Civ 5

It all went so smoothly at first. A little freon in the lock and a light tap it was broken and we were in the apartment. The alarm was unsophisticated. We barely noticed. In the dark, we scanned the walls for our prize. How could you miss those two small canvases, so unique, so special?

Instantly we had them in our bags, safely wrapped in protective plastic, and we were out the door and flying down the steps; the elevators had cameras. With a quick call from a cell phone, a distraction was arranged for the concierge and we slipped out into the Paris night. The Eiffel Tower was alight as usual, fed by coal or nuclear reactors miles away. We used to barely contemplate where our power came from. Like the alarm, we barely noticed.

Don't listen when they tell you that crime doesn't pay. It does. Ask the CIA drug runners propping up the American economy. Ask the traffickers that bring African women to Europe to work in violent brothels. Ask the CEOs who subtly alter a few lines in a ledger and reap a million dollar windfall. Crime pays.

And with the Picassos under my arm, I thought I had joined this exclusive club. Months of planning had netted me $66 million in stolen art. I was rich; well I was already rich but now I was richer. I could do anything now; nothing could stop me from achieving my wildest dreams.

I just had to sit on the art for a while before moving them out of the country. God bless the EU and its porous borders. In the east, I would find a buyer capable of smuggling the art out of the community and on to a private collector in the Middle East. It had all been arranged.

Once home, having paid off my accomplices and sworn them to secrecy, I put down the art in my office and took a quick shower. Even if they were caught, they didn't know me from Adam; I liked it that way. You might have expected me to gaze at the precious art now in my possession. The truth is that I don't care much for Picasso or, for that matter, art. Maybe that's what makes me a good thief. Ultimately I know what my buyers want and provide it impartially. If you can pay that's all that matters to me. I'm a businessman not a critic.

I turned on my television to relax with a coffee as the sun came up. On every station flashed the news: China's booming economy has crashed. And the rest of the world is being pulled down with it. Markets in Sydney, Tokyo, Seoul and beyond were falling like dominoes as the sun came up in the east.

What was happening? Our holy economy pierced like Christ on the cross. Before there had always been a resurrection, a recovery. This time something was different and you could tell in the creaky voices of the "experts".

Economists were accused of ignoring nature in the pursuit of endless profit. Didn't they know that humans are just another animal and wholly dependent on the world. What arrogance! Ignoring climate change was only one manifestation of this destructive attitude.

Politicians were accused of failing to act on the oil peak. The world had been through other oil peaks in the past but this was the final global peak. There were no new fields to save us, no foreign dictators to throw open the oil valves.

The military was criticized for being a bottomless pit for our civilization's wealth. The half a trillion dollars spent on military pursuits annually by one nation alone was reprehensible. Outrageous! Why spend our precious wealth on nuclear weapons which only offer the promise of total annihilation? Surely there were more productive options available.

Hours passed for me in front of that television. All the pundits had taken too long to speak out. Had we acted earlier, we might have stood a chance. If only we had disbanded our militaries and moved away from polluting industries and power toward renewable sources. Most importantly If only we had learned to live simply and happily together in communities. Ipods, microwaved meals and Picasso prints, do not a good life make.

Instead we drove into everyone, every single human being, the right to take, take, take. This was our earth. Our resources. Our trees. Our air. Our climate. Our oil. We could never go back from this. It was a psychopathic attitude with only one possible conclusion: crash and collapse.

So now weeks later, I still sit in my apartment. It's winter. I'm cold. I've burned all my books to keep warm. I have food but I'm not sure for how much longer. Spring is my only salvation. The earth giving back after the dead times.

So what else could I do? I threw the stolen Picassos on the fire; $66 million up in smoke for a moment of warmth. I had tried to trade them for wood. No one was buying. The concept of value had changed almost overnight.

But I still say that crime pays. I must believe that. You know what I mean.