To dim a dying sun

The sky turned a brave blue. They were told that those white lines across the sky were jet exhaust. It was nothing but a line drawn by a child’s white crayola, a white lie, mistaken for sprayed particulate dispersion.

They who lied, also burnt the book that warned them. It was titled ‘The Offensive Book’.

The cheery peasants from flats and houses, came out to bask in the sun, under — even — what was left of its power. They sat in groups, more of a stranger to the others as they were to themselves.

They were allowed out for only two days. The rest of their free time was spent exhausted and downtrodden.

But with only 20-30% less direct sunlight, they do not know that they are getting less of what they need from the sun, and with everything else they were promised but will never get — it led them further away from unity.

Their only goal now —relaxation. No one was working towards anything anymore, because there was nothing to work towards. There was no room for the things that were around them, above them and below them in the soil. It was no fault of their own, they were obedient workers, paying to live on this earth and to help their fellow humans.

And it was agreed that this was good.

There was a ping on enochs phone. He pulled it out and read:

“Sudden death in Tansbury as police launch investigation”

‘Bio-available toxic metal was said to be found in the rain. These toxic metals kill the soil microbiome which kills the root system…’

The second headline read, but disappeared almost as soon as he saw it.

His phone screen still lit up. He blinked and looked towards his child.

Little Enoch picked a dying, yellow petal, calendula while sitting on the grass. He was about to put it in his mouth, but the father smacked it away. Offering the poisonous carrot instead, from his pokemon lunch box.

In secret, the soil acidity hits 5.5ph below them. It must be a mistake in nature that the aluminium in the soil changes to soluble.This was dangerous for the plants and those who eat of it. This aluminium, has been mined and refined and dispersed, and nature retaliates so the trees in the forest fall when the wind blows.

The father recalled the events that took place on their way to the park earlier that day. How it rained for two minutes, then sunshine for two minutes more and yet again and again for a while. How the clouds gathered the way they usually do and the grey settles into its tone. How the sun came, then hid behind the clouds, and the rain in and out of the storehouse. Their faces on and off from being pleased with the weather. But their minds…

They say with both pride and reluctancy. That this is the greatest time to be alive, healthcare is at their fingertips and the dream to live longer, but not forever, has finally been achieved. So they paid no attention, as they ran the marathon towards wealth and possession.

But with more living and more thinking, came the productivity obsession.

The world is a better place when we trade time for money, and speed over diligence. Wakefulness over sleep. These words were written on the leaflets given out by the robots, the therapists were burnt out and could not do their jobs. These robots followed the clinically depressed around, and prescribed them with these words. This family was not depressed, but the prescription was mandatory.

‘Dad, you know the other day when you brought us to the cemetery for a walk?’

‘Yes, had a lovely time didn’t you? Green grass and… all those flowers scattered around —‘

‘Dad?’

‘Yes son?’

His father could feel that this wasn’t one of those short and sweet conversations. That it would be quite muddy, quite dark and murky. So he did not look at his son, even though he wanted his dad to meet his eye, and to feel and understand his pain. To answer all the questions that kept him up at night. To come with him to protest this awful thing, with his coworkers and all the like minded rebels. Well- meaning, working class citizens. To see him as like a father again, and not a machine changed into something else that he had to live with.

Is he still his father, can he ever be….?

‘If mummy never took that construction job, would she still be alive. Can… can science bring her back? Oh dad, I don’t know what I would do if you leave me the way she —-‘

‘That’s not going to happen, Charlie. Toughen up, okay? It’s not going to happen. You and your little brother have nothing to worry about.’

‘It has already happened dad, you’re not immune to death and aging. And maybe it’s not so bad that there’s microplastics hiding in my reproductive system, at least I can spare a child from all of this. There's nothing to work towards anymore, anyway, dad.’

‘There’s plenty to work towards that has nothing to do with this speculative mess, you could help me pay off the mortgage instead of spending your money on video games.’

‘When was the last time you picked up a book dad? And yeah I’ve got my own issues, but you would understand me more if you actually bothered to think outside your job and without that stupid chip in your head!’

‘I don’t have all the time in the world like you do, son. Maybe if you weren’t born I wouldn't be….’

‘A bad dad, and somehow that’s my fault? If I worked twice as hard and paid off the mortgage. Would that give us more time together, would it? That’s all I’ve been asking from you dad, for some of your time. But clearly I need to pay for that, the same way your boss does.’

Enoch handed the child over to the nanny robot. He pushed his son in such a way that conjured anger, but Charlie knew to swallow his anger. This was his dad, the man he would never stop mourning over if he died. The man that changed his nappies, that played video games with him and talked about the fond memories they all had together as a family when his mother, and enochs wife was alive.

Enoch brought his hand to his head where the chip was placed. He began to think if it was such a good idea to have the surgery done. When he was diagnosed with a learning disability, he felt as though he was to make an impossible decision. It was the chip or homelessness with his two children. It was the chip or mourning the death of his wife till the day he died.

A/N: gave it my best shot. Never written in this genre before. Thank you so much for reading if you got this far 🙏🏽🤗♥️