As the sun rises over Karachi in the year 2125, it brings no promise of a new day, only another battle for survival. The air is thick with smog, so toxic that stepping outside without a mask is a death sentence. The once-thriving city, home to millions, now drowns in a mix of unbearable heat, water shortages, and crumbling infrastructure. But Karachi is not alone. Across Pakistan, the climate crisis has reshaped life into a grim existence where survival is a privilege, not a right.

The sea has taken what it was once denied. Karachi’s coastline is no more; entire neighborhoods have been swallowed by the Arabian Sea. Seawalls were built too late, and those who could not flee inland now live in makeshift floating slums, clinging to survival on rafts and boats. Disease is rampant. Cholera, dengue, and respiratory infections have become the norm, fueled by stagnant, polluted water and unbearable humidity.

Further north, Lahore suffocates under the weight of its own poisoned air. The heat is relentless, days of 55°C are common, and the night offers no relief. The once-lush gardens of the city are nothing but dust, and the air is thick with the stench of burning waste. Hospitals are overcrowded with heatstroke victims, but many never make it through the doors. The poorest die in their sleep, their bodies discovered in the morning, casualties of an unlivable world.

Islamabad, once a city of greenery, is now a concrete furnace. Margalla Hills are barren, stripped of trees that once kept the city cool. The Rawal Dam, once a lifeline, is reduced to a cracked pit of mud. Water is now more expensive than gold, and fights break out daily at rationing centers. Those who cannot afford clean drinking water must drink from contaminated sources, knowing full well it might kill them.

Pakistan’s once-fertile lands are now wastelands. The mighty Indus River, the backbone of the country’s agriculture, has withered away in many places, reduced to little more than a memory. The glacial sources in the north have melted at an uncontrollable rate, flooding entire villages before drying up completely. What remains of the Indus is a toxic trickle, poisoned by industrial waste, making it useless for irrigation or drinking.

Farmers who once grew wheat and rice now stare at barren fields, their hands empty, their children starving. The soil is too dry, the air too hot, and the monsoons too violent. Either the rains never come, or when they do, they drown everything in their path. Pakistan, once an agricultural powerhouse, is now entirely dependent on expensive, synthetic food imports that most people cannot afford. Starvation is rampant, and the weak perish first—the young, the old, the sick.

Food riots are common. Desperate crowds storm government warehouses in search of grains, only to be met with bullets. The black market thrives, where a single loaf of bread costs more than a day’s wages. Malnutrition is visible on every street, children with sunken eyes and protruding ribs, mothers too weak to produce milk for their babies.

The once-diverse landscapes of Pakistan are now wastelands of death. The northern forests have burned in uncontrollable wildfires, leaving behind blackened stumps and ashes. The deserts of Balochistan have expanded, swallowing entire villages under shifting dunes. Rivers and lakes have dried up, leaving behind cracked earth where water once flowed.

The wildlife that once thrived in these lands is gone. The snow leopards of the north, the Indus dolphins, the migratory birds of Sindh—all extinct. The only animals left are those that can survive in filth—rats, cockroaches, and scavengers that feed on human remains in the slums. The forests of Swat and Chitral, once lush and green, are now graveyards of dead trees, their skeletons standing as reminders of what was lost.

Entire regions of Pakistan are now uninhabitable. Sindh and Balochistan have become too hot to support human life, forcing millions to flee toward Punjab and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. But these places, too, are overwhelmed, their resources stretched thin, their lands barely livable.

The streets of major cities are filled with climate refugees, people who once had homes and livelihoods but now sleep in the gutters, waiting for a miracle that will never come. Borders have been closed, and those seeking to escape to safer countries are shot on sight. International aid is a thing of the past—every nation is drowning in its own crises, leaving Pakistan to fend for itself. Disease, hunger, and violence have become the only constants. The rule of law is fading, replaced by survival of the fittest.

The year 2125 has brought nothing but despair. There is no relief, no recovery, no escape. The sun, once a source of life, is now an executioner, burning everything in its path. The rain, once a blessing, is now a flood that drowns entire towns. The wind, once refreshing, now carries only the stench of decay.

Pakistan, a land of mountains, rivers, and valleys, has become a nation of dust, death, and despair. The warnings were there, the signs were clear, but humanity ignored them. And now, there is no future, only survival, for as long as one can endure.

Ubaid Sahil
He writer is a student, activist, and columnist. He can be reached at ubaidsa9@gmail.com