Humanity has continued in its irresponsibility; the plastic continent in the Pacific has grown, all the icebergs have melted, and there is one last rain forest. A long-lost eReader opens to Echo and flashes with magic. Deep within the forest’s heart, the Lorax wakes up, and he is Pissed. He sees the embodiment of our greed—the unholy love child of Gekko, Trump, and Vader—leading an army of logging machines toward his home. This isn’t Dr. Seuss Lorax; no bro, this is post-apocalypse Lorax. “Not on my watch, douchebags,” he mutters. He launches himself into battle, dual-wielding two screaming gatling cannons. On his back is a katana, on his hip, a lightsaber.