Science fiction story: Where my children grow (Part 1)

Claud looked out the window at the densely packed array of buildings that wheezed by as the train moved forward. The city: an overly dense, gloomy, dingy assortment of apartments that he called home. The scenery was going to change after the next stop. The agricultural district was almost here. He sighed.

Martha gave his hand a slight squeeze. “Don’t worry. It’ll be over in no time.”

He raised his eyebrows, still looking outside. The train turned, buildings gave way to a blue patch of sky. It was clear without a hint of cloud.

“It’s not me I am worried about.” He said.

He thought about Bob – how his hands clutched the teddy bear as he slept. He had insisted that he was woken up when Claud left. Claud wanted to say goodbye too, but had thought against it. There was no need to put the boy through any stress in his condition.

“Bobby’s going to be better in no time. The doctors think it’s just a fever,” Martha said, sensing his worry.

“Yeah, that’s what they said about old man Bill. I don’t trust these community doctors. Take him to a private clinic, okay? They pay more attention.”

“Bill was sixty five,” Martha said, her voice firm, “And Bob’s going to be fine.”

“Don’t get the antibiotics from Ronny’s. I’ll get them from our company pharmacy. I can use my insurance, and the batch will be fresh. Ronny sells expired stuff. We won’t get that nonsense in the company store.”

Martha nodded and passed him the prescription.

“We still owe Matt fifty bucks.”

Martha was smiling now. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. You just focus on what you have to do the next few months.”

“The next four months.” Claud’s expression darkened. Four wasn’t few. Not where he was going. He thought of his little flat. The small bedroom. The dining table with the plastic fruit bowl they had brought the previous year. Bob’s little room with his heap of toys and his desktop. Bob sleeping with one of his legs hanging out from the bed. Martha knitting a sweater by the heater. It would be six months before he saw all that again. Actually, he would never see any of it again. The fruit bowl would probably disappear. Bob would be at least an inch taller. The toys would disappear. Heck, Old man Bill had died when he was away. Why did he choose this life again?

“Try to send some tropical fruits if you can manage it. Bob likes them,” said Martha.

That was why. The promise of a better life. At least, bits and pieces of one.

“The orchards are ready for harvest. I’ll send over some lychees.”

“Bob likes mangoes.”

“You know how mangoes go by in the market? But I might get George to get me a couple. He owes me a favour.”

The train was beginning to slow down. Claud put on his sunglasses, and handed a pair to Martha. And not a second sooner, because a series of bright specks began to appear in the horizon as soon as they put them on. They increased in number as the train drew nearer, and soon, the train was passing through a line of tall, transparent towers, each gleaming in the sunlight. The temperature inside the train increased in the heat reflected from the towers – the Agro-domes. Beads of sweat appeared on Martha’s forehead.

“Is it this hot inside the domes?” She asked.

“Depends on what you are growing.” Claud said. Sometimes it was even hotter, if you were growing a tropical fruit.

There were few passengers left in the train now – all workers in the agricultural district. Claud began to see some familiar faces, but did not greet them. Most of them were busy saying goodbye to their families.

The train screeched to a stop.

Claud gave his wife a cursory hug before he got down. Only workers were authorized to alight at the stop.

“I should have said goodbye to Bob,” he said.

“No worries. Just come back safe and sound, okay?” Martha held a handkerchief to her face now. If it had not been for the sunglasses, he could probably see tears in her eyes.

It’s the hormones, he thought. Then he remembered.

“You take care of yourself, too. Don’t stress yourself too much,” he said. “With the baby on the way, you know.” He was not much of a talker. It was these emotional things that usually died before they got out of his mouth.

The door closed, and the train was going back the way it came. Claud looked at the shrivelling figure of his wife, and waved. Then he picked up his backpack and joined the crowd at the entry gate. He scanned his ID card in and entered the detox room.

The ‘shift’ was about to begin.

#

Detoxification was a long process. The workers had to enter a large bathing room at first, where they had to strip down and shower for an hour, with a company provided disinfectant soap. Then they dried off using a towel, and spent another hour at the desiccation room. Next, each worker was assigned a separate room for another level of washing, this time with chemicals depending on the crop they were going to tend. Different plants had different kind of pests – bacteria, viruses, and fungi that could affect them, and in the confined environment, even a single fungal spore could cause a catastrophe.

Finally, they were assigned their clean-suits, and given a digital pad with instructions on their duties. They were lead to the domes, where they had to spend the duration of their ‘shifts’, which could range from two to ten months, depending on the harvest.

When the door to the Dome opened, a gust of warm air flew in. Claud assumed it would be a tropical fruit orchard, from the temperature. He looked at his pad. He was wrong.

(To be continued)