It seemed such a good idea at the time.
It was the brain child of a mad scientists, whose name has been lost to history. All names have been lost, along with most of the planet, but at least it smells fragrant.
Self-replicating tea.
Bound to have been a Brit that came up with that. It had been a rumour for years, but the story went that Big Beverage had bought the patent and suppressed it in order to maintain their stranglehold on the market.
One day though, it became a reality. Myth has it that a small band of dedicated activists broke into PG Tips and cracked their vault. In it they found two things. One was a note to buy more milk, and the other was the Infinity Tea Bag.
It was a thing of wonder.
Plop it into a mug or a pot, add water, and hey presto … Tea.
Not that different from a normal bag then, except that you could keep doing it, over and over again, with the same single bag … an infinitum.
Of course, it should have been left as a single bag.
No.
We got greedy.
We all wanted our own.
None of this sharing lark.
And we got what we wanted.
An endless supply of tea.
Something went wrong with the cloning process though. A glitch in the matrix. Some corrupt DNA. Or maybe inches where it should have been millimetres. Who knows?
Before we knew it, there were half a dozen broken Infinity Bags.
They didn’t just infuse the hot water, they replicated the hot water. And they couldn’t be stopped.
Soaked once, they just kept on making tea.
On and on.
The scolding tea floods wiped out Great Britain in a few short days. Then the Netherlands and Belgium were subsumed. Within months most of humanity had drowned in the Ty-Phoon. We were forced ever higher, until we sat atop mountains and stared out at the brewing ocean.
It might have been more bearable had we been able to face a nice cup of tea.
It might have all seemed a bit better.
