‘I thought this paper version might be more familiar to you. A woman in a nearby community is very keen on making these old volumes.’ Paula smiled at me. ‘However,’ she continued, ‘to précis the events, about fifty years after you, well, you left your time, around the mid 2050s, there was a crisis which did lead to much strife, many small but terrible wars and a great deal of suffering.’
‘Right. I suppose that was bound to happen,’ I said, realising that if I’d stayed where I belonged I might well have experienced this calamity.
Paula leant forward and rested her substantial arms on the table. ‘It was not a single thermonuclear war as I believe was often expected, but many hundreds of small conflicts. It was a very dark period. The wealthy nations suffered just as much as the poor, the whole supply system collapsed, the oil extraction industry finally disintegrated – they were simply unable to supply the demand. The price of crude oil went so high it choked itself and the global industrial sector ground to a halt. Governments became unable to govern.’
Paula sat looking into her tea for a while. I realised then that I was sitting on the edge of my seat, concentrating with more effort than I could remember doing for a long time.
‘So who did govern?’ I asked impatiently.
‘Sorry, yes, well, the big three took over the running of the countries they were most interested in.’
‘The big three, who were they?’
‘Moshchnost, BipTic and Greywater. The big three corporations. I suspected you might have heard of them. All incredibly wealthy and powerful.’
‘Wow, I’ve heard of Moshchnost, the Russian gas people. Who are the other two?’
‘Well, let me see. BipTic was a company that started here originally, although it was said to be owned by a Chinese corporation. British Independent Parking Tickets was the original formation; it was a Christian fundamentalist corporation made up of a great many previous companies – there is detail about its formation and ethos in the volume,’ she said, patting the big book on the table between us. ‘I didn’t write that chapter so my knowledge is limited. I do know they slowly expanded and took over all forms of transportation, not only the management but even the production of transportation systems.’
‘BipTic,’ I said. ‘What a rubbish name.’
Paula smiled briefly. ‘Greywater was a corporation that started out in security but took over banks, financial institutions, several countries and just about all the energy supplies that BipTic and Moshchnost didn’t control. They had their own armies, their own private systems of administration. They wanted to govern the world and for a while they succeeded. But instead of nations going to war, the corporations did. Moshchnost started a corporate invasion of Western Europe, not a military one, but it eventually descended into a para-military situation. This resulted in total chaos and a further breakdown of international relations. After a few years of sponsored governance as it was called, corporations proved themselves uniquely unable to cope, and in 2079 they rapidly collapsed in a mire of debt and dysfunction.’
‘2079,’ I said with a smile. ‘A hundred years after I was born.’
Paula smiled at me and nodded. ‘I won’t pretend to know what that must be like,’ she said gently.
I shook my head for a moment, slowly leafing through the pages of human history I had somehow skipped. I wasn’t reading anything in particular; my eyes just skimmed over the dense text. I looked up at Paula.
‘It doesn’t feel possible that this is history,’ I said. The text on the page went blurred and, being as unconnected with my emotions as I must have been, it was only when I rubbed my eyes that I realised I was crying.
‘So much suffering,’ I said. ‘Over such a long time.’
‘Indeed, there were many hard years and many people suffered unenviable fates.’
I sniffed and Paula handed me a linen handkerchief. I looked at it for a moment. It was beautifully clean and pressed. I’d never blown my nose on a piece of cloth before; I’d only ever used tissues. I took a deep breath and had an impressive blow.
‘So how did you get to this?’ I gestured around the kitchen.
‘Well, I suppose once again we saw how human beings, when under pressure, are remarkably resourceful. Small communities had sprung up all over the world, operating outside the corporate system, effectively off the grid so to speak. People started producing their own energy on a large scale, partly due to being unable to obtain it through the big three.’
‘Sounds like it was total chaos.’
‘Oh, it was, but there are always pockets of peace, and the technology was well known by then. Cellular solar, wind, tidal and geo thermal plants came on line. In this country, the people took over the new grid as no one else was looking after it. BipTic, who had owned and controlled it, had disappeared, and it was rapidly falling into disrepair. They were lucky in that many of the former employees of BipTic shared the vision and used their undoubted expertise to reinvigorate the system. Slowly the power spread, the infrastructure was gradually increased and improved, and the crucial thing was that they distributed this energy free of charge.’
‘Free of charge! Why on earth did they do that?’
‘Well, they didn’t really have much choice. There was no economy to speak of – all the previously existing structures of banking, finance and corporate governance had slowly melted away. It is important to remember that we create energy without burning any form of fuel, Mr Meckler, which I know is a big change from your era. We capture energy that already exists, so other than the energy expended in creating and maintaining the capture systems, there is no other cost involved as such. I imagine understanding a nonecon model is very hard.’
‘Nonecon?’ I asked. The word just popped out, almost hidden in the flow.
‘That is what the system we live in has been dubbed. Nonecon, you aren’t familiar with the term?’
‘Um, no,’ I said.
‘Essentially it is a system of non-centralized governance which bases all transactions on energy expenditure. I suppose it’s an energy economy, but with the understanding that all forms of activity, human, biological, mechanical, either absorb or generate energy.’
‘Wow,’ I said. Something in this sounded vaguely plausible.
‘So,’ continued Paula, ‘some brave and far-seeing individuals gave away their power. This in turn meant that any last vestige of profit-making from power supply simply became impossible. I suppose people turned their attention elsewhere. It is now generally accepted that this supply of free power undermined what was left of the fiscally based exchange systems. People concentrated on supplying themselves with food to such an extent that the gardens grew. The gardens took over everything, not through some grand political strategy, just basic human need. We needed to feed ourselves.’
I laughed. ‘Are you telling me there was a gardening revolution and the gardeners won?’
Paula didn’t laugh, she didn’t even smile, she ignored my comment completely and continued.
‘No, there was no revolution, but when people are hungry and they see they can supply most of their own food, gardening becomes a very attractive option. So it was about a hundred years ago that this place, the place you knew by so many different names, the United Kingdom, Great Britain, England, this place became more commonly known as Gardenia.’
Paula waited for my response. I wanted to laugh: Gardenia? I managed to just smile. They renamed the country after a flower.
‘I considered you might find the name rather crass. I don’t think anyone named it thus; it just somehow came to be. While I might agree the name is a little immature, this country became a beacon in a blighted world. People travelled from all over the globe to study here, to learn our skills.’
I smiled. ‘You’ll hopefully forgive me if I say this all sounds a little ridiculous. Truly, people came from a
ll over to see how the British did something?’
Paula nodded and smiled gently.
‘Sorry, I mean the Gardenians, blimey. Maybe it’s just me,’ I continued, ‘but I was always under the impression that we had become uniquely rubbish at doing anything innovative. All the skilled people I knew who came from here had to work elsewhere, unless they were bankers.’
This time Paula’s smile broadened and she raised her large eyebrows a little. ‘That may well once have been the case, but I think you’ll find that has changed now. There is no question that we do hold a very special place in the world. We’ve had no wars, no strife or social unrest for over one hundred years. We are completely self-sufficient for food, energy and all the resources we need to maintain our lives.’
‘How can you be? I mean, this is England. The weather is lousy, what about oranges, what about, I don’t know, out of season strawberries?’
‘Well, there’s no denying we are very blessed; we have adequate rainfall in the northern half of the country. The south-east is mainly arid, but here we grow a lot of subtropical plants, plus we have the infrastructure to conserve water. We have a temperate climate most of the time although our summers are now much hotter than you would have known. We grow oranges. All along the south coast are very large orange groves, and grapevines of course. But even here, in our glasshouses we grow pineapple, kiwi and many other types of tropical fruit. We have large nut groves, hardy fruit orchards, berry groves as well as more common root vegetables, grains and pulses. We grow anything and everything here.’
I sat looking out of the window in silence for a moment. Eventually I shook my head and said, ‘Wow.’
‘One hundred years, Mr Meckler,’ said Paula seriously. ‘That’s how long we have been struggling to make this frail system work. It won’t last for ever, we all know that, but for now, we have reached a sustainable equilibrium between people and nature. We garden the whole country, we look after it, we waste nothing, we hoard nothing, we take nothing from people less well off than ourselves. A little different from your era, I would suggest.’
‘You’re not kidding,’ I said. My mind was racing with questions; I didn’t know where to start. It sounded bonkers but from what I’d seen of the new world I was in, it seemed to be plausible. But then I shook my head. How could it possibly work? People are stupid and greedy and they mess things up.
‘But when you say you have no government, no army, no police, I mean, what about crime?’
Paula smiled at me again, which was becoming mildly annoying.
‘What about a murderer or rapist, what about bloody paedophiles, or is that all cool now in your hippy-dippy liberal laissez-faire world? I mean, what about basic human nature, what about prisons?’
‘I admire the way your mind works, Mr Meckler. In one sentence you connect the concept of basic human nature with prisons. Again, the word prison would not be commonly used today and many people you might speak with would not know what you were referring to. However, I think we could agree, human nature encompasses such traits as co-operation, tolerance, empathy, kindness, the desire to be accepted. Now, it would be idiotic not to also state that under the right circumstances human nature can lead to violence, selfishness, cruelty and brutality, but we have now discovered beyond all argument that if the society a person grows up in functions well, if children are raised well within a loving supportive community, people are very unlikely to commit a crime. I’m not saying this as some kind of intellectual theory; this is proven by practice. And after all, there is nothing to steal, there are no impediments to ownership because fundamentally there is nothing to own.’
I stared at her. I picked up a spoon that was beside my cup.
‘Well, whose is this?’
‘It doesn’t belong to any one individual, Mr Meckler,’ smiled Paula.
I put the spoon in my pocket. ‘Okay, so now it’s mine.’
Paula laughed richly; this was the first time I’d seen her so much as chuckle.
‘Is it?’ she asked. ‘Very well. From now on, that spoon is yours.’
‘But I’ve stolen it. I’ve taken it from the community or whatever this is. Now no one else can use it. Doesn’t that fact make a mockery of the whole thing?’
‘Not in the least,’ she said without alarm. ‘For a start, one of the people that lives here is a dab hand at making cutlery and she enjoys doing it, so she’ll make another. Secondly, I know you will feel bad about the spoon sooner or later and you will give it back. No one is going to do anything about it. You aren’t going to be confined because you put a spoon in your pocket; it’s just not important enough.’
Paula sipped her tea. She pushed the plate of pastries toward me.
‘Steal one of those; they are delicious.’
I smiled. I took a pastry and bit into it. It was of course utterly delightful and clearly very freshly baked.
‘Now,’ said Paula, ‘it is entirely possible that someone of a disturbed disposition could come into this kitchen, someone from outside our immediate community, and they could steal all our spoons or cups, or walk out with all our chairs. There are no locks on the doors, so it could easily be achieved. However, there isn’t a house in the land that has no cup or no chair, and many people, especially the younger generations, would prefer to make their own cups and chairs, so there really is no incentive to steal. I’m not saying serious crime never happens; people still get emotionally stressed, we have murders, rapes, violent assault, but looking at the statistical data from your era, nothing like to the same degree.’
‘So there really are no prisons?’
‘No, we do have secure houses for people to live in who have made mistakes in their lives, but the numbers held within these places are very small.’
I was shaking my head all the way through this explanation, not so much in disagreement, more in disbelief.
‘It’s very hard for me to understand how this kind of non-system can work. And you also said there’s no banking system?’
‘No, not for many years.’
‘How do you pay for stuff then? I mean, who works out money, savings, borrowing, all that stuff.’
‘The simple answer is we don’t have money. We no longer use money.’
‘Okay, but do you have, kind of, online payment systems, a chip inserted in your forearm which keeps tabs on your accounts?’
Paula smiled. ‘Even with my extensive knowledge of your era of history, I barely know what you’re talking about. I don’t know how else to explain it other than there is no money. It strikes us as a most complicated and fraught way to conduct your life, being dependent on a belief system.’
‘What, like religion?’
‘Well, that as well. But no, I meant a belief system that encourages you to feel safe if you have some pieces of printed paper in your pocket, and unsafe if you don’t. We don’t have money, no one does, we don’t have chip inserts, and we don’t have wealth, not in any way you would understand it. We clearly are wealthy in our lives, and we are all very grateful for that. We are wealthy with time, the time we have to live. I would suggest that longevity is our new wealth. Time, Mr Meckler, time to really enjoy life and explore its wonders.’
Time. The wealth of time. Without question, time was one thing I’d always felt short of. I never had enough time to do anything; I was constantly in a rush, desperately trying to catch up, to do everything that needed doing. I suddenly realised at that moment I’d always been time poor.
‘We have time, like now. I have planting to do, weeds to pull out, compost to turn over, a book to write, messages to respond to, and yet I find time to sit and talk with you.’
I smiled. ‘I’m glad I’ve got time too. I need a lot of time.’
Paula put her enormous hand on mine. ‘That is one thing we can offer you, Mr Meckler. An abundance of time.’
9
I wound my way around the south side of the house, at all times surrounded by incredibly well-tended gardens. It seemed there was no corner unkempt, no pile of rubbish waiting to be cleared. It was obvious to me that people spent a lot of time looking after the place.
Time, that was the biggest difference – time and silence, no machine noises and no pressure to be somewhere, to do something, to meet a deadline imposed from outside.
I had spent most of the morning talking, well, mainly listening to Paula; she was a very good communicator, very calm and reassuring. I ended up with a thousand more questions than when I’d started, but I agreed to let her get back to her weeding and I’d save my questions up for later.
I passed through the gate I was sure I’d walked through the night before, and was mildly relieved when I realised I had entered the orchard; I remembered walking through that. As I passed by the neatly trimmed fruit trees I could hear a chattering noise, a pleasant tinkling of happy voices.
I saw a group of people at the end of a row of trees to my left, who appeared to be digging the soil with shovels. They were digging, chatting and laughing with each other. I noted my own rising cynicism: why were they so happy? Surely it was ridiculous. Digging dirt and laughing – what on earth was there to laugh about?
It was like they were too self-satisfied, not doubting enough. I found it mildly disquieting that they could live such obviously hard lives in such blind ignorance.
What had happened to technology? Why had these people reverted to medieval farming methods? Why didn’t they have automated hydrogen powered farm machinery to do the digging for them?
I stopped and pondered for a moment. My reaction was something I’d felt had been growing inside me for the past few years. The years before I went through the cloud. It struck me when I saw people partying, laughing with each other or driving big inefficient cars that I was anxious. Not because I wanted to be at those parties, or because I wanted to own a big inefficient car, but because we were so obviously living in a fool’s paradise. The thing was, calling it a fool’s paradise makes it sound as if my era was a bit pokey and rubbish. But it was a kind of paradise; it was really good. Amazing things like planes that took you to the other side of the world, food from countries thousands of miles away, cheap food too. An abundance of choice everywhere you looked, amazing communications systems, films, TV, the internet. All things I’d become reliant on, all now gone, so it seemed.
News from Gardenia Page 7