Platypus heaven

In 1799 a stuffed platypus was sent to an English scientist. A mammal with webbed feet and a duck’s bill? Such a thing cannot be possible. Dissection followed, the scientist searching for telltale stitches. If I were stitching together a platypus heaven, I’d start with the Sahara, now gloriously golf course greened, lavish storehouse for continents. I’d move on to slumless Calcutta, watch her children play without care, her men give an honest day’s work in return for a day’s justice and dignity. I’d recreate countless lost species of animal. Whales would spout water, splash flukes with impunity. The dodo would no longer be food for a cliché. I’d make every man a hero, every little girl a beautiful princess. I’d add one last thing. A museum of relics (lest we forget): an assault rifle, a hospice bed, a divorce certificate... I’m beginning to see why it’s so hard to believe.