Jacob: It’s not vengeance. It’s preservation. You’ve been to New York; you’ve been to Boston. Now close your eyes and imagine those places if the cities weren’t there. Come on, do it. White sands stretching to a forest of hickory and elm taller than the buildings that stand there now. Meadows filled with bison and moose and bear, and millions of salmon swimming up the east river to spawn, so thick, you could walk across them. Now think about what’s there now: a thirteen-mile island of cement with rivers of sewage running underneath it until they dump into the bay where salmon don’t dare to swim. That’s what they’ll do to this place: dam the rivers, flood the valleys, cut every tree that stands to build cities. This paradise becomes another concrete desert.