I was sitting around, minding my own business,



when I was suddenly transported to an expanse of snowy ice somewhere in the Arctic.

There I met Polar Bear Stu.



I must have looked scared out of my wits, because she shushed me and told me not to worry. She wasn't looking to harm me. She just had information to share needed someone who could show the rest of the world. She asked if I would help, and I, still dumbstruck, indicated my assent with a nod.

Polar Bear Stu explained to me that she once enjoyed miles and miles of snow-covered ice. She always had room, and food was abundant. Now, her territory is slowly shrinking.



What once could support a mom and twin cubs is now barely big enough for her. "Sadly," she remarked, "It's not like I'm getting laid, anyway."

Finally settling in a little, I asked her to show me around. To let me see something good in her life. She brought me to her favorite fishing hole.



While she retrieved lunch, I asked this well-traveled fish about what he'd been noticing:



"Well, it looks like we've got fewer species floating around, these days." He said the prognosis was grim for our finned friends all over.

After he and I wrapped up some gossip about krill, I set out in search of Polar Bear Stu again. After about 20 minutes with no success, I heard a large rumbling noise, followed by the moan of a frightened PBStu.

She had been stranded on a tiny ice floe which had broken off into the sea:



I helplessly watched her drift away, then I sat down and cried.