Dave Phillips closed the door
behind him from the laboratory building where he worked, adjusting his dust
mask. Although it was an early July evening on one of the longest days of the
year, the sky was almost charcoal grey with faint tinges of daylight. He was
lost in thought as he started his usual walk home from work. The path along the
Saint John River was a direct two mile walk from the lab to his riverside home
on the edge of town. To keep out the drizzle that never seemed to end, his Blue
Jays ball cap was angled sharply down and his well-worn nylon jacket was zipped
tightly up to his neck. On the way home, one that he had walked countless
times, it was his usual time to reflect on the day’s events.
This Thursday afternoon, as
the work week ended, he was not thinking about what usually awaited him at home
but on the one area that he specialized in at the lab. Dave, as director of the
New Foods Division, was tasked with finding new sources of food that would grow
in low light conditions. This week, he and his team had failed to keep a new
plant cross from wilting and he was desperate to come up with a solution. He
had hoped that this time a turnip-carrot cross that they had developed would
survive in this sun starved planet.
Midway through his walk, his
thoughts turned to the sunny days some years ago when he really enjoyed these
walks home. It followed the beautiful river, lined with drooping weeping
willows, shining silver maples and butternut trees. Mind you it was not always
so pleasant, he thought, as some years ago it could be positively frigid on
those blustery winter days. But at least those days were bright with sunshine
at these mid-forty degrees latitude. But the thought of getting home to his
favorite old leather chair and a glass of his dwindling single malt scotch
stock was a good incentive to now hurry through this walk home.
Today he kept thinking of what
could have been. The world had changed terrible since those sunny days of the
early 2020’s. His small city has grown large with the steady influx of new
residents over the years. Scientists had long warned that the
earth’s population was approaching an unsupportable level and Dave remembered
the almost quaint thought of a world having only four billion people the year
he was born. How could we have gone from that to a planet that now numbered
close to fifteen billion? How did we go from that, to a world where our own
star, the sun, now barely made it through a now almost permanent cloud cover?
At first the changes were
small and people appreciated the beautiful and colourful sunrises and sunsets.
Yes, scientists had warned that the dependance on fossil fuels and depleting
forests would warn the planet. But up here at our northern latitudes some
warming was thought to be a welcomed change. And with the ever-smarter advances
in science and agriculture, the world was able to adapt, at first, to this
growing population. Even the recent Pope had published a latest encyclical on
the sanctity of having more souls for their flock. And the ever-popular
American President kept ridiculing the naysayers by bragging about the
ever-increasing economic gains. But somehow the growing masses had continued to
alter the climate and pollute the air. As the planet warmed the oceans followed
suit, evaporating ever more moisture into the atmosphere. Eventually, with all
this dust and moisture in the atmosphere, the cloud cover won over and became a
permanent feature. Sunny cool clear days were now a distant memory.
Deep in thought, Dave was
brought back to reality as he stumbled over some debris left by the now
numerous homeless people camped on the trail. Today’s world, with little sun
and increasing cloud cover, had reminded him of the solar system closest planet,
Venus, that had inspired so many gods, paintings and poems. Over the eons it
had developed its own lifeless, permanent, 20-kilometer-thick cloud cover of
carbon and sulphur dioxide. On our own planet the nightmare scenario had
arrived and, slowly at first, certain plants had become stunted, then turned
sickly brown and finally died. Others, more shade tolerant had survived, but
just, although there were signs that even those were beginning a slow decline.
The world had turned ugly as people hoarded remaining food supplies and
countries raced to develop new shade tolerant food sources, some even trying to
reverse the ever-present cloud cover ….. maybe too little and too late.
Why, he thought, were people
so dumb as to listen to those naysayers back then who pooh-poohed the notion of
overpopulation? Could we not have heeded the Club of Rome’s 1970’s report that
drastic increases in population would lead to catastrophic consequences? Could
we not have learned from the early nineteenth century’s massive volcanic
eruption in the Dutch East Indies that covered the earth’s atmosphere with a
thick layer of ash, plunging our precious earth into a year without summer?
Could we not have recognized back then that population decline in some
countries, due to an aging population, was a good thing? As he looked up at the
darken skies, he thought, obviously not.
Dave picked up his pace as the
drizzle increased, pulling his cap down ever more tightly. He was almost home
now having to avoid more and more the miserable shacks of those unfortunate
people camped along the trail. Again, his mind raced back to the time many
years ago when he had witnessed the barrios or ‘lost cities’ on the edge of
those large Latin American cities, peopled with millions of inhabitants
existing in a scary jumble of hovels. This could never happen up here people
then thought, but was this a portend of things to come?
Arriving home, he looked up
wistfully at the towering maple trees that at one time had wonderfully shaded
his home. But now, in mid-summer, they stood bare and leafless. In spite of
repeated warnings, countries had just recently banned fossil fuel power plants,
unsuccessfully it seemed. Electricity was intermittent at best as the province
now relied only on its aging hydro installations and a sputtering nuclear
plant. Nightfall, he thought, now arrived more as a whimper that a major change
to darkness. Closing the door behind him, Dave’s first action was to strike a
match lighting the wick on one of his two antique kerosene lamps that he had
kept more as quaint souvenirs from his grandparents’ farm. It provided a little
light but for how long? ….. as long as his kerosene stock lasted. He had been
able to buy some from an unnamed source that had a pirated the stock from those
now useless airline jets that sat rusting on the airport tarmac.
Food was now the main
consideration and Dave had had the foresight to stock his cold room with some
quantities of canned goods, dried foods and a few root crops. It reminded him
of his grandparents’ rural houses, like all farm houses of those days, that had
root cellars to see them through those long winter months. Of course, nowadays
winter was only a distant memory but food storage was now essential for
survival …… survival, but for how long? ….. as long as the dismal growing
conditions continued to provide some meager crops. He wondered why it hadn’t
really occurred to city people that all food had been derived not from
supermarkets but from the wonderful sunny climate and rich earth that we once
had. Dave opened his last can of corn nibblets and peeled a tired looking
potato for his supper. A piece of chicken or a pork chop added to this simple
fare would have been nice but they had long disappeared from the markets.
Fortunately, the once rarely
used fireplace still kept some of the unpleasant and ever-present dampness at
bay. With the abundance of dying trees fuel source was not a problem. It’s
ironic, he thought, since the city had long banned fires in an effort to
counteract the warming planet. Now no one seem to care. After his comforting
dram of remaining scotch, bedtime came early so he crawled into his bed and
curled up under a tired looking quilt, falling into a deep troubled sleep.
As a bit of grey light
filtered through the curtains, Dave, in a half-awake state, slowly became aware
of the beginning of a new day as he lay there recalling his doomsday sunless
nightmare. Thank Christ, he thought, it was only a dream. Shuffling to the
window in his bare feet he sleepily drew back the curtains. He stared, not at
his beautiful sugar maples but at two towering leafless skeletons.
§§§§§
