What happens if you are the last (the very, very last) of your species and you die - and humans notice? We live at a time when extinctions are recorded, remembered, and the last animal (or plant) in its line, by virtue of its being last, becomes a kind of celebrity.
Its finality becomes a thing to honor. If it's an animal, its body can be stuffed, embalmed, and displayed for all to see. One would think that, as modern celebrities, the Last Ones would be celebrated, mourned, fussed over. But, curiously, that's not what happens.
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