By Conor Burrell
“Hey Dad! Dad!”
I snap back to reality as I stood on my patio, facing the street. I nearly knocked over my fresh cup of coffee as I turned to face my daughter, Luna.
“Look how I decorated my bag!” Luna exclaimed.
Her backpack was painted in a beautiful vibrance of green and blue, with yellow and red birds sitting on top of flowers.
“I used them as inspiration.” Luna pointed up into the willow tree by the street. There, two birds sat in their nest.
“Looks beautiful kiddo, you may just turn into quite the artist like your mom! Now run along and eat your breakfast. You don’t want to be late,” I responded. As Luna ran back inside, I stood up and took a deep breath of the fall breeze that descended from the bright blue morning sky. Since the introduction of alternative fuels and nuclear power, any form of smog had dissipated for the most part. I looked at our new car parked in the street: alternative fuel cell powered. I traded our electric car in as lithium-ion batteries had been phased out long ago.
As I walked through our front door, I locked eyes with my wife, Sam. She smiled at me and then at Luna as she gobbled down her eggs and purified water. Water purification and recycling had taken off in the past twenty or so years, making the stuff I used to drink back when I was young seem like sewage. I turn my head to the teleprompter, tensions between China and the United States had come to a level, each side prioritizing on renovating their societies so that each would have the capability to defend itself without fossil fuels, which had dried up years ago. However, we were prepared, and most major developed countries had already begun making the switch away from oil and gas. Messages about good news with the slowing of beach erosion in Cape Cod and Florida, the attempts at restoring reefs off the coast of Belize, major breakthroughs in nuclear as well as hydrogen tech all faded into a faint buzz in my head.
We need to make a trip to the Cape at some point, I thought to myself.
An alarm bell went off on the teleprompter reading, “Luna’s first day of 6th grade! Good luck!”
“C’mon kiddo let’s go! You don’t wanna be late for school!” I exclaimed excitedly. Sam walked over to us and kissed us both on the cheek.
“I am so proud of you, you’re killing kiddo!” Sam exclaimed.
We each held one of Luna’s hands as we walked out the front door, and the cool autumn breeze gently touched our cheeks. The gleaming reflection of the front yard solar panels shone just a little bit too bright for my liking. Sam and I hopped in the front seats of the car once Luna was strapped in, and we set off.
“I know it’s far away, but I honestly cannot wait for Christmas and the snow! I wonder how much snow we’ll get this year!” Luna asked excitedly.
A memory flashed across my sight as I remembered building a snowman as a kid. A big carrot for a nose and rocks for eyes and mouth. I smiled as this video in my mind played for me. I looked over to Sam, and she smiled back as we drove along. I caught Luna looking out the window into the conservation efforts being made in our city: planting of trees and plants, giving homes to animals in need, especially in the more rural areas slightly outside the city. I looked back at Luna, and I was filled with hope, hope that she would live a long time in a much better world that was being built.
A flicker of the light inside the car sent waves of adrenaline through my body. Something felt off. The bright colors of the world began to ooze and fade into a pastel mess as adult ringing got louder and louder. Sam and Luna’s faces began to melt like burning wax in front of my eyes. Then, I awoke.
The next few minutes of silence were interrupted by hyperventilating as my body searched for composure. I was in bed, and Sam was gone. I glanced over at the clock: six o’clock. I steadied my breathing, sweat now beading on my forehead as reality sunk back into place. “I better get things ready for Luna,” I said to myself as I rolled out of bed onto the worn and grated floor.
Getting clothes on, brushing teeth, everything felt like molasses. I slowly began making breakfast with what little food there was. “Looks like I’m skipping breakfast this morning,” I said to myself. With the remainder of the egg we have, I began to scramble for Luna. I looked beside my old coffee mug in the corner of the worn counter and saw a note, written by Sam. I let out a long-winded sigh as I drifted into thought once more. It was her turn to work the night shift for the week. We each worked overtime to scrape by enough for ourselves and our daughter.
“Luna! It’s time to get up, kiddo!” I yelled. I didn’t hear a response as the world droned on dully as I made my morning coffee.
“Dad! Hey Dad!”
Reality snapped back to me as I stood in the kitchen, and the coffee I was pouring began to overflow.
“Shit,” I muttered to myself as the dark brown droplets fell onto the yellow stained tiles of the floor.
“Look how I decorated my mask for this year!” Luna exclaimed excitedly.
I turned to face my daughter; she held her respirator up to me. Beautiful streaks of olive green and blue culminating in flowers flowed over the hardened frame of the mask. I instinctively checked the filter cartridge on the side. All clean.
“Looks beautiful, kiddo! Now finish your breakfast–we don’t want to be late for school!” I responded back.
“I used that as inspiration,” Luna pointed at the cracked picture of a willow tree that hung on the fridge. “I wish I could see one in real life.”
I frowned as I looked out the faded glass window to where a willow tree once stood many years ago. I looked on to the teleprompter as Luna gobbled down her eggs and juice. Juice was the drink of choice for kids these days; water purification is a shell of its former self, and attaining it was a big chunk out of our monthly paycheck. So, we learned to conserve. The teleprompter went on and on about record unemployment, Florida and parts of the east and west coast being underwater. This caused a memory to blot across my vision of my grandmother’s beach house and walking to the beach with my family, a memory that was literally underwater now as I saw it. More news detailing record shortages of oil, clean water, mass extinctions, tensions with China, and riots across the country faded into a distant buzz. I began to think about my dream. “So beautiful,” I whispered to myself.
“Huh?” Luna looked at me, wide eyes perked in curiosity.
“Uhhh nothing, I just… Daddy had a very strange dream.”
Luna frowned. “Me too.” Before I could answer, she already whipped around and began to pack her things.
Just another day, I thought to myself. An alarm bell went off on the teleprompter, reading “Luna’s first day of 6th grade! Good luck!”
“C’mon, kiddo, let’s get moving,” I say as I approach the door with Luna following right behind me. I looked behind my shoulder to make sure she had her respirator on; she did and gave me a thumbs up. I then checked my filter cartridge: all clean, as I put on my respirator and open the door.
I squeezed Luna’s hand as we walked out to the street where my car was parked. The sky was a dull yellow, the sun barely squeaking through the thick canvas covering of what remained of our world. Sweat formed on my brow just on the walk to my car. I got Luna strapped into her car seat, then walked around the car to the driver’s seat. I kicked trash out of the way, then opened and closed the door. The days of recycling and a centralized trash pickup were long gone. We were all just living on the corpse of our world. A vision streaked across my eyes as I remembered my friend and I building a snowman, a carrot for a nose and rocks for eyes and a mouth.
“What are you smiling at dad?” Luna asked from the back.
“Nothing kiddo,” I responded.
I switched on the car, the aging batteries and flickering lights finally came to life after a few seconds, and we started down the road. Who would’ve thought that a last-minute switch to an electric car, after being convinced by a salesman, would’ve left me one of the lucky ones. The oil and fuel industry collapsed ten years earlier with the major drying of all natural oil reserves. War was nearly started over the incident, until either side realized they did not have the infrastructure to fuel and wage such a war. So, each side, The United States and China mainly, raced to electrify their societies and war machines. This was nearly achieved, and war once again threatened all of humanity until the lithium reserves went dry as well. That, combined with the record number of hurricanes and death heat (formerly known as heat waves when they were survivable when I was young) had left both sides in a stalemate. The anxiety of what the hell I was going to do when my car’s batteries eventually gave out haunted me daily. I had no idea how I would get to work or get Luna to school. I closed my eyes and tried to let the thought pass.
One day at a time.
“I wish mom was here, too,” Luna exclaimed in a hollow and distant tone.
“I know, kiddo, but she has to work the nightshift this week. We need to be able to afford our clean water for the next month somehow,” I responded quickly, biting my lip, realizing that something like that should not be on a child’s mind on their first day of school.
As the car stuttered along, I saw Luna look out the window. Nearly all of the streets in the inner city were littered with homeless people: some with no masks, coughing up blood and gasping for any form of clean air. Fires and smoke littered the horizon. I looked back at Luna, and all I could feel was sadness, fear, and regret. Her life on this corpse of a world would never know any sense of peace.
