Oh, what could have been.

A shy and tech-savvy anteater was just a subway stop away from being the face of the MTA and its brand-new MetroCard in the ’90s, but was put to death before he was ever truly born.

The adorably-named and incredibly ’90s-esque Cardvaark has been resurrected at the New York Transit Museum as part of its FAREwell MetroCard exhibit — 30 years after he was imagined as a way to teach New Yorkers how to swipe at the turnstile.

“Cardvaark could have been the mascot for MetroCard when it was introduced, but sadly, he’s not,” Jodi Shapiro, a curator at the NYTM, told The Post.

“He’s very cute. He has sort of a knowing look: ‘I know you’re gonna use the MetroCard.'”

Although he was left behind by the MTA three decades ago, Cardvaark is prominently displayed at the FAREwell MetroCard exhibit — giving him the adoration he missed out on when an MTA executive dashed his hopes of leading New York into a new technological age.

The orange anteater was proposed by a marketing team back in 1993, the year before the MetroCard was launched as a replacement for the much-bulkier token.

That’s also three years before Arthur, the children’s TV cartoon, claimed the title of most famous anteater of the decade.

Cardvarrk, dressed in an outfit to match the then-mostly blue cards, wore a swiper on his arm to presumably show straphangers how to use the MetroCard before catching a ride.

“It was new technology for New Yorkers. [The MTA] tried to figure out the most extensive plan to reach as many people as possible, so one of the ideas that was floated by a marketing consultant that they had hired was to make an adorable but technologically advanced creature to sell the card to New Yorkers,” explained Shapiro.

“Cardvaark was that adorable and technologically advanced creature.”

Cardvarrk would have been a living and breathing mascot, though much more approachable than the uber creepy Frankie Focus, which Gov. Hochul rolled out as part of her recent school cell phone ban.

The costumed anteater would have been assigned to popular stations like Times Square to walk riders through using the MetroCard.

The MTA crafted an entire plan for Cardvaark that included a cost breakdown for the suit, the actor they would hire to wear it and what stations he would work at. But it was nixed in the 11th hour.

“Somebody must not have liked it and said, ‘We can’t do this,'” said Shapiro, adding that the move was so perplexing that not even the NYTM historians know why.

Fortunately, Cardvaark was given a second chance at life, even as the MetroCard marches toward its end.

He now greets transit museum guests from an operator’s car that doubles as a door to the blue- and yellow-colored room dedicated to the FAREwell MetroCard exhibit.

Inside, a cardboard cutout of Cardvaark stands among the dozens of limited edition MetroCards and pamphlets announcing major changes to the payment system throughout its 30-year history.

The 6-foot-tall diagram has become a major draw for guests, with many stopping to take pictures with the long-lost mascot.

Even Zabar’s started hawking limited-edition cookies with his face on it to mark the end of the MetroCard.

Shapiro, arguably Cardvaark’s biggest fan, said the only gripe to be found with the animal — is that the spelling does not follow the correct grammar for the animal he is named after.

“Everybody who finds out about Cardvaark loves him! He’s very cool. People ask about him all the time,” said Shapiro.