800 words
Beth Avery
Dieselpunk
Garrett came in and set the twig on the kitchen table, its
photocells slowing fading from a bright yellow green to a dull yellow. He sat
down with a heavy thump before he glumly gave me his report.
“The trees are getting ready to move from the south acre,
and the east acre is only at eighty percent for its nitrogen levels.” He
fiddled with the dying twig instead of meeting my gaze. I wrung out my dishrag
and set my hand on his shoulder. The barren land that ringed our house was only
500 yards wide. A full grown mechnaoak
could cross it with ease if resources away from our home were too tempting. We
would have to get the east acre to full fertility soon or lose our trees.
“Did you splice the break?” I asked. A dead twig like the one on the table could
disrupt the whole circuit of the tree.
Not only could we not afford to lose a tree, but a dead companion
usually caused the whole herd to move to more welcoming regions.
Garrett stood up and grabbed the tool bag. “Could you do it,
Amelia? You have more success with this than I do. Last time I gave myself a shock that knocked
me three yards back. It’s Number
Four. I’ll go with you to show you the
break. We probably should get it done
now.” He seemed to realize suddenly that he’d made a mistake by taking the time
to come in and tell me instead of fixing the break immediately. Leaving a gap in a mechnaoak’s circuitry was risky.
I nodded and went to the entry to get my insulator gloves with the thick rubber
fingers.
Garrett stood ready to resuscitate me if I made a mistake,
but it was just a gesture. I never made
a mistake with the trees. Since biodiesel sap oozed from the break in the bark,
this job was more than just repairing the circuitry. The flashpoint of the oily
sap was too high to start a full fire, but the sap could heat up enough to make
it too hot for me to work. Donning my
gloves, I carefully spliced the sap tubes and removed the sticky fluid before I
turned my attention to the slender wires that powered the tree’s mechanical
systems. The wood around the wires was
organic, but the sap that kept it alive was pumped using the power from its
electrical system. I needed to fix the
wires before the wood began to die. I
examined my pliers to make sure there were no breaks in their rubber coating
before I gently teased the wires away from the wound in the tree’s bark and
directed them back into the river of electricity coursing through the tree’s
trunk. A few taps with the soldering
wand, and the circuit was completed without further incident.
Garrett followed me as I went from tree to tree, noting the
slight decrease in the intensity of the greenness
of the photoleaves, a clear sign that meant the trees had nearly depleted this
field’s nutrients. The thick cables that
siphoned electricity from the trees to the house would not work as a tether if
the massive mechanoaks choose to leave us.
They would churn the earth with their iron pipe roots and plow across
the barren of alkaline soil until they reached the rich fields of our more fortunate
neighbors, leaving us exposed and helpless. If we couldn’t coax them into
moving to the east field, we would lose our protection from the wind and the
sun along with losing the house’s source of energy. Even though our mechnaoaks didn’t produce
food as well as shelter and energy, we could not survive without them. The nitrogen that fed their organic system
had to be found or we would die. Heaving
a sigh, I turned to Garrett.
“I can give a pint, and we’ll probably have to take some
from the children too. Three of the
goats can be leeched for at least a pint.
We’ll get some bloodmeal out of that. We emptied the waste tanks last
month, so there’s not much in them, but hopefully it will suffice if we put it
through the rapid cycle composter.” I squeezed his hand. With an air of confidence that I did not
truly have, I said firmly, “We’ll be alright.
The trees will stay.”
As the midday sun reached its full strength, a million
photoleaves expanded above us, converting the sun’s rays into electricity and shielding
us from the blinding light that filtered through our herd’s canopy. The light was harmless by the time it reached
us, and we were careful to stay under the blanket of dappled shade as we made
our way back to the house.
