Note: For a while now I’ve been dabbling in science fiction short stories. Recently I entered a few short-fiction story contests. I didn’t win anything, nor did I expect too. One of the contests attracted 1,100 entries. And had prizes. So, they probably attracted some serious writers.
Even though I didn’t win, the experience was fun and enlightening. There’s only one way to become a better writer. Read more. And write more. Work at your craft. For me, writing fiction is very different from writing technical archeological papers and reports. It’s been a learning process to write for a public audience.
And the topics for those contest were inspiring too. Both contests challenged us to write about a futuristic world. As it might appear in the year, 2,200 (Grist Magazine). The other competition, in ‘Sapiens Plurum’ (wisdom of many), and the stories to be published in Fix, asked us to create a story where we were more in harmony with our world – our environment, the creatures that live in it, and others around us.
Over the coming weeks, I’ll share these stories with you. Here’s how I imagine us living in a better, more harmonious world.
Here’s the first one then. Submitted to Sapiens Plurum, May, 2021:
A TIME WHEN THE TREES RAN FOR THEIR LIVES
A Time 6,000 Years Ago
The old man and his grandson stood at the south edge of their dying northern forest. Before them rose one brave majestic spruce tree, well over 200 years old. Now brown and loosing its needles. Struggling to survive. And not another tree in sight.
The wizened old man looked down at his grandson. “Let me tell you a story, young one. When I was your age, long, long ago, I stood on this same spot amongst towering, majestic evergreens. This place, and even farther south, was all lush, green forest, inhabited by many animals.”
“But, what does it mean grandfather? We are a forest people. Are we losing our homes, our way of life?” Turok now looked somewhat anxious. Was his home threatened?
The old man gazed at the forlorn-looking tree struggling to survive. Soon the fires would take it if the heat and dryness failed to. “It means my child, that the trees are running away. To a new place if they are to survive. If we are to survive, we must follow them.”
An inquisitive Turok wondered about grandfather’s words. He pondered whether it had happened before or would again.
2015: Oslo, Norway
Two young men and a woman sat in the conference hotel lounge, trying to enjoy a drink after the day’s sessions on climate change. All were brilliant in their fields of genetic engineering, forest ecology, international law and diplomacy. What they’d heard was hardly surprising but still jarring and sobering: global warming was raising hell with everything including the one thing they all had an interest in – the health of the boreal forests of the world. The news wasn’t good. The boreal forests of the world were dying.
The Scandinavian lawyer/diplomat, Karst Olsen, spoke first. “What a bloody mess. If people only knew the half of it. As temperatures continue to rise, and the boreal forests continue to decline, to burn and release their vast carbon stores into the atmosphere, even greater temperature increases will be triggered. If I heard right, no matter what we do, we can no longer stop it from happening.” He ran his fingers through his thinning hair. Olsen was a rare political bird. He listened to scientists, considered the ethical and legal implications of their work, then relayed their information to the rest of the political community. But getting them to act on it was a job that would thin even the thickest head of hair in a short period of time.
The Russian plant geneticist and engineer, Dmitri Yashin, leaned forward and in a heavy accent added. “Does world not understand anything? Including my government? They think the Siberian taiga is just for logging and mineral extraction. I agree, Karst, it is a catastrophe waiting to happen. Our northern forests are dying and the animals with them. They represent thirty percent of all forests in the world. Even if we stop the warming, now, it is too late. We cannot stop this. I have some ideas, but no one listens.” The Russian shook his black head of hair already showing white streaks.
Throughout the conversation, the Canadian palaeoecologist, Susan Brock, who also specialized in microbiotics, remained quiet, listening intently to her two colleagues. She had never met these men before but knew their reputation. She had asked if they would join her for a drink to hear their thoughts. Now the others looked at her intently, expecting to hear a reason for the meeting.
“Gentlemen, as you both point out the news isn’t good. But I have more.”
Dmitri interrupted, “Any good news, Dr. Brock, please. I don’t feel so good after that session.” Dmitri, however, was feeling better by looking into the eyes of the striking woman before him, unconsciously stroking his hair to ensure it was neatly in place.
“Well, Dmitri, the good news is that the boreal forest isn’t really dying. It is moving north as our climate warms to cooler places to survive.”
“That is good news, Susan. So, it will get bigger then?” Karst too was liking what he heard.
Susan responded, “No, it doesn’t work like that. The southern edge is dying, and the northern edge is expanding.”
“So, then in the future, it will be the same, or maybe even bigger,” suggested Karst.
“No. And here comes the bad news. The world’s major vegetation zones, including the boreal forest, have moved before. The dying parts of the boreal forest will release massive amounts of trapped carbon into the atmosphere. The 2017 summer fires in British Columbia, Canada that released 190 million tonnes of green house gases into the atmosphere will pale in comparison.”
“So, why not just focus on technology to directly remove CO2 from the air to solve problem?” Dmitri’s scientific interest perked up. He liked solving problems. Especially if he could solve them with Susan.
“Too costly, and not nearly efficient enough.” Susan stopped and took a drink, bracing herself to explain what would come next. It wasn’t good.
“In the past forests moved and adapted as climate slowly changed. This change is too fast. Our forests can’t adapt fast enough. Secondly, remember where the forest is heading. To the Canadian Shield in North America and similar terrain in your country, Dmitri. Solid bedrock. Big trees don’t grow so well on solid rock.” She now had the men’s full attention, as they began to understand what the world was facing.
“So why have you summoned us, Dr. Brock?” Karst asked but was beginning to join the dots.
“Because I think if the three of us work together, there might be a way out.” As she said these words, she casually gazed over at the people assembled in the lounge.
“Deutsch bitte, meine Herren.” And then she related her plans in fluent German to the two startled men on what was needed over the next five years. And what would be expected of them. At first there were confused looks, then a dawning understanding, followed by mischievous grins. Dr. Susan Brock picked up her laptop, leaving two other identical ones with further instructions for her colleagues, and walked out of the lounge.
Ottawa, Canada
Colonel Strange, Canadian Secret Service, glared at the man in front of him describing the meeting between the three scientists in Oslo a few days ago.
“What do you mean you couldn’t understand the last part of the conversation?”
“Sir, Dr. Brock was speaking English, and I could clearly hear everything. Then suddenly she switched to German. I don’t understand German.”
A now somewhat enraged Strange shouted. “You at least recorded it, right?”
“No, Sir. I didn’t have time. Or the equipment.”
“Bloody fool. That woman wasn’t just having a drink and picking up men. She’s one of our top scientists in microbiotics. Dangerous stuff, I’m told. We need to keep an eye on her. Sharing information with those two. How dare she without first coming to us. They’re up to something. I know it. I feel it.” Finally Strange looked at the agent and waved his hand. “Dismissed.”
Moscow, Russia
In Moscow, a similar conversation was going on between Lieutenant Korlekov and his agent who reported the same thing about Yashin’s meeting. There was considerable shouting, fist banging and finally stomping feet as the agent fled from his superior’s curses.
Both Strange and Korlekov sat in their respective offices trying to make sense of the meeting. Brock was the ringleader. Whatever they were up to might have international implications that could affect both countries. Strange was tempted just to arrest Brock and throw her in the slammer. And then ask some tough questions. Not very Canadian-like but this was serious business. Korlekov was thinking the same thing. Both men, however, knew, given who they were dealing with, that was impossible.
But before they could do anything, both Brock and Yashin mysteriously disappeared. Just vanished. At that news, a bead of sweat broke out on the men’s faces as they reached for the desk drawer for a much needed drink. Their disappearance would not be easy to explain to their superiors.
2020: A Small Swedish Community, on the Northern Edge of the Taiga
They sat around the kitchen table sipping their drinks. Much like their first meeting in Oslo. Talking about the forest’s problems and their project. But many things had changed. Brock and Yashin, working so closely together, had become husband and wife, sharing a passion for their work and each other. And they were no longer just worrying about the forests’ problems. They were trying to solve them.
Finally, Karst spoke. “After reading of your progress, I thought I’d drop by and have a few words.”
“A few words, Karst? How can there only be a few words from a lawyer? Are there issues?”
“Yes, I’m afraid. Your sudden disappearances caused a lot of friction between your countries. CSIS is accusing Russia of kidnapping you, Dr. Brock, to gain insights into your work on microbiotics. And the Russians are accusing the Canadians of whisking away Dr. Yashin for his work in biological genetic engineering. No one in either country, however, has yet added two and two together. They never will because they don’t see the need for cooperation and teamwork. And that some problems of the world require them, at a high level.” Olsen, automatically reached to run his hands through his hair, apparently not realizing he had none.
“But no one knows, Karst? How we pulled that off? Given who we are?” A now almost white-haired Dmitri was surprised at that. He shook his head. Brock’s plan had been brilliant. But she never told him where it came from and who had orchestrated it. He never asked. Perhaps someday the truth would come out. Now there still were more important things to consider.
Olsen, leaned over the table and in a hushed voice, added. “There’s more, as I’m sure you both heard on the news. Both your fields are closely being scrutinized by the media.”
“I know, I know. Fiddling with nature and turning little robots loose is causing a bit of a shitstorm. Especially among certain political elements of the planet.” Brock knew long ago that this day would come. A day when the big question had to be asked: What are acceptable trade-offs in saving the planet? “We’re past the point of petty ethics, religion, and legalities, Karst. They won’t matter if the whole planet dies. And every living thing on it.”
“I know, Susan. I know. I’ve been making the same arguments to our leaders, but to no avail. They argue this type of research is unethical. Not right, not natural.”
“Hypocrites! All of them. We’ve been fiddling with nature for thousands of years. On all continents, even Antarctica, with the animals and plants, even the ground. We’ve created many synthetic products that are crippling our environment. How is that natural? This is one step further on a scale unimaginable but necessary. If we lose these forests, we’re doomed.”
Dmitri was about to say more when Susan broke in. “Let’s give them a gift. As soon as there’s some economic and political benefit from our work, they’ll shut up real fast. And go on their hypocritical ways.”
“What sort of gift, Susan?”
Susan stood and motioned Karst to follow her. Out in the back yard overlooking fields, Susan pointed to a new crop of what looked like wheat, just coming up. “We’ve had some unexpected results from our research that will benefit more than just the forests. Take these seeds back and let the politicians give them to the farmers. That’ll put smiles on everyone’s faces.”
“But what are these, Susan?”
“Ask Dmitri. It’s his brainchild.” Karst turned to Dmitri, but before he could ask, Susan motioned toward a stand of trees.
“And, Karst, how do like our new trees, and my new organic mat?” At first Karst just stared, speechless as he slowly realized what he was seeing.
After Susan and Dmitri explained their research, Karst could only gasp. He whispered over and over, almost weeping. “This is incredible. Just incredible. Unbelievable. The trees will be able to run north faster now.” Then they went back into the house to have a few more drinks, and settle poor Karst down, who was still mumbling, “Unbelievable, incredible. How did you do it….?”
2050: The Boreal Forest, North West Territories, Canada
The two old men sat on the bench overlooking the little lake surrounded by beautiful forest. Taking in the smells of rich pine and spruce needles, listening to the birds and distant howling of a wolf pack on the hunt.
“Tell me, Alexei, did you ever have doubts on what we were doing? I mean as the leader of Russia then, you were taking a tremendous risk. Not only at home, but abroad. If you were wrong, the world could have turned against you. Your people would have strung you up.”
Alexei Yashin turned to the once Canadian prime minister. “No Gerald. No doubts. Who could have? There were no other solutions. I had faith in what we were doing together. But that young Olsen really convinced me. He has a brilliant legal mind, and he knew how to push the right buttons.”
Gerald Brock nodded, feeling much the same way. Undoubtedly, the two scientists were brilliant in their solution to save the northern forests. But for their brilliance to come to fruition, it took world-wide international cooperation. At the very highest levels.
Alexei stared into the forest, still somewhat shocked by how this had all come about. “Gerald, we couldn’t tell anyone. Too many cooks in the kitchen usually spoil the dinner. There was too much at stake for that to happen.”
“I guess you’re right. We did share a bit at least. The grain that Dmitri gene-engineered tipped the scales. It satisfied a lot of people because of its faster growth and higher yield. It was like manna sent from the heavens. Abruptly, genetic engineering was no longer a problem. Hypocrites.”
“I wonder if they suspect the truth, Gerald, about what else it does. I haven’t said a word. Have you?”
“No. Why bother. They didn’t care about CO2 emissions then, so why would they care if that strain of wheat sucked up five times more CO2 than other strains. And, certainly balanced out the CO2 emissions the dying forests were giving off.”
Unexpectedly, Alexei stood up and started jumping up and down on the ground. Secret Service men suddenly appeared out of the trees, but he waved them off. “Seems solid enough, Gerald. I still don’t know how she managed this.” He stared at what seemingly looked like a normal forest floor. And then jumped on it one more time for good measure.
“She’s a marvel in microbiotics, Alexei. Your Dmitri did well designing those conifer and poplar trees that could grow three times faster and suck up five times more CO2 than the normal boreal forest conifers.”
“Yes, he’s a genius. But, without this mat, those trees could not have grown on the bedrock as the forests moved north. This beneath me is true genius.”
“At first I didn’t believe her when she explained it to me. How could you develop an organic layer, essentially soil, over the top of bedrock, so those trees could grow further north?”
“So, what convinced you?”
“She invited me out to the cottage near the northern edge of the forest. She laid down an organic mat. Then told me to measure its width and thickness. I did. Exactly a metre wide, twenty centimetres thick, and one-hundred metres long. When we came back twenty-four hours later, I measured the mat again. It was ten centimetres wider and two centimetres thicker.”
“At first I thought it was some sort of trick. I had to be sure. So, I camped out all night and took measurements every three hours. Took a lot of good scotch to get that done.”
“She was right, wasn’t she? Or, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Yes, she was right. That bloody mat was growing, with the help of those little bots in there. It was producing soil for those trees to grow in. But even more incredible, it was chewing up about thirty centimetres of bedrock beneath it.”
“But you worried, right, Gerald? Like I did with Dmitri’s genetic engineering. If we let the genie out of the bottle, would we ever control it?”
“Yes. I worried a lot about how to control it.”
“And that was her brilliance as well. This mat was laid down ten years ago. It’s alive but the little bots are dead. They were xenobots, biological robots, with a certain life-span. They did their work, and then were gone. That convinced you, right?”
“Right. We were out of time, and out of solutions.”
The two old men gazed over the lake, lost in their thoughts. Thinking about what might not have been. Perhaps there was a divine being who put all this in place. Suddenly their grandchildren and great grandchildren burst from the forest, followed by Susan and Dmitri. Everyone was flush with the excitement of exploring the forest trails and searching for rare mushrooms for dinner.
Alexei and Gerald looked up and smiled as their family milled around them. They acknowledged their two children. “Finally made it back, did you? We were worried the wolves and bears got you. We were just talking about you…..”
A Time 400 Years Later
The old woman stood with her granddaughter at the edge of the northern forest. Both looked at the dying trees. The trees were no longer able to deal with the harsher winters as the Earth cooled.
“What is happening, grandmother? Are they dying?”
“Yes, they are my child. And soon their kind will run south towards the sun that nourishes them.”
“Is it bad, grandmother? That they run?”
“No, it’s the way of Nature. The trees know when to run. Sometimes we need to help them though.”
The young child wondered whether it had happened before or would ever again.
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EndNote
I view our current global warming from a somewhat unique perspective. It’s happened before. In Alberta, for example, thousands of years ago, the prairies were in the Peace River Country as western Canada experienced hot, dry conditions.
However, unlike today, humans, as far as we know, had nothing to do with creating those warmer, drier conditions. We’ve created the problems but we’re struggling to find the will to slow down CO2 emissions, or the technology to allow our forests to adapt to increasing temperatures.
The fun part about fiction, is it lets you dream and imagine. Perhaps I’m being naive to think that countries can work together on issues of a global scale. Or, that there are ways we can counter what we have created. Nanotechnology, however, is not a dream. Nor are genetically engineered trees that can suck up more CO2 emissions. That is already in the works.
I’ll leave it at that. I’m an optimist. Whatever humans imagine they have often created. So maybe there’s hope for the mess we’re in.
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