Dead Water

Because We didn't Listen

My name is Natalie Hamburch. The year is 2058 and the world is dying. The oceans, bled dry from overfishing, have become dead wastelands, and with them the planets ecosystem. Poisonous gasses fill the air, making it nearly unbreathable. Even here, a mile and a half above sea level, or what used to be sea level decades ago, it's nearly impossible to breathe, and the temperature is extremely warm, except at night when it's extremely cold. My grandfather, Papa, breathes through an oxygen mask, but his tank is nearly empty, and we have no money for a new one. My mother moved us up here, because she thought it would be easier on young Carla and I's lungs. But you can't run away from a poisonous atmosphere. Little Carla feels the effects already. She doesn't have asthma, thank God, but she constantly sounds like she's having an attack. We've grown used to it, but sometimes when I awake late at night, alone, in the dark, I can hear her little struggling gasps through the thin walls. In the cold. In the dark. Mother works at the local store, but it barely pays. The shop owners aren't much better off than us. I constantly have to help out. I used to have a bike that I rode to and from the store, but we had to sell it to pay for Papas last oxygen tank. 

I walk home from the store. I'm wearing my respiratory mask, but it doesn't matter. The filter died long ago. The sky is a blackened grey as always, with a small orb of light exposing the bright sun from behind the deadly clouds. A few beggars reach out their hands for money, but I walk past. I have nothing to give them. As I arrive home, I check the mailbox. Empty, as always. I remember when I was younger, I would wait for the mailman and when he arrived, I would race out to greet him. That was when Father was still alive. He was in the army. When the oceans died, the economy crashed so far that the Great Depression looked like the Roaring 20s in comparison. Resources grew thin. Thats when the Resource wars began. Countries joined sides and fought for control of oil, what little life was in the oceans and whatever other resources mattered at the time. My Father was a part of the Great Allied Forces. I barely remember the countries. The United States, Great Britian, Mexico? It doesn't matter. There are no more countries. Eventually they descended into anarchy and were replaced by crime syndicates. The ugly, deformed, cruel children of traditional governments. 

I used to wait for the mailman. Wait for him to hand me the crisp white envelope. The letter written in the impressive, beautiful cursive handwriting, and very rarely a small trinket or treat.  "My Darling Daughter" he would always begin, followed by all of the amazing things that had happened, and how much he loved me, and funny stories. He would always follow it with a separate page for Mother that he told me not to read. I read it sometimes. Passionate letters about how much he loved and missed her, and how much he couldn't wait to get home. Then one day the mailman came and when I ran out to greet him, he refused to give me the letter. I knew right then something was wrong. He went to greet my mother who was heavily pregnant with Carla at the time. He handed her the letter and muttered a small apology before leaving. I followed Mother back inside. She stood at the kitchen counter, took a deep breath and opened the letter. She read it for a moment, then dropped the letter and ran to her room wailing. I read the letter. The document that every military family dreads receiving. An official Allied Forces Death Certificate. Name: Alexander Hambach. Cause of Death: gunshot. Date of Death: August 7, 2050.  This was followed by a heartless, mass-produced apology letter, and a pathetic check of $100 USA. I remember Mother snatching the letter from me. She paused and looked between me and the letter, then nervously held it out to me. But I didn't want it anymore. I stared at her as hot tears filled my eyes. Mother hugged me and we collapsed on the ground sobbing.

I enter the house. 

"Carla! Papa! I'm home!" No response. I take off my worn shoes and walk through the house. I find Carla in the back room with Papa (asleep and snoring loudly) watching an old nature documentary. On the ocean. Mother doesn't like us watching them. Their too sad. I remind Carla of this, but I find myself drawn to the screen. Entranced by the beautiful reefs, the teal, and green and deep blue of the water, the playful dolphins, the colorful reefs, the graceful sharks, the intelligent orcas, the funny seals and penguins. I don't know how long we sat there. But for a moment, just a moment, we were transported back in time. Back to when Earth was still thriving. Then it breaks. Shatters into a thousand pieces, when Mother turns off the TV. Then she hugs both of us. We cry. We mourn the ocean. We mourn Father. We mourn Earth. 

"Why didn't we do anything? Why didn't we just listen? We could've stopped it. We could've saved it." Carla whimpers, struggling to breathe. Why didn't we just listen? I think crying. Earth wouldn't be dying. The ocean would still be alive. Father would still be alive. Why Didn't we just listen? We are so entangled with grief, that we don't realize that Papa's oxygen tank is empty. 

Why didn't we just listen? 

Why didn't we just fix it?