Earth Unifiers

By Shertease Wheeler:

  1: THE HOLDING–

I thought we’d only be here a few hours at max, and my nerves were barely hanging on the edge then. But those hours turned into days, and today I’m high on terror. I know the longer we’re held here without release, the worse it’s going to be for us.

Maura and I are only in holding because the Force Brigade detained our small crowd of peaceful protestors. It was our Earth Rights Rally, but we now stand with a charge of disturbance of the peace in Skahl. Skahl. The historically rich neighborhood with an older history of Earth depletion, mining, and disrespect of the natural connections humans share with the planet. Yet, it’s the only neighborhood in a 50-mile radius that has fully grown rooted trees, luscious green grass, and sweet fresh air; albeit all manufactured. Every other town in the vicinity is made up of cold, drab concrete, plastic stackable cube-homes, and let’s not forget the ever-present smog.

“Esat, what’s taking so long. Why are we still here?” Maura whispers. “It’s been two days already.”

“Shhh. I know, but be lucky,” I whisper back, barely moving my lips and staying motionless. “I’m hoping Shan’s still working on it and stalling them. We just need to avoid the Block at whatever cost.”

Her oversized short frame leans in close enough for me to feel it quivering. We stand in a corner among a group of over forty people, in a barred room no larger than my seventy square-foot-cube-home. I pretend to get comfortable, and slowly angle my body to cover hers as much as possible. Trained readers are everywhere and always watching. Body spies are what I call them. They read lips, body language, facial expressions and everything in between. They can easily spot two people with something to hide through the cameras perched in each corner of our cell. I don’t want anyone to see her fear, or mine frankly, and she’ll only reveal us both.

“Shan will come through.” Maura says, taking my cue and softly mumbling the words.

“I know he will. He has to.”

Shan is a friend, and works in the administrative office of the government. He’s also a covert member of Earth Unifiers, and who is more criminal than legal. He’s proven to be our buffer, and savior, time and again. It’s been working in our favor to have someone that knows how to work the system, and get away with it.

In the year of 2199, justice is swift and brutal, and more unfair than not. Petty crimes are often punishable by death on the Block; a steel reinforced concrete box just big enough to stand in – and be gassed. It’s a casket of sorts, set in the center of town as a reminder to all that life is precarious, so tread carefully. But it doesn’t deter, because there’s always a steady thin stream of smoke snaking up from the top. You’ll never see this on the media, though. Their tight reins make sure to depict an ideal and artificial world.

“Esat Rivers. Maura Harty!” A tall, and sturdily built guard stands at the entrance to the cell, arms crossed and drilling us with a callous expression. “On your feet and to the gate. NOW!”

I glance at Maura fearfully and see the fright returned in her widened honey brown eyes. Hesitantly, we step up to the gate as it’s being unlocked. Once open, the guard immediately pulls us through, and slips heavy, rusted metal collars around our necks. As the guard tightens the collar, it digs into my neck, and I notice adjoining cuffs attached to both sides that hang on short, thick chain links. The shackling isn’t over, because the guard then roughly takes my arms, crosses them over my chest, and fastens the cuffs around my wrists. Watching him do the same to Maura, I realize with dread just how essential the use of arms are for running.

Two more guards flank us and in single file, herd us through a row of similar holding cells, and down into a dank smelling corridor with bare, flickering light bulbs. We bypass the solid, grey doors on either side with their smalls windows and handles, and head straight for the ominous larger metal door at the end. The door looks to be without knobs, handles, hinges or windows. No way in. No way out.

I have experience with being in a holding cell, I’m surely not virginal to this. But it has never progressed beyond that. Shan is always so quick at getting us out that I’ve never been in holding long enough to be brought to this mysterious door. Oh, but I’ve heard about it. The torture, the disfigurement from those who come out of it, and wondering what became of those who didn’t. Which side will we be on today? Once we are through that door, there won’t be an easy way out.

My feet grow leaden with each step, like my body knows it’s headed toward imminent pain and death. I reach for Maura’s hand in our awkward, shackled position, and she grabs on tight. But the sweat from her hand seems to only magnify my own fears. I only have one hope now, and I pray all mightily to it. C’mon Shan, where are you?

In no time the large metal door is there, looming in front of us. A guard steps so close I think he’s going to walk through it. Instead, a thin white wire with a bulbous head unfurls from a small slotted window next to the door. It radiates a pale yellow light directly into the guard’s left eye, then slowly, the door slides open in revelation.

“No, no, NO. Please!” Maura whimpers, and tries to back away. Tears spring from her eyes the moment she glimpses what’s inside.  

“You don’t have to do this,” I pipe in, trying in vain to save our asses. “Can’t we come to some kind of agreement?”

Our pleading only seems to elicit snickering or angry glares from the guards. They shove us into the small, sterile room that holds two restraining chairs facing one another. A metal tray stands off to the side, full of sadistic instruments that gleam in anticipation.

“Shhh, shh, Maura. It’s gonna be ok. Be strong.” I sound pathetic, even to myself.

“Don’t lie to her, girl,” one of the guards says to me, laughing. “Trust me, it won’t be ok.”

Maura openly cries at this, and gives resistance when the guards try to force her in a chair. In exchange, they seize her arms, slam her down and tightly buckle the leather restraints around her wrists and ankles. They do the same to me, but less forcefully since I don’t resist. Maura’s chest heaves in and out, and though the tears are steadily flowing, the fire raging in her eyes threatens to boil them away. I try to feed off that fire, but inside, I’m in turmoil. Her increasing fear seems to propel her rebellious spirit, whereas mine is dampening. Where the hell is Shan? I think over and over, like a mantra, willing him to come to our immediate rescue. It’s unlike him to let us stay in holding this long without any communication. Something must be wrong.

–2: THE DIRECTOR’S DOMAIN–

“Well, well, well! Ms. Rivers and Ms. Harty. What a pleasure it is to have you both in my company today.”  

The Brigade’s Director strolls into the room, smiling insidiously, and reveling in his power over us. His starched black uniform is fitted, and the golden buttons lining the off-centered closure of his jacket shine in polished perfection. The deep-set lines criss-crossing his pale, hairless face, fade as they etch toward his bald head, and his thin lips, pursed and colorless, speaks to the ruthlessness of his demeanor. Though his words are conversational, his tone is laced with threats and dark promises. He circles us once like prey, then stops between us, assessing.

“So, I’ve been told you both are disrupting our peaceful way of living…again. It’s not enough for you to write and publish lies, but now you’re showing up in areas you don’t belong in. Is that right?”

“No, and there’s nothing’s peaceful about it!” Maura growls through gritted teeth. The anger flares brightly in her eyes. “We’re only giving people the information they need to survive.”

“Now, Ms. Harty, hasn’t President Truellow warned you against this false information your little project is spewing? Hmm?” The Director’s patronizing tone can only means worse things to come.

“Yea, but those in the Cubes don’t think it’s false–“

The Director draws back and slaps Maura across the left side of her face, hard. Blood flies from her mouth, coloring the grey concrete floor crimson. I see a row of small red gashes open up on her otherwise smooth dark brown cheek. I don’t immediately understand the cuts on Maura’s face, but then I see the Director’s gloved hand covered in sharp, metal spikes. He must’ve walked in wearing it.

I need Maura to shut up and try to hold on, and stay silent until Shan arrives; but I also don’t want to say anything and bring attention my way. Unless I absolutely have to.

“There, that’s better.” The Director smiles wide at her pain and pivots to me. “Now, what have you, Ms. Rivers? What information do you have for me, hmm?”

“I–I d–don’t have any.”

“You have something for me, Ms. Rivers. I know it.”

“No. I don’t.”

“What a pity then, isn’t it?”

He turns his face down in an exaggeratedly sad frown, and strides over to the metal tray. His sinister eyes penetrate mine in challenge, while he removes his spiked glove and rests it among the torture instruments. There is no emotion on his face when in one quick motion, he picks up a long, sharp and cruel looking blade, and brings the tip of it down through Maura’s right cheek, splitting her face open from ear to lip.

Her scream is long and piercing, and it turns my blood cold. It takes what feels like hours for the icy grip around my heart to thaw, and just as he turns on Maura again, I speak.

“Wait! I’ll tell you! Please, just stop!”

I pause, breathless from the rush of adrenaline, and try to think of something clever to say to stop him from going back for Maura.

“Well, Ms. Rivers?…”

“We’re not doing anything wrong. I swear! We’re a news outlet. We’re just sharing news about GM foods, and how it affects us. That’s all.”

Not very clever, but this small truth shouldn’t hurt us.

“And how does it affect us Ms. Rivers, hmm?”

I pause again, trying to think of a good enough lie, and the Director starts to make stiff, calculated steps around Maura. The intimidation burns away any courage I can to muster.

“I–It’s been t–taking us, our chemical composition, further away f–from the tethering of Earth.”

I can’t do this. I’m not prepared for this.

“Ms. Harty, is this true?” The Director stops and looks at Maura with eyebrows raised.

“…Yes.” Maura answers scornfully.

“Ms. Harty, tell me more about this…chemical composition. What does it do?”

He stands directly behind Maura, and in a perverse patronly way, begins to smooth back her mud brown tightly coiled hair. She shrinks in her chair, eyes going wide in fear at his touch, and her bloody lip trembles. She looks at me, silent tears mixing into her blood, and I see the resolve solidify in her eyes.

This isn’t something we can divulge to the authorities, yet, for obvious fear of a permanent silencing.

Maura is the principal scientist in discovering the proof that humans have an inextricable and chemical bond with the planet, and if broken, creates ultimate, slow death of our species. With utter certainty, she can show the effects of these lab foods on the human body, from cancers that attack all the organs at once, to heart failure and gene deformity. Every bite we take is an irreversible harm to our internal organs. The animals we eat are no longer born, they are assembled in labs. The bees are long dead, and whole species have gone extinct in just a matter of years, taking with them many of our luscious fruits, nuts, and grains.

GM foods are big business for monopolies and the embarrassingly affluent .05%, but does nothing but slowly kill everyone else. Those in Skahl can afford to eat real food and have clean air, but the rest of us in rundown cube-city neighborhoods, we get scraps of the scraps. The more we eat the GM foods, the more our connection to the planet and each other grows weaker, and our psyche more manic. It’s the reason for the increased violence. It’s the reason our society is in the bowels of hell.

I beg Maura with my eyes not to say anything – to keep doing a better job than I am at courageousness. But her eyes dart from side to side, and she’s too slow to respond. The Director notices our silent communication and stops stroking her hair abruptly, looking back and forth from her to me. My adrenaline induced hands manically tries to  claw the restraints loose. In two paces, he’s at the metal table exchanging the knife for a jagged set of shears, and he sets his sights on me this time. The drum of my heart is so uncontrollable I can hear the blood rushing in my ears.

I don’t know what to do, and the restraints aren’t budging. I can’t surely tell him everything, because he’ll just kill us anyway, and nothing will ever get out! Where the fuck is Shan?

Sweat trickles into my eyes, and I smell my own fear – a mixture of onion, sweet floral perfume and salt. I do my best to mentally prepare for the intense pain I know is coming. Then the Director descends on me, violently lifting my right pinky finger and setting the shears at the base of my knuckle.

“Ms. Harty, before I cut off Ms. Rivers’ tiny little pinky finger, would you mind answering my question?”

His innocuous tone sets my teeth chattering, and I close my eyes in preparation. Not two seconds pass before I feel a pinch, then an agonizing pressure. At the sound of a bone cracking, a giant, searing burst of pain enters my hand. The pain intensifies when I look down and see my tawny brown finger with its unpolished nail, lying there, bloody. My hand throbs, and I scream and writhe in my seat as the pain snakes up my arm and rides my whole body. Maura’s eyes go wide and she draws back, but remains stoically silent.

“I see there’s a little fight in you two yet.” The Director stands back with his hand on his chin, chuckling and marveling at his work, and calculating his next move. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Before he has time to do anything else, the door opens and a guard approaches the Director with a note. I watch surreptitiously while he reads, and see a flurry of emotion cross his face. From anger and puzzlement, to recognition, then finally, resignation. He quickly resumes the same false look of amusement when he first entered, but I’ve already seen.

“Looks like you two traitors will be free to go at the President’s request. But just know…I’m still watching you.”

Smiling wickedly and leaning in close enough for me to smell stale cigarettes on his breath, he adds, “I know you’ll be back, Ms. Rivers. And you can be sure Shan will be sitting right here next to you.”

–3: RELEASE AND CAPTURE–

I have no idea how he did it, but Shan came through. And I have no idea how the Director knows about Shan, but I’ll worry about that once Maura and I are out of here. It’s never taken this long before, and Shan’s never had to use the President’s name, so I wonder at what cost our freedom came.  

The same guards that brought us to the room, reappear and unshackle us. They roughly shove us out of the room, down multiple bleak corridors in the opposite direction, until the next door leads to daylight. There is no paperwork, we exchange no words, none of our belongings are returned to us. Nothing. I wasn’t even given a bandage or allowed to retrieve my severed pinky. On top of it all, it has been three days since our arrest, and neither of us were fed in that time. We emerge from the windowless, old world brutalist building, dirty, starving and in pain.

“That had to be Shan’s doing, right?” Maura asks.

“It had to be. I wonder why it took so long,” I answer weakly. “I think that’s him waiting for us in the transport over there.”

I point to a silver vehicle hovering at the corner of Brigade and Hall Streets, where the Detention Hall takes up an entire block. We edge closer to be sure it’s actually Shan sitting behind the controls, and I’m rewarded with relief when I see his low-cut, kinky, white hair, and equally stark white skin. He gets out of the transport to greet us, and his red-rimmed, coal black eyes look strained from stress and worry. His unruly, white eyebrows furrow in consternation.

“Sorry, ladies. I tried getting here faster, but that fucking aide, Leon…,”

Shan trails off as he takes in my bloody hand, and Maura’s bloodier face. A look of horror and pure hatred flashes in his eyes, and he ushers us to the transport.

“C’mon, get in. Let’s get out of here.”

We pile into the transport, Maura in the passenger seat and me behind Shan. Shan programs the transport for maximum speed, and it lifts up and jets off in no time. As we pick up speed, dodging the other transports on the ten-lane highway, Shan speaks.

“We have to release the information to the public. Today. Now. There’s no more time left.”

He sounds scared and anxious, which is unlike his usual nonchalant demeanor in a crisis.

“Shan, what did you do to get us out?” I scrutinize his profile from my position in the back of the transport. His jaw flexes a few times, but he refuses to answer. “Shan?…”

“… After trying to negotiate with that Earth-forsaken man, Leon – you know, Truellow’s aide? – I realized he wasn’t going to relent. It was different with him this time and I didn’t see it until now. But I knew I had to get you both out of there if this plan is ever going to work.”

Shan’s already pale knuckles are red from the tight grip he holds on the steering wheel.

“So I knocked him out with my emergency gas, hacked his e-palm and stationary, and sent a note to the detention myself. I’m sure…,” he trails off.

“What, Shan? What is it?” Maura angrily demands.

“… I’m sure I was being watched. When I hacked his e-palm, I saw the recording alert. I tried deleting it, but there was a fail-safe and next thing I knew, it was being sent. To whom? I didn’t have time to find out.”

“Dammit, Shan! They’re going to come after us!” I said, my hysteria rising. The magnitude of what he’s done hits me like a fast moving boulder. If ever there was a time to release the information, it has to be today. “And that’s why the Director said you’d be back with me in the Detention Hall. He knew. He already knows everything!”

“He said what? That recording must’ve went to him, then. Shit!”

“And a whole lot of other things if the aide was recording you. I’m sure that wasn’t the first time,” Maura adds miserably.

Shan glances at Maura a few times, and a tense silence permeates the transport. I can see the blue vein bulging from the side of his forehead when he turns to look at her. Then in a fit of rage, he punches the steering wheel several times before we can coax him back to calmness.

The transport is still operating at maximum speed, and within minutes we make it several miles east of the Detention Hall. We head in the direction our safe house, where the smog and treeless wasteland will greet us.  

“We need to broadcast our work. I’ll put together the live report, and we’ll hack into the major networks to air it. Tonight.” I say after a while. Both Maura and Shan nod in agreement. “We’ll do it from the safe house. We can’t risk a studio.”

“You got it,” Shan says.

After riding for a short while, the tension I didn’t know I’d been holding releases, letting my shoulders droop. No one appears to be following us, and we’re just two blocks away from the safe house.

When Shan makes the last turn of the ride into the rundown, dead-end block of our street, instead of being met by the usual homeless stragglers and stray dogs, a dozen Brigade transports are perched there. Vultures waiting for their next meal.

–4: NOTHING WITHOUT SACRIFICE —

“Oh, my Earth! They found us.” Maura shouts. She ducks in her seat and covers her head.

“Shit!” Shan mutters over and over, fingers flying over his transport controls. “We have to find a route with narrow streets. Those bulky Brigade transports won’t be able to follow us through them.”

Just as he puts the transport in reverse, one of the Brigadiers fires a shot at us. All I can hear, as we make our escape, are the deafening pops of the rest of the Brigadiers guns. Shan’s transport is top grade, but the rear window cracks from the impact of the bullets as we peal out of there.  

“Are they following up?” Shan frantically looks through the  windows and side mirrors to see how far behind the Brigade is.

“Of course they are!” I say. “We have to shake them off–”

“We need to get to the lab,” Maura interjects. “Other members knew about the safe house location, but only the three of us know about the lab. Right?”

“You’re right.” I say, and Shan nods in agreement. “Everything we need is there, but how do we get there?”

Shan pushes his transport at maximum speed around sharp corners, and down narrow streets. He is right about all the Brigade transports not being able to follow, but two are just as sleek as Shan’s, and we can’t get rid of them.  

One of the Brigade transports gets closer and fires at us a few times, but it does nothing to slow us down. More than ever, I am grateful for all the money and time Shan’s invested in his vehicle. I used to question all the enhancements he made, but all he would say is, “These aren’t normal times, Esat.” How right he is.

I watch from the backseat as the guns mounted on the hood of the Brigade transport collapse into the car, and two bigger, deadlier ones appear. We’re racing ahead and gaining speed on them, but too slowly.

The Brigade fires at us again, and this time we’re rocked off course and skid to the side. We nearly crash into a cube-home, but Shan expertly navigates the transport to avoid the near collision. It slows us down briefly, but then he plugs new instructions into the controls, and we’re regain speed on the two transports.

“Shit, they hit my fuel tank! We won’t last much longer,” Shan yells out.

Maura and I look at one another, speaking without words.

“We have to get out. Go on foot.” Maura says first, breaking the stare.

“If we do that, we’ll be caught before we get to the lab,” Shan says. His eye flit back and forth for a few seconds, then, “You two jump out and get to the lab, while I keep going. We have to distract them.”

“NO!” Maura and I say in unison.

“I have to! This is the only way we can do this now. If we get caught, we die, and nothing will ever change! We have to make this change!”

I’ve never heard this vehemence in Shan’s voice before, and it stuns me into momentary silence. Maura too.

“You know that alley three blocks from the lab that always looks ghostly?”

Maura and I nod.

“I’m going to circle around, and when I round the corner where the alley is, you both jump out and run. They won’t catch up in time to see me stop, so they’ll just keep chasing me, thinking it’s all of us.”

“Oh my Earth, Shan,” I say, steadying my voice to continue. “You have to get away.”

“Yea …”

“You can! Put on your jacket with the hood, and dump this car somewhere,” Maura adds.

“Of course, I’ll try. But you two hurry and get ready. We’re coming up to the turn.”

The sirens from the Brigade transports blare behind us and follow us at every bend. I scoot over to the transport door and put my hand on the lever, muscles readying to pull down.

“Maura, Esat, you ready?”

“Yes,” Maura says.

“Yea…”

Shan unlocks the door as we round the corner, and slows down just enough for us to jump out. I sprint down the alley as fast as I can, holding onto Maura’s hand to lend her support and speed.

We get to the end of the alley leading to a series of interconnected streets and passageways, some lively, some not. The path will eventually let us out onto Main Avenue, where our lab is. Main Ave is always busy with shoppers, so we should be able to blend right in.

We duck left into the next street and start to make our way. The streets are dark and grimy, littered with trash and rodents. The unpaved ground is soggy from recent rain, and our shoes and legs are splattered with the muck.

I can hear the sirens scream in the distance and know they’re for Shan. A few pops of the Brigade’s guns go off, but it’s the sound of the sirens that encircle us as we walk through the streets. It threatens to ensnare and swallow us whole. Finally, we stumble out of the last passageway onto the Avenue, and try to walk the pace of several nearby shoppers. I’m looking everywhere for the starched black uniform and shiny helmets of the Brigade, but Shan’s kept his word and kept them off our backs.

“Just a few doors down,” Maura says nervously. “Let’s pick it up a little, yea?”

Maura owns the residential section above a clothing store, which we fondly refer to as our lab. A former boss and friend of Maura’s bought the building a long time ago and let her have the upstairs. It was a huge thanks for saving her son’s life through some concoction Maura cooked up. He’d been sick from GM foods, and Maura nursed him back to health using her knowledge and all of her meager home garden supplies.

We pick up the pace a little and get to the familiar white gated door. I wait while Maura unlocks both the security gate and the main door, and it takes every ounce of patience and restraint not to rush her in.

She’s enters the building first, and as I turn to shut and lock the gated door behind me, the ground violently shakes under my feet. A crashing and screeching reverberates so piercingly that I have to cover my ears. All I see when I look up is a plume of fire in the distance and dense black smoke. My heart explodes in my chest over and over, and tiny black dots start to flood my vision. With Maura’s wailing in the background and my own shock, I slam the second door shut, stumble inside and then … blackness.

–5: NEW ERA —

“Hey, Esat. Can you hear me? You ok?”

I awake to a red-eyed and red-faced Maura gently slapping my cheek.

“Yea, yea, I’m ok,” I get up and walk over to the small couch. “Just overwhelmed…but you understand…I’ll be fine.”

Maura turns on the news report and there, graphically live, is Shan’s car blackened and completely crumbled. We watch for a while in horror as the reporter reads from her script of bullshit.

“… suspect was bombed dead after trying to evade authorities on wanted charges in connection to treason, and recent terrorist activity in Blue Heights City…”

I stare at the screen long after Maura clicks it off and walks to the window. She peeks through the blinds, shaking her head all the while crying silently.

“Lies and bullshit,” she mutters to herself softly.

We stay like this for a while, unsure of what to do next, stuck between wanting to avenge him, and wanting to crawl up and hibernate forever.

In the lab, there is a silent chamber Maura installed so that whenever she got frustrated or angry, she’d go in there and yell whatever she wanted at the top of her lungs. It’s soundproof and darkened, so no one can hear or see inside. She says it’s therapeutic, and it’s probably true since she always looks refreshed when she reemerges.

We take turns going in for a few minutes, and when it’s my turn, I just sit in silence with my head in my hands, and cry. I don’t feel any better, but I know I can’t be selfish. Especially not now, not after what Shan’s given us.

“You ready to do this?” Maura asks as I’m leaving the silent chamber.

“Not really. But Shan didn’t sacrifice his life for nothing.”

“Alright. Let’s get it done, then.”

We busy ourselves backing up copies of reports and studies, and getting camera equipment ready for the broadcast. By 6am the next morning, we’re ready. Maura sets up the network access, and hovers her finger above ‘enter’ to go live.

“In 5 … 4 … 3 … 2 …”

“Good morning, citizens of Tusoba. I am Esat Rivers, reporter with Earth Now, coming to you live from Blue Heights City, New Kem. Today, I bring to you this message after much hardship and heartache. Government leaders and the Brigade have worked to silence this message for a while from fear of returning your power to you. Yesterday, they detained and tortured myself and my colleague for several hours, then killed our friend, Shan Gosie. Shan is not a terrorist, but an innocent fighter of good. A fighter for you and me. He is unlike our leaders, who continually lie, brutalize, disrespect, misuse and mistreat the people in every way. It’s our very lives on the line here, and it’s your choice whether you want to live or die. It’s your choice whether you want more of the same or if you want to take it back! For me, it stops now. Listen up, because I’ve got important information that will completely change your suffering here on Earth. Now!

“For decades, our government has been lying to us. They’ve been slowly killing us and our planet by severing our natural connection to it. Do you ever wonder why after eating your meal of genetically modified foods, you feel a certain restlessness, or unwarranted feelings of anger? How about feelings of despondency and sudden mood shifts? What about the lack of population growth and infertility? We are all experiencing this, and will continue to for as long as we eat what we eat.

“Our food is manufactured in factories from genetically modified versions of foods we used to be able to get fresh. Our diets no longer contain natural ingredients grown from the Earth. No one but the .05% have the resources to combat the inevitable diseases that arise from consuming genetically created foods. The government has tried to deny this epidemic for some time, and they have tried treating it with more manufactured drugs that were proven ineffective …”

I lay out the contents of the study, showing the connections we’ve found between the genes in the food, and the high infertility rate among women. We broadcast tests showing what happens to our organs after consuming the GM foods, how they begin to shrivel and corrode with each meal. The proof is undeniable, and brings to light many of the side effects our government has been hiding for decades. High government officials are named as being complicit in covering up the truth, and pocketing money and gifts, in exchange for cooperation with the big food manufacturers.

Before we go off the air, the last thing we reveal is a real-time image of how a healthy brain looks after consuming only natural foods. Then we switch the image to what the average brain looks likes on GM foods. It’s so corroded and looks on the brink of rot that its desired effect ripples across social channels.

“Water no longer holds enough oxygen and we need to consume more of it. Our genetics have begun to change and can’t adapt to our environment, which is shifting our compatibility with the planet. In the case our genetics completely transform, we’ll be displaced from our planet, having to seek another world to populate. Or we perish all together.”  

As the 45-minute broadcast airs over the network, the responses that come in are overwhelming. People are angry and want justice, and out of that emerges cries of action. Others are shocked and almost in denial until they truly consider the proof, then there’s no choice but acceptance. The broadcast is shared hundreds, thousands of times, and within a few days, people are in the streets calling for change. Hackers are even overriding networks to air the broadcast over and over again.

We hide in the lab for the next couple of weeks while the broadcast makes its rounds.

“Do you see all of these pings from the viewers, Esat?” Maura’s smile is genuine, and replaces the light that went out when Shan died. ”This is great. This is really great for us.”

“The fight has only begun.”

“So ominous, but, you’re right.”

My bandaged hand throbs from the pressure of my missing pinky, but I place it on her shoulder anyway in agreement. Things will start to heal, and as time changes, surely will the people. And from the responses we’re getting, that change is long overdue.

From our virtual end, we feed fire to the flames. People ask how they can make the necessary change, what steps can they take to reverse the effects. We receive stories of those unable to conceive, to those with unexplained feuds with close family members. They all want to figure out what to do, and what’s next.

Our plan is simple. Grow your own natural foods by way of small in-home gardens. Plant seeds to produce oxygen-rich plants to keep in your homes. Band together to fight the large food corporations. Boycott the genetically created foods, and depend on one another to support communities.

Of course, we get our share of angry, hate-filled messages. People who aren’t knowledgeable of the fact that food grown from the soil-rich Earth is as natural as waking up in the morning. These are people unaccustomed to doing their own bidding. The rich, the needy, the comfortable that depend on everyone else to handle everything for them. These are the people that will not survive in our new world. These are the people that will not permanently tether to Earth.

As the months go on, Maura and I emerge from hiding. The Brigade Director, we hear, was unceremoniously murdered in the street a while ago trying to brutally disperse a protesting crowd. In the people’s anger, they topple the Block and fight back, overwhelming the Brigade in sheer numbers when they try to detain them. The anger is palpable will take a while to abate, but was, and still is, just.

— A year later —

I guess it took a little while for me to notice. A few weeks ago, while walking down the street, something green caught my eye. A plant in someone’s window, sitting there small and bright. The beginnings of new life is blooming in the windows of our stackable cube homes, and you can see small gardens starting to emerge. There are even streets where the concrete sidewalks were smashed to make way for small gardens and trees. Trees haven’t been seen in a city since the 21st Century, so it’s a beautiful sight that I visit often.

The world surrounding us is starting to look green again, instead of the colorless plastics, grey drab concrete, and general blandness of the other synthetic materials. Whole manufacturing plants have gone defunct as demand shifts. The best part – the air has gotten sweater, fresher, and suddenly, there’s no need to pay for it!

“Shan would be so proud and excited.” Maura stands next to me with fresh zinnias and marigold flowers from her garden. The strong and pleasant odor of freshly turned dirt wafts all around us, comforting us in its essence.

“He would…he is. I’m sure he’s still here with us.” I smile as I place my bouquet of daffodils on Shan’s grave. “He’ll always be with us in spirit, and in the fights to come.”

Thanks for reading!