UNFORTUNATELY, BY THE time we reached the first commercial zone (Cornerstone Plaza of Cocoa Beach), we had no better idea of what had occurred than before, only that the entire suburb had become wild and overgrown—more than what seemed possible in the 21 months we’d been gone—its parks and lawns become mere patches of blowing tundra, its structures choked in moss and vine.
I picked an orange from a nearby tree and rubbed it against my spacesuit. “So here we are—in search of the black swan. The unexpected event that led to—all this.” I peeled the fruit as I scanned the shopping center, settling on a storefront with a car crashed through its window. “This—what shall we call it? Death by invasive species.” I split the orange down the middle and tossed him half of it. “This lost country. ‘Unt
