In a world where the apocalypse comes not with a bang but a slow, crackling creep, one woman has decided that if the world is going to burn, she will at least die in a structure that passes building codes. Meet Gertrude Honeysuckle, 67, a retired florist from the smouldering remains of Paradise, California. Gertrude watched her town turn to ash last summer and now she is building fire-proof bunkers for the elite of society who would rather not meet their maker in a puddle of melted Birkenstocks.
"It was like watching a giant, orange badger consume everything I loved," she told me, her eyes still holding the flicker of that day. "I lost my begonias, my collection of commemorative spoons, and three cats. I decided then that if I cannot save my begonias, I will save the rich."
Gertrude's enterprise, 'Phoenix Down Under', specialises in subterranean shelters that promise to withstand not just fire but also the coming flood, the plague of locusts, and the inevitable rise of the Racoontocracy. For a cool half a million pounds, you too can have a concrete womb in which to gestate the next generation of, presumably, better people.
"We line the walls with asbestos and cover them in a fresh coat of existential dread," she explained. "But it is the air filtration system that is the real pièce de résistance. It filters out not just smoke but also the stench of government incompetence."
Critics have pointed out that building a fire-proof bunker in a fire-prone area is akin to buying a waterproof hat for a swimming trip: a little optimistic. But Gertrude is undeterred. "The rich need to survive so they can continue to make the poor feel bad about their life choices. It is the circle of life."
Her latest project is a 5,000-square-foot underground palace complete with a wine cellar, a selection of pre-recorded TED Talks, and a panic room made entirely of panic. "The panic room is my favourite," she admits. "When the world above becomes too much, you can go in there and scream until your throat goes raw. It is cathartic."
But not everyone is laughing. Environmentalists are concerned that these bunkers are nothing more than high-priced tombs. "They are just kicking the can down the road," said Dr. Algernon Poot, a climate scientist. "Or rather, kicking the can into a hole in the ground. And that can is made of tantrum."
Gertrude scoffs at the pessimism. "Oh, they said the same thing about taking a cruise on the Titanic. 'Oh, it is unsinkable.' Well, look how that turned out. Actually, bad example. But my bunkers are unsinkable, unburnable, and undeniably fabulous."
As I left her showroom, a sprawling complex that looks like a wedding cake designed by a paranoid, she handed me a brochure. "Think of it as life insurance," she said. "But with more concrete."
I thanked her and walked out into the smog-laden air, coughing slightly. Perhaps she is onto something. Perhaps the solution to our burning world is not to stop it from burning but to build a better, more luxurious, underground world. After all, what else are we going to do with all that avocado toast money?
Gertrude Honeysuckle: saving the 1% from their own success. One bunker at a time.
