[ WP ] The year is 2170 . The air is no longer safe to breathe , courtesy of hundreds of genetically engineered CRISPR viruses all capable of altering human DNA within seconds . A cult of clean air worshippers decides to venture out into the open and remove all their masks at once

They'd been there since yesterday. Paul was n't exactly enthused about taking his kid to park when he had to walk past a circle of cultists doing God knew what. They had all lined up yesterday during Paul and Henry's walk home, their suits and masks painted bright messy colors against the gray. 
 
 He was surprised they were still there. He hesitated on the sidewalk for a moment as their smudged colors poked through the smog, pulling Henry a little closer. 
 
 The colorful weirdos had never really been harmful. Loud, standoffish, determined to stand out. But never *really* dangerous. Seeing them from the distance, still in their circle, standing like statues, put a pit of doubt in Paul. 
 
 Henry pulled on him, mumbling something behind his mask. The kid still had n't quite figured out how to project enough to be heard. His mother liked to keep him inside, afraid of having her kid have the mask lines permanently on his face. 
 
 Paul thought about turning around, going home. Henry would be the last generation to have parks. Paul wanted him to be able to enjoy them and remember them as he got older. So he sighed, held onto the tiny hand in his a little tighter, and started walking. 
 
 They got closer to the cultists and Paul tried not to stare. Henry was n't old enough for the eye implants that let you see through the smog. He could n't see them and Paul was never more grateful. The sight was grotesque. They had taken off their masks, the damn idiots. 
 
 The air had effected them all differently. Some simply laid there like they were asleep, face pale porcelain against the swath of colors on their suits. Others were rooted in place like trees, growths splitting through their skin and silicon alike and into the ground. A few had blown up like fat balloons. One was still twitching, moaning soft noises of agony and Paul almost believed it was alive. 
 
 Someone walked past him on the other side, Henry pulled a little more on him. Paul shook his head. Damn idiots wasting their lives. 
 
 They were gone on the walk home. Someone complained finally. Cleaners worked fast thankfully. Paul soon forgot about them.
