Last of Its Kind

The screen wavered as the numbers appeared behind the newscaster. Kayla blinked as the numbers grew painfully brighter.

Monday Zoning Begins 9:30AM, Ends 5:45PM Prepare for Tier 2 Precautions Forecast of ~115 to 120℉

As Kayla picked at her breakfast, the newscaster droned, “Due to higher forecasted temperatures than usual, we’ve received updated guidelines from the EPA. Field employers should alert their workers immediately about the shift from Tier 3 to Tier 2 orders. Heat zoning has been extended…” Cheery temperature bulbs popped on the screen across cities on a map, emoting with happy and sad expressions. More sad than happy this week.

Kayla silently mouthed along with the caster’s daily sign-off, “Stay inside. Stay safe. Thank you,” as she browsed through the multiple feeds on their kitchen screen, while her mother and father sat by the workstation. The house was kept impeccably clean, made even more stark by the concrete floors that felt cold to the touch. It was kept frigid inside, a temperature that her mother described as “fashionable.”

She had something to stay, but it was stuck on the tip of her tongue. As she tasted the pears in her oatmeal, her mind anxiously flitted from one thought to the next. The wall screen with the temperature bulbs, a memory of forests caught aflame, the feeling of icy air blowing from every corner of the house, an image of a lone man stranded on the sidewalk, shaking with sweat, and finally, the tree. The pear tree in the yard was a family heirloom passed down from generation to generation, crammed into a modest outdoor space they could afford. Kayla couldn’t keep quiet any longer, blurting out her thoughts as usual.

“It’s the last one, isn’t it? Because it’s getting bad out there,” She said, her words cutting through the silence. No response, so she continued, “Or it’s one of the last. Right?”

“What’s the last, honey?” Her mother called back, distracted by her workscreen.

“The pear tree!” Kayla said, exasperated, “Our family tree. I know other families can’t afford it, and I haven’t seen a tree on the newscast in ages” She was ten, old enough to know about money, who had things, and who didn’t. She was a girl who could keep up, but the comments of disbelief from her classmates had thrown her for a loop. Kayla grew up sitting by that tree, climbing its branches, and running through the postage-stamp-sized yard that seemed endless and spacious when she was just a toddler.

“Who gave you that idea? Was it Mia, that girl from school who’s always messaging you?” Kayla’s father chimed in, unsurprised, “She really has a mouth on her.”

“Yes, it was Mia. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t right. She says she’s never even seen a pear tree because they’re too expensive for anyone to have at home, and that growing a pear tree out of all the kinds of trees isn’t exactly the smartest use of, uh... something, she said…anyway, Mia said we’re probably wasting fertilizer that the government could be using for their REGRO program—”

“Honey, honey? Slow down. Mia’s just a little girl, like you. And all the two of you need to be worrying about is your schoolwork. Leave the government and money stuff to me and your Dad. Is that clear?” Mrs. Lee interrupted.

“But why would we have something that no one else has?” Kayla prodded.

“Kayla, drop it.” Mr. Lee asserted, nearly raising his voice.

“But—” Kayla started again, but stopped when she saw her father’s pained and concerned expression.

***

A few days later, Mr. Lee was in the yard with every tool in their house imaginable. A spaghetti mess of cords sat in a pile next to him and the portable A/C units rotated from all sides of the yard, blowing harshly on his face. Still, his forehead dripped with sweat. A screeching sound erupted from one thing, a beeping sound emitted from another, and pretty soon, Mr. Lee was swearing up a storm, trying to mutter quietly under his breath.

“What is it, Dad?” Kayla poked her head in.

Mr. Lee froze abruptly, shouting, “Stop!” His eyes shifted from left to right, his hands shoving wires to the side, “Uh, don’t come in. I can’t fix up this yard if someone’s watching over my shoulder. Give me space! Please.”

“Gosh. Okay, fine.” Kayla rolled her eyes, but dutifully backed away.

Unbeknownst to Mr. Lee, she peered into the yard from her favorite spot in the back, tucked away. From her seat, Kayla had a perfect view of the tree. As she watched the sun peeking through the leaves, she remembered afternoons spent reading while leaning on the cool bark, smooth like velvet. She would stroke the bark as she flipped through her reader, calmed by its soft touch. She saw her father place a screwdriver at the base of the tree. As he took out multiple screws, a metal panel popped open. Strange that the panel was hidden under the fake grass, something she never noticed before. The shine on the leaves of the tree suddenly seemed unnerving rather than calming as they fluttered in the wind from the surrounding fans.

After hours of frustration, Mr. Lee finally collapsed and sat stewing. He said the words that made Kayla forget the irking feeling.

“That’s it. I can’t fix it. We need to make a visit out of the compound” He said, resigned.

***

Kayla was too excited to question it. She had only been outside a handful of times. Her days were spent attending virtual classes and using the underground paths to visit her friends, like Mia, in their equally immaculate homes. Hand clamped onto a plastic card, their pass for the gate security system, Kayla felt her whole body tense up with anticipation. One card in, one card out. Don’t lose it, don’t lose it.

It didn’t help that Mr. Lee was sitting silently; her normally gregarious father was in a deep rumination that left Kayla feeling alone, eyes wide, taking it all in. They made their way through an enclosed tunnel that connected to the central gate. The security guard posted there paused for a lengthy time examining the cards closely, until he asked, “Reason for your trip?”

“Visit to the EPT. Climate mechanics, work trip.” Mr. Lee spoke curtly, flashing his employee badge up. Kayla shot her father a panicked look and whispered quietly, “Dad, we’re going to fix the yard.” But her father stood aloof, paying her no attention.

“Alright, move along,” the guard signaled them through the gate.

A brief exposure to the intense sun brought stars to Kayla’s eyes, but it lasted only a moment since they rushed straight into the train car that was insulated well from the heat. After multiple attempts to start a conversation, Kayla sat silently next to her father the rest of the ride, after his only response was, “Wait, I want to show you something, just wait.”

When they neared their stop and Mr. Lee stood up, Kayla saw a nondescript store with a tiny placard, “BioX Co.” in block letters. When they entered the small door, they were greeted by an incredible display with an electric flower whose petals moved in and out like a hand grasping at air. It looked silky to the touch.

They made their way through the dark and empty shop, exiting the back through a door, and onward to another room. Mr. Lee seemed to know exactly where he was going.

“Mason? Are you there?” He called out.

“Dad, what is this place?” Kayla whispered.

From behind a metal divider, a large man with a rotund belly emerged. He was wrapped in a rubber apron and gloves. With a booming voice, he shouted, “Lee! It’s been years! What are we here for?”

“Mason, it’s good to see you. I know your work is fool-proof, but I seemed to have botched it. We’re here about repairs to the tree. It’s been giving me trouble,” And finally Mr. Lee cleared his throat before saying slowly, “Kayla, this is Mason Smith. He’s a very talented robotics engineer.”

Suddenly Kayla noticed remnants of green, plasticky leaves strewn across the table in front of Mason. In the back of the store, dark and cold, there were various potted plants that stood vibrant and green without any sunlight. The only words Kayla managed to muster was, “Wh-What do you mean? This is what you wanted to tell me?”

Mr. Lee nodded and took a deep breath and took Kayla’s hand in his own as they sat down, waving Mason away.

“Sit down. I wanted us to be here for this conversation,” He closed his eyes, as he recalled, “I don’t know if I have the right words for this moment. But your grandmother told me something I’ll never forget. She said, no child deserves to live in a box. No child deserves to grow up not knowing what it’s like to play outside,” He spoke rapidly, his words tumbling out one after the other.

“Of course I know that!” Kayla said, confused, “That’s why we have a tree. That’s why you build the yard!”

“I know. We did build it. We did, but it’s not...you have to realize, when your mother was pregnant with you and they were announcing new restrictions each day, the guidelines were changing too fast for us to even process what was happening. Somehow along the way, we weren’t allowed plants or outdoor space or even allowed outside our own homes. What I want you to know is that we tried. That was our dream. And we decided our only option would be to find the next best thing and make it work. They were manufactured from metal parts, and it was something.” Her father spoke rapidly, his words tumbling out one after the other.

“Stop it. Just stop it. It’s not real” Kayla placed her hands over her ears, willing herself not to hear, but Mr. Lee couldn’t stop now.

“Kayla, you asked if our tree was the last pear tree? The answer I didn’t say before, was that I don’t know.” He shook his head, still not ready to admit, “I really don’t know. I don’t know if there are any trees left.”

***

For once, Kayla had nothing to say. She had to get back home. Kayla’s only response was to rush back, silently shaking as her father continued to explain the dire state of their world. She needed to see it herself, and couldn’t bear to respond to her father’s teary-eyed confession. She recalled the sun shining, the grass swaying, and the brilliant green leaves. Don’t lose it, don’t lose it. When they arrived back at their house, Kayla saw how paltry and dismal their home was. It didn’t seem clean and neat, so much as it was barren. It was immaculate out of necessity, an empty cubicle devoid of the comforts of mass consumerism. She ran to the “yard,” which she realized was a square meter sectioned off from the kitchen. Overhead, there was an intense circular lamp, installed into the ceiling, that their family called “The sun.” And the tree, beautiful as it was, was cold and smooth from being formed from plastic and metal. Its leaves swayed gently from the internal mechanisms.

Kayla couldn’t have known what a real tree would look like — couldn’t have known that bark didn’t feel cool and smooth to the touch, couldn’t have known that their gray, cement home was any different from other homes. As she cried in bed that night, Kayla slowly drifted to sleep. She dreamt of her toes squishing into grass, trees with swaying branches, and the taste of juicy pears, cloyingly sweet.

But mostly, she dreamt of when she believed it was real.