Tevun-Krus #84 - Best of 2020

The Anthropocene - @Arveliot - SolarPunk

The Anthropocene

A SolarPunk story by Arveliot

They had made New Mexico lush and green. There was no room left in the world for something as wasteful as a desert. 

The path Roland Thatcherson followed was a wide gravel trail, cutting through a grassy meadow like a solder line on a circuit board. The hard pack was still wet from recent irrigation, and try as it might the wind couldn't pick up any dust. The grass bent and swayed, and waves rippled along the long kilometres to the horizon like the churning of the ocean. The air was sweet and cool and wet, and the whistling gale drowned out the distant hum of the desalination plants.

"Hey, I just got the first basic deposit!" someone called from up ahead. Roland turned away from the grassy field to follow the new noise to its source. It didn't take long, a small gaggle of classmates rushed a head of red hair holding a phone up in the air. And like carrion birds on a carcass the class swarmed, eager to devour something to distract from the long walk.

"Twelve hundred bits!" the same eager voice exclaimed, voice cracking in excitement. Holly Caulder, no one else Roland knew could manage quite the same high notes. And among other things, Holly's excitement meant the class had a new birthday to celebrate. "One each month, for the rest of my life!"

Universal Basic Income started at fifteen, the age where a minor becomes an adult. Not that being an adult let someone vote or leave school until eighteen.

Out of habit, Roland's hand was wrapped around a similar device, thumb rubbing the fingerprint scanner. Despite having ten of those payments, Roland's account was nearly empty.

"Roland," Jamie said, physically accentuating the greeting with a playful punch to the shoulder. Roland was surprised to see Jamie had pulled away from the class as they gathered around Holly.

"Did you buy it?" Jamie asked, in an excited whisper. "Is our plan still on for tomorrow? Are we really going to rob a train?"

Roland cringed, and put a finger in front of Jamie's lips. "Not so loud!" Roland rasped, pointing to their class. "We're not exactly alone."

For a moment — like a single frame in a movie — Jamie blushed, mouth pursed, lips against Roland's finger. But the moment passed, so quickly Roland could believe it hadn't happened. Jamie laughed without remarking on it, and swept an arm towards the class up ahead. "They couldn't hear the professor shouting at them over their own racket," Jamie said. "So, did you buy it? You were saying you might not have enough."

"I had enough. We'll talk about this later, I promise," Roland pleaded. "I just don't want to talk about it at school. Even if we're on a field trip.

"Talk about what?" a voice asked.

Roland whirled around — mouth open and cheeks uncomfortably warm — to see their teacher standing right behind them.

Professor Bates had a wry, knowing grin. A staple for the professor, as much as the unkempt hair, and spectacles in a world where corrective laser surgery was considered a human right. The glasses glinted in the sun, and obscured where the professor was looking. Roland's breath halted midway, and only a stuttering stammer came out.

"Ooh, it must be nefarious," the professor said. Bates looked from Roland to Jamie and back, with that same wry smile, as if ten steps ahead in a game no one else knew they were playing. "But I'll pry it out of you later. We're here."