Humanity is probably on its way out, but it’s not in a terrible hurry about it. This isn’t the kind of apocalypse that is over quickly. No fire has rained from the skies to bring about the end of civilization, no massive tide of death has swept the world. This is death by the smallest of degrees. More than ever before, each life is irreplaceable and every human that dies for whatever reason is one less human that will ever be in the world again. It’s going to take a little while for the process to play out, but there is an air of inevitability to it at this point. Barring a miracle or a disaster, in forty years mankind will no longer be the dominant species on planet earth and in ninety mankind will largely be a memory. That’s if there is anyone left to remember.