Scott Mackay: Phytosphere

“Is it ever dark.”

“I know.”

“I wish Daddy was here. He never should have gone to the Moon.”

“Your dad’s had a rough year.”

“Yes, but he should have taken us with him.”

“The voucher was his from a long time ago. And he needed some time alone.”

“I’ve never been to the Moon. Half the kids in my class have already gone. Why don’t we get to go to the Moon?”

“You know the answer. Get into the shower. And don’t forget to take your asthma pill.”

“I’ve only got two left.”

“I’ll pop by the pharmacy after work.”

“Is Dad going to get a new job?”

“He’s going to worry about that when he gets back.”

“How’s he going to get back, now that the Tarsalans—”

“Hanna, let’s live a day at a time. The bus is going to be here in forty-five minutes.”

She left her daughter and went into the kitchen.

The kitchen windows were big, and the presence of that thing in the sky made itself felt in the hairs on the back of her neck. She lifted Hanna’s pill bottle from the windowsill. Like a good boy, Jake was crunching down his cornflakes. She willed there to be more than two pills in Hanna’s bottle, but willing things was so much magical thinking and, sure enough, only two remained.

She then checked the cupboards for food. Canned stew, soup, vegetables, fruits, and tomato sauce lined the shelves. How long was this thing going to last, and was food going to be a problem, and was she letting her imagination run away with her, like she always did?

She opened the fridge. Stocked full of stuff. But she needed more. People were hoarding, and the grocery stores around Old Hill couldn’t keep up. She heard Hanna getting into the shower. Only where was she going to get the money to buy more groceries? And the fuel cell in the car needed recharging.

And the car’s software was due for an update, and how was she going to pay for that? She took a few breaths, trying to calm herself. If only she could get a few more hours at the nursing home; they just might make ends meet if she had more shifts at Cedarvale.

The phone rang, not the interlunar one but the regular one, the one spelled with “ph.” She hurried over, thinking she might miraculously receive information about Gerry, but when she turned on the vidscreen, she saw Louise’s face, sharp, crystal-clear—uncanny what a good transmitting set would do. She was sure Louise saw nothing but a blur.

“Glenda?”

“Hi, Louise.”

“Can you fix your contrast? I can hardly see you.”

Crappy Home Tech brand, fifteen years old; no wonder Louise couldn’t see her. She was sick of having crappy things and living in a crappy house. She pressed the appropriate function key.

“Is that better?”

“You need a new set.”

“Where are you calling from?”

“Trunk Bay.”

“Oh. You’re down there.”

“Have you heard from Gerry yet?”

“No. AT&T Interlunar is still working on the problem.”

“Neil wanted me to phone you. To see how you were doing. Is it dark there yet?”

“You can’t see open sky anymore. The last of it disappeared a few days ago.”

“It’s worrisome, isn’t it?”

“Does Neil have anything to say about it?”

Because surely her genius brother-in-law would save them from all this.

“The Secret Service came for him yesterday,” said Louise. “I imagine he’s been in meetings ever since.”

“Oh… so he’s going to…”

“They’ve drafted him for it.”

“And does he have any ideas… I mean… about what to do?”

“He’s confident he can get rid of it in as little as two weeks. You know Neil.”

“So you think it’ll be over in two weeks?” Her shoulders eased in relief.

“That’s the timetable Neil’s given himself. And you know Neil. How are the kids, by the way? How’s Hanna’s asthma?”

“It always gets worse this time of the year. All the pollen.”

“And Jake’s okay?”

“Jake’s fine. He’s loving all this… this craziness. He thinks it’s cool.”

“Did they give you more hours at the nursing home yet?”

She looked away. “The lady who was supposed to leave might not leave now.”

“Oh… because if you need a little help… and I don’t want you to think of it as charity…but with Gerry stuck on the Moon… Neil and I just thought… you know, if you needed a little extra help to tide you over, we’d be happy to…”

Glenda’s lower lip stiffened. “No… I think I can manage.” Glenda, just cave in, swallow your pride, you need the money. “I have a little put away for emergencies.” Lies, lies, lies.

“And you’ve got enough to pay for Hanna’s medicine?”

“Oh, yes… of course.” Shift away from your own neediness, Glenda. Focus on kids. “How are the girls, Louise?”

“We’re always worried about Morgan.”

“Morgan’s a sweetheart.”

“I just wish she’d learn how to read. She’s ten years old. She should know how to read by now.”

“Kids have their own schedules for that kind of thing.”

“Glenda… if you get into trouble… or if this thing goes on for any length of time and you need some help, just call us. Don’t be proud. I can’t stand the thought of you and your kids going without.”

“We’ll be fine, Louise. Really we will.”

But as she disconnected the call, she felt worried again. Why did she have this senseless pride? Why was it so important for her to show Neil and Louise that she and Gerry could make a go of it, and that they could cope in the face of adversity? She pushed these thoughts from her mind, as they were the same old ones she always had, nothing new. Better to take a positive outlook; this whole thing was going to blow over, she was going to get more hours at the nursing home, Gerry was going to come home from the Moon and find a great job, and they would work it out and have the same kind of picture-book marriage Louise and Neil did.

But in the meantime…

In the meantime.

She went back to the cupboard and looked at the food. She had a vision. Of a green world turning brown. Of food disappearing. Of massive famine.

Surely it wouldn’t come to that.

But if it did…

She walked to the basement door, opened it, went downstairs, glanced around at the junk, and spied Jake’s old toy box, red and yellow, made of chipboard, with a clown face painted on the front. The basement light went on as she passed the sensor. She lifted the antique, rolled-up maps, the ones Gerry had collected over the years—not because he used them, just because he liked them—opened the toy box, and saw a lot of action figures, toy vehicles, and a toy xylophone. She emptied the toys on the floor, took the box upstairs, and placed it on the counter.

“That’s my toy box,” said Jake.

“Do you mind if I use it?”

“What do you need it for?”

“I’m going to bury some treasure. You can help, if you get ready in time.”

“Mom, we don’t have any treasure. We’re broke.”

“I think we should bury some food.”

“Why?”

“Just in case we need it.”

“Why don’t we keep the food in the cupboard, where it belongs?”

“Because I think we should have a backup cache.”

She took cans and jars of nonperishable food from the cupboard and placed them in the toy box. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Jake staring at her, his corn-flakes forgotten, a hint of fear tracing apprehension on his smooth young face.

“Why bury food?” he asked.

“Just in case things get bad.”

“Things won’t get bad, Mom. You just have to believe that they won’t.”

“You sound like your father.”