasn't changed since I wrote this review, I still believe in the human endeavor,

now more than ever, really.

Alright, here's the show.

Hello, and welcome to the Anthropocene Reviewed, a podcast where we reviewed different facets

of the Human-Centered Planet on a 5-star scale.

I'm John Green, and today I'll be reviewing the concept of humanity's temporal range.

When I was in college, my favorite phrase was eschatological anxiety. I liked the way it

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