Guy Stewart's Blog, page 130

POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAYS: The Forest for the Trees

[image error]Minnesota, where I live, is a state that knows a thing or two about trees. We’re home to the world’s largest jack pine, the largest tamarack, and the famous Witch tree of Lake Superior! We are acknowledged experts in the control of and management of forest fires. With a forest products annual impact of a bit over sixteen billion dollars, we may not be the biggest and best – but we certainly know our trees.
We’ve learned the hard way what NOT to do with our trees. In the 1950s, because of aggressive beautification programs, Minneapolis had over 200000 elm trees. Thirty years later, because of an equally aggressive epidemic of Dutch elm disease, the city had lost half of those. Entire streets went from lush foliage and sun-dappled sidewalks to stump scars in a matter of months.
This happened because cheap trees and public pressure to plant them overwhelmed common sense – at least what appeared to be common sense to us now. Why would anyone in their right mind plant almost a quarter of a million of the same kind of tree? No one will ever know for sure, but it’s clear now that the decision led to the loss of tens of thousands of trees in Minneapolis alone. Similar planting practices elsewhere in North America and in Europe; on city boulevards and in the forests, led to an estimated toll of over 40,000,000 trees – a loss of aesthetic, cash, and effort spent in removing dead trees. The pandemic stripped France of 95 percent of its elms!
The first paper cited below lists a number of times at which Humans could have intervened to save the trees or ameliorate the devastation – opportunities that were missed and would have likely averted the arboreal disaster entirely. The number one intervention: “What could have been done in the 1950s or earlier to minimize the possibility of future elm tree losses in Minnesota? Most obviously, we first could have stopped planting elms. Elms in nurseries should have been destroyed and no new elms planted.”What does all of this have to do with science fiction, Christianity, or writing for young people? Not much except as a cautious cautionary tale. Watching the redressing of long-standing wrongs with instant, concerted action, I’ve seen a weeding out of individuals who stand out or are different; people who are not enough like what we now understand to be “good”. Long after the damage has been done – long after the 40,000,000 trees are dead and gone – we’re making sure that...what? That the correct trees are planted, absolutely. But have we eliminated Dutch elm disease altogether? We have not. The fungus that struck North American trees came from the Netherlands and progressed across the continent from 1920s well into the 1960s. Then another strain of the fungus rode a shipment of wood from here back to Europe in 1967, further devastating their elm population.

We were quite sure it had been taken care of. Quite, quite sure. But the fungus that caused Dutch elm disease is still active, still dangerous, and while most of us rest easy now that the obvious symptoms are taken care of and an admittedly difficult battle is over, the war, as they say is far, far from won.
Resources: http://conservancy.umn.edu/bitstream/handle/11299/151957/History%20of%20Dutch%20Elm%20Disease%20in%20Minnesota.pdf?sequence=1, http://www.apsnet.org/edcenter/intropp/lessons/fungi/ascomycetes/Pages/DutchElm.aspxImage: http://mspmag.com/MSPMag/ElmTree/img/portfolio/Gallery-TreeLombard-beforeafter.jpg

LOVE IN A TIME OF ALIEN INVASION Chapter 31

[image error]On Earth, there are three Triads intending to integrate not only the three peoples and stop the war that threatens to break loose and slaughter Humans and devastate their world.; but to stop the war that consumes Kiiote economy and Yown’Hoo moral fiber. The Braiders accidentally created a resonance wave that will destroy the Milky Way and the only way to stop it is for the Yown’Hoo-Kiiote-Human Triads to build a physical wall. The merger of Human-Kiiote-Yown’Hoo into a van der Walls Society may produce the Membrane to stop the wave.

The young experimental Triads are made up of the smallest primate tribe of Humans – Oscar and Kashayla; the smallest canine pack of Kiiote – six, pack leaders Qap and Xurf; and the smallest camelid herd of Yown’Hoo – a prime eleven, Dao-hi the Herd mother. On nursery farms and ranches away from the TC cities, Humans have tended young Yown’Hoo and Kiiote in secret for decades, allowing the two warring people to reproduce and grow far from their home worlds.
“We had nearly fallen into stagnation when we encountered the Kiiote.”
“And we into internecine war when we encountered the Yown’Hoo.”
 “Yown’Hoo and Kiiote have been defending themselves for a thousand revolutions of our Sun.”
 “Together, we might do something none of us alone might have done…a destiny that included Yown’Hoo, Kiiote, and Human.” (2/19/2015)
“We’re a little busy right now, but as soon as we survive driving over this rickety old bridge, I’ll come back and tell you.”
“What rickety old...”
Suddenly, machine gun fire spanged off of the JACK’S BAKERY delivery truck. “Humans!” I shouted...
Lieutenant Commander Patrick Bakhsh (retired) called, “Just keep driving! Go, go, go!”
I floored the accelerator while he elbowed ‘Shayla and the Herd mother back into the rear of the truck and slammed the door shut. We plowed through some sort of flimsy barrier, rode over the bridge to the other side. On the right, where Retired had said there would be a mansion, was an inferno. A cluster of loosely attached Yown’Hoo herdships, hovered over the river, pouring lambent energy beams at the site.
A Kiiote “pack fighter” craft, flat, sleek, and deadly, returned fire, but was clearly abandoning the blazing mansion, sniping whenever the Yown’Hoo took a shot at them.
It was clear that the battle was over and lost. “I think I’ll keep going while they’re busy with each other!” I said as I roared past the carnage. Retired had fallen back in the seat, his face closed and guarded. I only saw that much because I had to slow us down to navigate around a tree laying across the road, burned nearly into charcoal now. The road past the bridge was clear now, dark, silent, and looking like it was abandoned. I said, “So, where’s the next Kiiote mobile hospital?”
When he turned to look at me, his face was lit only by the telltales on the dash as he said, “Not for another two hundred klicks.”
Horrified, I turned to face the night. Finally I managed, “How long can you survive the gelp?” He’d described it as a Kiiote fungus growing roots into his skin, seeking the warmth of his major blood vessels. He hadn’t gone any farther, but I could imagine. Part of my training in the old Dome had been in medicine. I was, according to the medical trail marker guru, only a class and an internship away from certification as a paramedic. Off-world diseases were rare; the Kiiote and Yown’Hoo catching Earth diseases even rarer. I’d heard tales from the first days of the Hot War; people hoping that the aliens would die as easily as the Martians had in the Human classic by HG Wells, War Of The Worlds.
No such luck. For a fleeting moment, I suddenly felt what it must have been like in those days – even the days of Retired. There must have been deep resentment. Hatred of all things alien. Humans not bred up like me and Shay – with everyday contact with them – must truly hate them, they’re so different.
Retired and I weren’t friends – but he was the first Human male I’d ever spent time with. I didn’t know what I’d do if he died. I took a deep breath and said, “My great uncle...”
He scowled and turned to me. “Yes?”
I took a deep breath, held it, and said, “I met a Kiiote when I was two years old.”
His look narrowed as he said, “You weren’t drafted into the Triad until you were five.”
I nodded slowly, turned my head and attended to my driving as a dark, heavy silence fell in the bakery truck’s cab.
Image: http://i.ytimg.com/vi/e35DuPgCM2I/maxresdefault.jpg

IDEAS ON TUESDAYS 215

[image error]Each Tuesday, rather than a POSSIBLY IRRITATING ESSAY, I'd like to both challenge you and lend a helping hand. I generate more speculative and teen story ideas than I can ever use. My family rolls its collective eyes when I say, "Hang on a second! I just have to write down this idea..." Here, I'll include the initial inspiration (quote, website, podcast, etc) and then a thought or two that came to mind. These will simply be seeds -- plant, nurture, fertilize, chemically treat, irradiate, test or stress them as you see fit. I only ask if you let me know if anything comes of them.
SF Trope: Black Market Produce (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BlackMarketProduce)Current Event: http://www.takepart.com/photos/6-foods-are-going-extinct-because-climate-change/coffee
Ana Paula Ravlić peered around the corner of the crumbling building, then stepped back and shook her head.
Xyriel Jayasuriya whispered, “What? Did they get away?”
“No. They’re there.”
“What is it then?”
She sighed, pulling the stunner from her chest holster, “I just thought when we were recruited to do undercover surveillance we’d be doing something important.”
Xyriel barely managed to suppress a snort of laughter. He whispered, “What, making sure the fabulously powerful are supplied with wine and coffee isn’t your idea of an important...”
Her elbow to his solar plexus drove the wind out of the rest of his obnoxious comment. “Shut up...” She looked around the corner again. “If we don’t move in a minute, we’re going to lose them.”
He took a deep breath, then managed to say, “I wasn’t done...”
“Shut up and get ready,” she said. He was dressed like an average teenager in a post-ANTHROPOgenic Globally Warmed Society America. Beaten down by constant accusations of culpability by wealthy politicians and blameless scientists, he’d been drafted to pay for the (quite literal) sins of his father, a former climate scientist from the last century whose manner was so rude and condescending, that not only had he had a hand in destroying any sort of chance Humanity had had of pulling together to respond to global warming.
Xyriel said, “If you’d quit angsting for a second, I have an idea. I think we might be able to do more than just steal grapes and coffee beans for the fat rats. There’s a group who are working to create conditions that will let us start over. It’s a sort of GMO Ark…”
Names: ♀ Uruguay, Croatia  ; ♂  Philippines, Sri Lanka
Image: http://media.techeblog.com/images/the-ark.jpg