The monkey’s paw curls.
By July, the southeastern United States is battered by storm after storm. The Gulf Coast and much of Florida are devastated, with levees failing, cities flooding, and millions displaced. The media dubs it “The Year of the Tempest.”
With much of the southeastern U.S. uninhabitable, millions of displaced people flee their homes to other states. Entire communities pack what little they can carry and flee inland. Many seek refuge in neighboring states, but the sheer volume of displaced people overwhelms resources. The refugees keep moving, spreading across the country, heading as far as California and the Midwest.
At first, they are met with compassion. Towns open their doors, offering shelters and supplies. But the strain is enormous. Schools overflow, hospitals run out of beds, and housing markets skyrocket.
The social fabric begins to tear. The newcomers carry with them not just their belongings, but their political and cultural beliefs. Many are deeply conservative, opposed to the progressive policies in the states that take them in. School boards clash over curriculum changes. Gun laws, environmental regulations, and LGBTQ+ rights become battlegrounds in communities that had once considered these issues settled.
What starts as a humanitarian crisis quickly becomes a cultural and political one.
By the end of the year, the consequences of the wish are undeniable. Many states see their progressive majorities evaporate. Refugees from the southeastern U.S., driven by desperation and fear, vote in droves to undo the policies of their host states. Climate action bills are tabled as state legislatures pivot to immigration control and oil subsidy.
Meanwhile, the southeastern states, still battered and uninhabitable, become a no-man’s-land, a haunting reminder of the devastation. The hurricanes force millions to leave, but the political ideologies that resist change endure, spreading like a second storm across the country.
The people who who domesticated garlic were not killed by vampires, yes?