Climate

Three

The breeze stung Cedar's eyes as he sat on the wooden bench outside. He had a mask on, for fear he would pass out if he didn't. A thin suit meant for keeping out heat clung to his body. It was hot. Really hot.

The smoke had settled in the valley and the sky was a deep gray, like a storm was coming. He couldn't tell if it would rain.

Flowers quivered in the breeze and the soil was bone dry. It hadn't stormed in years and the temperatures would guarantee a disastrous weather pattern. The humidity had increased slightly, and that combined with the 130-degree temperatures made being outside life-threatening without proper protection - and even with the flimsy, government sanctioned suits it was miserable. Cedar's saving grace was that the chances of a thunderstorm were higher; potentially cooling the air down. The problem was any rain would likely be dangerously polluted and immediately flood the very dry soil. 

It wouldn't happen, he thought. It can't. The region hadn't seen measurable precipitation for three years and any cloud seeding efforts had been so dangerous due to the flooding they were discontinued. Water for crops was made artificially in climate-controlled labs that cost hundreds of millions of dollars located in certain areas of the country.

The loud, obvious crack of thunder snapped Cedar out of his head as he scrambled inside the special, heat-lessening airlock that had replaced his front door. The clouds seemed to open a moment later. Another crack of thunder; torrential rain. In seconds the street was flooding and rain gutters were overflowing. Storm drains were so full of debris from the frequent sandstorms that they were virtually ineffective.