Terraformer

by Scott McElhaney

  “We gather the rain from the gutters and use it to water the plants,” Corsica gestured toward the rain-spattered roof, “It’s funneled into the ceiling pipes and then into individual sprinklers. If there’s an abundance of rain, it gets stored into drums for later.”

  We navigated to the far end of that long greenhouse where we located another door similar to the previous one. Corsica opened it and brought us into a short corridor that led us right to another door into the next greenhouse. This particular greenhouse was dedicated to yet another buried vegetable which Corsica informed us were potatoes and sweet potatoes. Our presence had immediately drawn the attention of a man at the far end of the greenhouse. He dropped whatever dirty object he’d been holding in his gloved hands and headed in our direction.

  “This man approaching us right now is one of my most trusted geneticists and agricultural scientists,” she spoke loud enough for the bespectacled man to hear as he approached, “Porter was singlehandedly responsible for creating plums the size of tennis balls. Before he came along, a golf ball-sized plum was thought to be a massive anomaly.”

  The sweaty man tugged off his dirty gloves and tossed them to the floor before reaching out a hand toward me. I shook his hand while he presented me with a wide smile of crooked yellow teeth.

  “She makes it a bigger deal than what it was,” he said humbly, turning to shake Sydney’s hand, “She just doesn’t realize I focused my attention there because plums are her favorite. Now, I’m her favorite!”

  Corsica laughed, “That you are, Porter. We’re just passing through on a quick tour if you don’t mind.”

  The bushy-haired, sweaty man seemed quite pleased with the fact that he got to meet us on our way through the greenhouse. Corsica explained that this was one of five potato greenhouses that were all set on staggered harvest cycles. She also went on to explain that each greenhouse was thirty yards in length and eight yards in width. She warned that although most of the greenhouses had a ceiling height of three yards, there were some that were twice that height. Perhaps she brought that up because we were just about to enter the third greenhouse which indeed had very high ceiling.

  This third greenhouse was devoted to a half dozen orange trees, two lime trees, and four lemon trees. When I stood beneath those healthy trees, I knew for certain that these people could do anything they set their minds to. We were essentially living on an oxygen-rich Mars, yet here I could simply reach up and pick a plump orange off this tree while my feet sunk into the lush dark green grass beneath me.

  I glanced over at Sydney who was scribbling frantically onto that notepad of hers. Perhaps she was now as confident as I was in these people.

  “Do you need a moment?” Corsica asked, pausing beneath the tree.

  “Yes, please,” Sydney’s brow had settled low while she concentrated on her writing.

  I pointed outside the greenhouse toward the steel pipe rising up from the ground. Perched atop that pipe was a six-foot by ten-foot flat object angled slightly toward the west.

  “I noticed those things situated randomly outside of the greenhouses. Are those some form of radar or weather monitoring objects?” I asked.

  Corsica shook her head, “From down here you can’t tell, but you would have recognized them if you saw them from above. They’re solar panels. We derive a hundred percent of our energy from solar and wind power. At the top of this range, we have sixty-two wind mills and they are always spinning at such a height.”

  “Amazing!” I breathed.

  “What’s more amazing is when you realize that we are still producing more power than we need. If we doubled the size of our city, we’d still have enough power to keep it going. It’s why we have dance parties and film festivals every weekend. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that your ship is already plugged into our power supply.”

  “Seriously?” Sydney tilted her head toward us, “You think they hooked us up to an external power source?”

  “At the very least! You might be using our water as well,” she said.

  “Why would they do that if they’re not happy to have us here?” I asked.

  “We are happy to have you. It’s just that grumbling minority that speaks the loudest. That’s how it’s been through all of history. Don’t listen to them.”

  Sydney seemed to ponder that for a moment, then returned her attention back down to her notepad. I knelt down and raked my fingers through the thick grass.

  “How deep are these roots and to what extent do you need to go to maintain these trees at such a healthy level?” Sydney asked, sounding as though she were interviewing Corsica.

  “The roots most likely extend about six or seven feet down if I had to guess. And we manufacture our own fertilizer which is mixed into the water supply of this particular greenhouse,” she replied, “And yes, before you ask, we have to mow the grass in here every week due to the fertilizer.”

  “Do you have other greenhouses dedicated to trees?” I asked as I rose up from the ground.

  “Yes, we have another one solely dedicated to oranges and tangerines and two other greenhouses for apple and pear production. Also, you might appreciate this – we have a greenhouse split in half with raspberry bushes on one side and blueberry bushes on the other. Those are embedded into the Inglenook soil like the trees are,” Corsica said.

  “Really? Interesting,” Sydney said.

  “Yeah, but first, let me show you how we grow enough wheat and rye to sustain a village of over six hundred people.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  She brought us through a tunnel that led us back inside the mountain. We eventually found another T-shaped stone passage which again offered stairs at two opposite ends. And as before, the other passage would most likely take us deeper into the mountain.

  Without further direction or explanation, Corsica simply led us down the hall and then up the stairwell which brought us directly into the center of a greenhouse. This greenhouse, however, appeared to be significantly larger than the others we’d seen.

  “The three greenhouses on this level are each about twice the size of the ones you just passed through. Still thirty yards in length, but twenty yards wide. And all three are devoted solely to wheat,” she said, “Now, I think you might want to get out the notepad again.”

  So began the most boring hour of my entire life. While we passed through a dozen or so greenhouses, Corsica explained how they manufactured their fertilizers from compost, earthworms, and human waste. She also educated us on how they created a surplus of seed to ensure the survival of future generations.

  Corsica droned on and on while Sydney scribbled continuously into that notepad of hers. It was clear that my wife was completely engaged and probably having the time of her life while I was about to lose my mind.

  Then it was like I was brought back to the land of the living when Corsica invited us to visit the heart of the city. We had only experienced about half the existing greenhouses by the time of the invitation, but it seemed that Sydney had all the information she needed for the time being. So while the sun began to descend in the west, we were finally permitted to join the real world.

  Sydney folded the notebook in half and then tucked it into my back pocket before taking my hand in hers and kissing me on the cheek. I felt her breath on my ear as she whispered a ‘thank you’.

  “Why? What’d I do?” I turned to her, those beautiful lips just inches from my own.

  “You didn’t complain even though I know you were bored.”

  “What would it have accomplished?” I asked while we traversed the long stone corridor that promised to bring us to the city.

  “Nothing at all, but you didn’t know that,” she grinned.

  That was just before Corsica opened the door that brought us to a balcony overlooking the massive subterranean city. I gasped, never truly comprehending the city’s enormity until now. We were situated five or six stories above the street level.

  I held onto the decorative metal railing as I
looked down at one of the elevated walkways that offered access into the chiseled level beneath us. That winding walkway led from our ‘building’ to the fifth floor of the tallest central building. There were decorative light posts situated about every five feet along the elevated paths throughout the enormous cavern. I felt Sydney sidle up close to me.

  “It’s a real testament to human ingenuity. It’s beautiful,” Sydney breathed.

  “So, it doesn’t make you furious like before?” I chuckled as I nudged her with my hip.

  “Hey, I’ve still got a lot of bitterness toward the ancestors of these people,” she said, “But it doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate this.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” I said, noticing just then that Corsica was gesturing for us to follow her.

  She was several yards to the left of us, causing my eyes to follow the length of the balcony. This balcony evidently ran the full length of this side of the building. Metal lamp posts rose from the railing about every six feet. Atop each lamp post, the glass globes glowed a bright yellowish hue. Sydney and I started toward her, noticing metal doors embedded into the stone façade to our left. We passed up two of those doors, then we stopped at the third doorway where Corsica had been waiting for us.

  “Welcome to my humble abode,” she said, holding the door open and gesturing us in.

  We moved past her and made our way into her home. The first thing to catch my attention was just how smooth the walls and ceilings were. If I didn’t know they were made of stone, I could have easily assumed they were constructed from that ordinary plaster and sheetrock found in any buildings back on Earth.

  A decorative light fixture hung from the ceiling in the living room, offering an abundance of light to the nicely furnished room. Corsica closed the door behind us, then she seemed to watch us as we looked around the room.

  “This is one of our many pre-contributor residences designed for a married couple in waiting,” she said, gesturing toward the arched doorway on the far wall, “Over there is our bedroom with an adjacent bathroom. To the right is the eat-in kitchen, and this, of course, is the living room.”

  “This is nice,” Sydney said, turning to Corsica just then, “Though it seems to me that you contribute a lot to this society. Why would you be considered a pre-contributor?”

  “Well, pre-contributor refers to a couple who wish to have children but aren’t allowed yet. My husband and I have been on the list for almost ten years now. We’re still anxious for the day when we get that call,” she smiled warmly.

  I shook my head, “I can’t imagine being forced to abide by the government’s demands on population control.”

  “It’s a necessity for our ensured survival, though,” she defended, “Imagine where we’d be if there weren’t any population controls in place.”

  “If there weren’t any, you’d do what all societies have ever done. You’d adapt and grow as the population grows,” Sydney argued, “Think about it. When I was a child, it was forecasted that all the traffic on two of our major freeways would be in a permanently congested state within fifteen years. What those forecasters forgot was that in my grandparent’s time, those were four-lane freeways. Then in my parent’s time, they had been expanded to five-lane freeways. And then by the time those fifteen years had passed, a new freeway bypass was created, relieving a lot of the traffic on that particular five-lane freeway. Necessity, while also having more population to contribute, always makes a way to overcome.”

  “Heck, if there hadn’t been population controls in place all this time, your Bio-Dome might have already been in existence by now,” I added as I looked over at Sydney.

  She pointed to me and nodded, “See, I told you I married myself a good man. That’s exactly what we’d see today. We’d probably have landed the Frontier on a world with thousands of citizens and several giant Bio-Domes.”

  “So, you’re going so far as to suggest that we are hindering ourselves by monitoring population growth?” Corsica almost sounded offended as she asked this question.

  “Honestly, yes I do. Please don’t take offense. Imagine for a moment: Me and Cuttar trapped inside the confines of our ship while still up in space, for instance,” she began, “And let’s say I got pregnant. By necessity, we’d gather up some stuff to make diapers and we’d start conserving juices and the various powdered milks. Once the baby came, we’d make room and start monitoring all food and water. If it eventually became evident that we wouldn’t have a way to provide for that child indefinitely, we’d simply have to begin exploring other options. One way or another, that child would survive. It’s just the way we’re wired.”

  The room was silent for a moment after Sydney finished sharing her quite imaginative scenario. I couldn’t tell whether Corsica was upset or simply uncomfortable. I wasn’t familiar enough with her to get an accurate reading.

  “Okay, listen…” Corsica said, then she paused and started to shake her head as she turned her attention to the floor.

  “What is it?” I asked, wondering where the leader was who had just showed us around the greenhouses.

  I glanced over at Sydney. She merely shrugged. I was about to say something when Corsica spoke.

  I’m just going to come out with it – with why I brought you here,” she gestured around the room, “Daryl and I don’t have much as you can see. And the majority of what you see here are a bunch of things we can even leave behind. I’m about to be forty in a few months and I’m running out of time. What would you think about the idea of letting us join your separate nation inside that ship of yours?”

  “What? I’m confused! You don’t really even know us,” Sydney backed up a step as she seemed to examine her, “And what do you mean ‘running out of time’?”

  “I’m running out of my prime childbearing years, yet we’ve not been authorized to have children yet. And we really want to have children. If I’m not supporting a family by the time I’m fifty, I’m to be cast off. But if you were to-”

  “Cast off?” Sydney blurted, her face immediately turning red and shifting to that familiar anger that truly frightened me, “What’s that mean?”

  Corsica held her hand out to ward off that terrifying wife of mine, “It’s considered to be a voluntary measure, but the person really has no choice. In a community of such a limited population, everyone knows one another fairly well. They would also be well aware if you were a childless fifty-one year old man or woman who was still hanging around and preventing someone else from having children. It’s best to simply leave than it is to be the recipient of all the angry stares from those hurting people who want children.”

  “You mean to tell me that they force you to do the suicidal act of leaving this place only to wander in the lifeless desert wasteland?” I gasped.

  “It makes sense! Don’t restrict yourselves by the thinking of an Earth-based society. At the age of fifty, I won’t be having children and if I don’t already have any children of my own to take care of, what purpose do I really serve?” she asked.

  “What purp… wh- wha- WHAT?” Sydney shouted as she started toward Corsica, “You’re the Head of Greenhouse Agriculture! You keep these people alive with what you do every single day – no matter your age!”

  Corsica was backing away from Sydney, probably misreading her anger.

  “It’s just the way of things. Please don’t hurt me!” Corisca bumped into me as she hadn’t been watching where she was going.

  “Hurt you?” Sydney stopped near the end table, realizing that she’d scared Corsica, “Listen, if this is the way of this disgusting world, then we need to do something. Granted, we’re not going to change these people if they believe this process has worked for them all this time. You want to join our nation? So be it! As a matter of fact, I want you to find some others who aren’t satisfied with the rules and traditions here. There are twenty suites on our ship and we’re only using two of them currently. And… and… listen, Corsica. I might have already figured something out jus
t from our discussions earlier and the notes I’ve taken. Seriously! We can do this, but… Listen, here’s the plan…”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  We quickly made our way back to the ship, only pausing twice to explain ourselves to curious citizens along the way. It seemed that the people we bumped into along the way didn’t like the idea of us returning to our ship. Nevertheless, we found our ship inside the enormous hangar and it appeared to be in the same condition we had left it.

  We unlocked the outer airlock door and then finally returned home to my utter relief. Up until that moment, I had felt like the star victim in a horror movie. I had even worried for a while that I might not actually escape the living nightmare inside that mountain. Once we made our way through the other inner hatch and into the main corridor, Sydney spun around and crashed into me. Her arms clamped around my waist as she pressed her face into my neck. Perhaps she had been feeling the same way I had.

  “Hold me and don’t let go,” she breathed, “Tell me we can really do this – even if you don’t believe your own words. Say it.”

  “We can do this, Sydney. And the reason why we can is because you’re not going to be doing this all alone. I’ll be there the whole time and I’m confident we’re going to have many others,” I leaned back against the wall, holding her tightly.

  “Do you really believe that?” she pleaded.

  “Every moment you’ve been awake on this side of the galaxy, you’ve been constantly amazing me. I have no doubt in your skills, your plans, and your leadership. Whether you ravage me in bed or not, I’m a loyal follower all the way. I truly believe in you, Sydney.”

  She chuckled, then kissed me on the neck, “I do owe you a ravaging, don’t I? I saw you cringe at every F-word I used earlier today. I know how you feel about the language I use and I’ll try to get it under control. But for all that I put you through, I’ll give you something you’ll never forget.”