Sometimes the creative mind has a mind of its own and it ends up lining up with something relevant unexpectedly. This is one of those times. I scribble out a little Sci-Fi idea earlier this week, and not a day later, came across the
Arizona State University 2016 Climate Fiction Short Story Contest. At first I had to check my web history to make sure I hadn't subconsciously skipped over it while scrolling through my various writing news feeds, emails, or social media, but to my delight, most certainly had not.
I re-read what I had scribble down earlier in the week and decided that it was definitely on the right track already, and have started to run with it and see where it ends up. It's beautiful timing for the writing contest to pop-up, as I am currently looking for my next work adventure, and have free time to fill with writing and reading. It's double so as I wanted to more research on climate change for general knowledge anyways. I figure, if I'm going to be creating worlds that change with the ebb and flow, I should have a good understanding of how a world can change over time from a scientific perspective.
So, today I sat down at my usual coffee shop office and got to work researching and expanding on the bit I had written already. Here's what I have so far:
We thought we could
escape all our problems if we could just reach the stars. Interstellar flight
was the key to our future. It would bring us closer together as a whole;
provide us with endless potential, and the brightest of futures.
The first Generation Ship
launched to a staccato of cheers and verbalized fears for the loved ones being
lost to Earth forevermore. That was a hundred and sixty years ago. Twenty years
later, Earth was entering the final stages of a massive climate change. A new
ice age had begun to encase the equator to the dismay of scientists and
theorists alike. They couldn't understand how they could have been so wrong
about how the Earth works after so many centuries of constant study. To me,
that's the beauty of life in this universe. For everything we think we know,
there are ten things that surprise us.
A massive exodus from
Earth was inevitable. There simply wouldn't be enough space for the remaining
populace to relocate to the polar circles and although the technology to build
subterranean living shelters was advanced enough, no preparation had been made
to counter nature's wrath.
Of the nearly eight
billion people that called Earth home, seven remained surface side. Best
estimates for the remaining ships already built or being built in orbit, could
house another five hundred million people. The Mars and Moon colonies could
take another two hundred and fifty million each if they put all their efforts
into expanding living and agriculture domes. That left nearly six billion souls
to fight for survival as the remaining population attempted to cram as many as
they could into the polar circles while maintaining adequate sustainable food,
water, and waste management systems. To say it was ugly would be putting it in
the most positive light possible.
Over the next ten years,
nearly half of the remaining Earthers died of exposure or in the fighting that
broke out over who would get to live in the polar circles. Fanatical groups
that were pro-apocalypse sprung up in ever increasing numbers and frequency. By
the time the last seven generation ships were ready to leave orbit, only two
billion people remained surface side. My grandparents were two of them, and
they were the remaining leaders of the southern polar circle.
~*~
Icy winds bucked and rocked the supply shuttled as it flew across the
frozen tundra that was now mid-western Canada. An alert klaxon warned that the
turbulence was at dangerous levels and a small display panel next to it
indicated the new recommended safe flying altitude. Denton Weaver flipped the acknowledgement
switch to register his confirmation of the warning with home base, and punched
in the new altitude on his flight panel. The giant thruster engine located at
the back of the shuttle above the cargo bay door ramp whined as it accelerated,
and the polymetal frame protested slightly as the flight computer directed the vessel
up to the new height.
Denton leaned back into his cozy contoured pilot seat and poured himself
a fresh cup of coffee from his thermos into the lid. No matter how many times
he made this supply run, he couldn’t get used to the extra chill that bit
through the sidewalls of the shuttle when flying over the Ice Belt that now
encased the entire equator of the planet. Steam rolled off the coffee in vivid
dancing lines, and the smell of the brew was as fresh as if he had just brewed
it a moment before. As he took a sip he flicked the heat dial to max with his
other hand. The setting sun to the west was his only companion on this trip
besides his emergency droid harnessed in its docking station inset in the hull
ten feet behind him. It blazed through the small cockpit windows as it danced
off the endless ice that traversed the horizon to meet its decent.
Despite all the technology advancements in the past hundred years, the
shuttle trip still had a round-trip count of twelve hours before adding on the
loading and unloading procedures. There wasn’t a ton of trade between the
Northern and Southern Circles, but they maintained the essential supplies trade
routes as much as weather would permit. Orbital jumps were simply too expensive
on the remaining resources left accessible to the Earthers, and was only used
when absolutely necessary.
Other than these few trade routes and their shuttles, the only other
resources coming into or going out of the colonies came in the form of supply
drops from the Galactic colonies on Mars and the Moon. It was rare that
anything would be sent back with the small team of Droppers.
Denton found it hard to imagine that there was nothing out there as he watched the white-blue landscape rush by far below. He had video clips and
pictures aplenty from his family of the time before the ice. The world was
completely unrecognizable to anyone left alive that remembered it any other
way. His mind wandered to thoughts of what he would do if his shuttle ever went
down, but quickly shook himself out of it. That was a dangerous train of
thought to allow on a solo supply run. Although it was rare that it could
happen, the fact remained cemented in the back of his mind that it could. The
company archives were littered with stories about the crashes that had occurred,
some recovered, others observed during a passing flight came across the half buried
wreckage on the horizon after the ice storms had abated enough to continue running the routes.
He hated the cold, but the money was good, and it was better than doing
an essential duties job that was all too common but necessary for the Polar
Circles to be maintained. Two billion people crammed into roughly a tenth of the
livable space previously available and entirely brand new as far as ecosystems
go. The one saving grace was the Svalbard Global Seed Vault that had been
established on the old Norwegian island of Spitsbergen in the Svalbard Arctic Archipelago
about 1,300 kilometers from the North Pole back when the earliest signs of
global change began.
The seed vault had provided the foundation for the revitalization of
food crops lost to the ice belt, including the coffee he now enjoyed. The polar
circles had shifted to mostly tropical climes, and a great deal of engineering
went into maximizing crop growth within vertical farm pillars. These consisted
of a central column with jutting greenhouses that looked like leaves branching
off of a plant stem. Solar glass doubled as the primary source of energy
production for the colonies within each polar region, and the grid could
sustain well in excess of the demands.
Thoughts? Feedback? Input of any kind? Let me know what you think.