Congratulations on Disappointing Your Children!

When you arrive on the virgin continent with arms around your children, they'll look up at you and say:

"Daddy..."

You'll down at the, beaming affection.

"Is this where you meant to come?"

You'll look out across the Pacific Gyre, whose morass of plastic bags will have grown so thickly matted that they form a physical substrate, and you'll smile.

"Yes."

You children will look at the ground.  The younger one, the girl, whose name you can't recall, will begin weeping.  It will be a good long while before your son speaks.

"Oh," he'll say, before falling silent again.

Congratulations on Disappointing Your Children!