We are the whispers. The particles that make you sneeze on the wind. We are the little people. Forgotten, but not. Unimportant, but not. We have broken our backs to become who we are. We are the life blood of the world, but we are left in the dust as the rich and powerful steam ahead. This no longer a discussion of evolution, but a discussion of how we can be remembered. [spoiler]We must fight back. I suggest a revolution.[/spoiler]