When they discover me, they call me Rainforest Man because they can't pronounce my name.
On day one the internet laughed from my phone, from my friend's phones.
On day two my countrymen threaten me for destroying the economy.
On day three an intellectual sends me an exact breakdown of the carbon footprint of my tent suspended in the trees, down to the disposable water bottle I am seen drinking out of in my daily vlogs.
On day four they drop the subtlety and shout with a megaphone about criminal charges. They leave by midnight, but come back at four in the morning.
On day five I fall asleep. I forget to vlog and the internet says I've given up, gone home. The stay-at-home environmentalists call me phoney.
On day six they abuse me for the colour of my skin.
On day seven there is smoke. Before nightfall the fire does the company's work for them. My tent is caught in the fire, but I survive.
On day eight there is no more rainforest sector 49.
I start walking.