At root, I am asking you to imagine what energy has lost. It has become an object of political economy—and merely that. Even before hydrocarbons, certain residents of the Caribbean demanded slaves and, in so doing, strung together the first intercontinental energy market. None of these protagonists, though, has simply bought and sold. They have imagined energy as one thing and not as another, constructing a mental model of the ability to do work. As they have bought, sold, and debated that good, they brand it as one thing: as a necessary, available, unquestionable means to wealth and progress. In this tunnel vision of fuel, my informants and historical figures cut off other ways of thinking about energy. Not deliberately—but systematically, nonetheless—all parties to Trinidad’s oil economy have exempted the substance from moral analysis. Here is the greatest complicity: the failure to consider alternatives and to apply conscience to those choices. Throughout the hydrocarbon age—in Trinidad and beyond—so many people have extracted and burned so much with so little pause or reflection. What if one did pause and consider paths not taken, options once available and perhaps still at hand? Only a handful of my informants willed themselves to see the profound decision all around them. This chapter considers that minority view, a window to hope and action now emergent.