VISIONS OF EDEN

Was Father afraid of being less of a man if my ideas worked, or was he trying to protect me from my own guilt if I failed? Did it matter? Either way, he was allowing his fear to rule his life. Our constant quarreling drained me, but acquiescence was not an option. I kept my eyes locked on his. Fair enough. Let me use the sailcar. I'll register for a farm at the land office. Then I'll no longer be a burden to you.

Father leaned across the table. You- A coughing fit overcame him. I knew our battles drained him as much as me and felt a brief pang of guilt. I reached out to touch him but quickly withdrew my hand; he didn't want my pity.

Eva lost no time. Hey, David, help me fert the garden before you go. You promised.

If I must. I stood up and leaned over to kiss my mother before following Eva into the toilet where we retrieved the collection canister. Ah, the fertcan. No New Omaha home was complete without one. She grabbed the box of hydrox compound used to counter the irrigation water's acidity and poured some in. I grabbed her hand.

Clogged tubes, no wonder the small patch is so alkaline! Here, watch me.

But the instructions say

Scrap those corroded instructions, I replied, removing half of the stinging white powder from the fertcan. This is all we need.

We stirred the mixture of feces, urine, and hydrox into rank-smelling slurry before heading outside. I imagined the low rolling hills covered with bright green waist-high grasses and dark green bushes tipped with purple flowers. My disks described the many plant and animal species that had once inhabited these plains. As if my memories of Mars weren't torture enough! The vision lasted but a moment but the pain was as fresh as ever.

Someday, I whispered as the vivid colors faded to the barren browns and grays of my daily reality. Ranks of rusted vaporizers stood idle in the morning light, tall tubes with meter-wide catch basins near their feet. Grains of stinging sand pelted my face and I drew my hood closer about me. Come on. The sooner we finish, the sooner I can get into New Omaha.

Rain's coming! Eva pointed up at the sky as we approached a plot of half-dead vegetables.

I squinted at the distant thunderheads. That's dry lightning, Eva. That rain's evaporating long before hitting the ground.

Sinking to my knees by the first plant, I lowered two fingers into the fertcan and scooped up a dollop of the stinking mush. We placed bits of fert next to each plant as we worked our way through the field. Halfway down the first row, I stopped. Several plants were either missing or looked half-eaten. I scooped some soil that appeared freshly turned. My hand burned. I cast the lifeless dirt into the wind and spit in my palm. My spittle frothed as it reacted with the chemical brew but the pain subsided almost instantly. Something caught my eye and I knelt for a closer look. Could it be? I brushed away the bits of loose duff covering the hole's entrance. A gopher.

Really? Eva leaned over my shoulder to look.

Look for yourself. My attention returned to the desolate landscape. Oh to feel cool grass again!

A noise caught my attention. Eva had picked up a section of pipe and was jabbing it spear-like into the gopher's hole. I grabbed her arm. We're surrounded by death, Eva. For once, let's let something live.

Eva nodded and set the pipe down. When we were finished, I helped her to her feet. Well. Another day of mortgaging our future to live through today.

What do you mean?

I sighed. The hydrox is causing salt buildup.