The Call of the Wild, 2208

Hey guys, you have to check out this brilliant satire by Hunter over at Daily Kos:

I wish I could fully describe the feeling, upon reaching the base of those final escalators to the outdoors. All around me, men and women were preparing themselves: checking their supplies, testing the wheels of their backpacks and going over checklists to ensure nothing was left to chance. Large signs warned anyone foolish enough to have forgotten that sunscreen would be necessary for the trip, and that no restaurants would be available from here on in: vending kiosks provided those essentials and others, such as backup sunglasses, lip balms, and the like.

After a quick but thorough check of my own, I set out. Stepping onto the escalator sent a thrill up my spine. Above me, at the other end of those silently moving steps, I could see daylight blazing—the literal "light at the end of the tunnel." I passed through the cool misters that provided a bit of additional sunscreen to each adventure-seeker, and before I could fully collect myself, a matter of a mere minute or so, I was in the dazzling brightness at the top. I stepped off, into the fully wild air, and took a quick survey of my surroundings.

I found myself on a wide plaza, open to the outdoors on all sides. The wild air was an astonishing thing. It was so hot that I felt every breath sear into my lungs: This was the true air of nature, unconditioned, viciously dry. The plaza was covered by a single large sunshade, a mere one inch or so of fabric between us and the direct rays of the sun. Around me, adventurers were huddled around misters that had been provided here and there around the plaza; below me, a large arrow pointed straight ahead, to the far end of the plaza, and the words To the Canyon were emblazoned below it in large metallic letters. I opened one of my granola bars and set off on foot. . . .