Some would have said that Avamon was a tropical paradise. But they wouldn't say that now. of course, the Americans might, just to cover up. You see, it was all down to them: the pumping of chemicals, the underground containers of pharmaceutical waste, the ozone eradication that caused the unusual rainfalls of last summer, flooding the lush, tropical plains of Avamon, and allowing the waste to seep through into the tree roots. It was the palm trees that were most harmfully effected. The watery innocence of coconut milk that was so brutally corrupted. Full of hormones, teething with oestrogen, it first made its inhabitants seem noticably feminine. Breats blossomed on the most rugged of chests. Legs and arms became smoother, and personalities softened into effete consideration. At this point Avamon was indeed the paradise proclaimed. But then, the inhabitants became infertile. As the years passed, people grew old, no new blood was introduced into the work force. No-one could sustain themselves. Those too old to hunt or gather had no alternative but to turn to the Americans for salvation. The pharmaceutical companies were all to eager to catch on, marketing the oestrogn coconut milk as a natural contraceptive to the health-conscious first world. The natives were offered work on the coconut farms, but most were too old. Instead, native Americans were shipped in off the coast of Pueto Rico and sent up the diseased trees to harvest the drugs. Rage-therapy groups were established on the island, and an contraception-inclusive holiday resort for beered-up twenty-somethings. Litter and plastics flooded the island, and the stretched, abused soil didn't survive the next ozone-produced flood in the island. No, there's not much left of Avamon now. Just a used-up, toxic, swampy wasteland. Of course it used to be a tropical paradise, they tell the Japanese on business exchanges. But nobody could call it that now.