Just when you thought Venezuela couldn't catch a break, the universe decided to test its tectonic structural integrity. On Wednesday, a double-tap of massive earthquakes—a 7.2 and a 7.5 magnitude, striking within literally sixty seconds of each other—absolutely rocked the northern coast. It is the worst seismic event the country has seen since 1900, and the current body count has already crossed 164. While the elites in Caracas scrambled into the streets, the real story is the absolute state of the country's infrastructure under years of economic decay.

Let’s look at the built environment, because the contrast is wild. In the wealthy neighborhood of Los Palos Grandes, the massive, brutalist Centro Plaza shopping center—built back in the 1970s when Venezuela actually had oil money and used real reinforced concrete—took the hits and barely flinched. Meanwhile, modern residential buildings in the same area folded like cheap lawn chairs. Sebastian Rodríguez, an 18-year-old running a shop in the plaza, had to literally carry his mother out because she was completely frozen with fear as the world shook.

Outside the 70s concrete fortress, it was pure chaos. At least three apartment buildings in Altamira and Los Palos Grandes—the fancy embassy district where the British, German, and Brazilian diplomats hang out—straight up collapsed. Emergency crews and random volunteers were left clawing through piles of twisted steel and concrete as night fell. Jessica Galvis, a 33-year-old physician, was seen waiting outside a flattened six-story building hoping her friend wasn't crushed, while 61-year-old José Morillo rode his motorcycle across town to find his son, brother, and nephews trapped in the rubble. He did manage to see a female relative pulled out alive, but the overall scene was grim.

Then you have the working-class barrio of Catia, where things go from bad to worse. These people were already dealing with one of the most brutal peacetime economic crises in modern history, and now their walls are literally turning to dust. José Luis, a local PE teacher, watched his walls crumble and water pour through his ceiling. His solution? Sleeping on a piece of cardboard on the street because he’s too terrified to go back inside a building that looks like a Jenga tower ready to fall.

Luis was literally pleading for the government to send basic help. "The government needs to send people, firefighters... if there's another quake, this building will collapse," he said. Good luck with that. When your socialist state can't even keep the power on, expecting a coordinated FEMA-style rescue operation is high-level coping.