Inside The Earth’s Fracture: Chapter Two

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Catch up on Chapter One, here.

CHAPTER TWO

“Enough! You’re almost 18 now. You should know what kind of conversation belongs at the dinner table, and what doesn’t.”
It was the third time that week I’d tried getting them to talk about my new protest idea. In our daily literature class, we’d been taught the persuasive properties of the ‘rule of three’; I imagined them swooning from the power of hat-tricks and immediately backing me up. Evidently, I was wrong.

“Girls your age should be worrying about the future. Have you finished your application for summer school?” My sheepish silence assured him I hadn’t. “No. Because you’ve been wasting time on this rubbish.”

My parents meant well, at least that’s what they always said. They were totally committed to the fight…as long as it never sent dust cascading onto their carpets or required them to disturb the blissfully ignorant peace at the town hall. Sometimes, in the moments just before a slammed door, I would wish we were back in the early days of the split so they could see the consequences of their inaction. Then the door would bang and I’d berate myself for being cruel enough to wish anyone back there.

“Ari, you know we care about the environment as much as anyone, but it’s not like before. People are paid to do all that protesting for us. Don’t you think we should leave the experts to their work?”

I’d learnt long ago that this wasn’t a question. It was a statement disguised by the rising tone that followed a rising eyebrow.

“Yes, Father.”

I couldn’t understand how my parents never minded that those “experts” cared about nothing more than money. They’d simply build a new lifestyle for themselves with the community’s funding – funding that should have completely depolluted the rivers by now. That’s how it went among the Martyrs. The public paid the protesters to raise their voice while the Council paid them to quieten it down. There should have been riots, wailing, anger. But everyone continued on with their day, happy with this unproductive equilibrium. A happiness that made me want to scream.

“I just want to make it right,” I whispered.

“We know. But it’s time you move on to more important things, like school…”

We all knew I stopped listening at that point, but it benefitted everyone to trudge through the rest of the conversation. They could sleep easy that night knowing they’d ticked a box on the parenting bingo and I could go back to eating.

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“Kai, come sit with your Baba. How did that exam go?”

I put the book down on the counter where I knew Padre would see it. Its cover was one of the most beautiful I’d ever seen, with its leafy shroud and “Advanced Geo-Sociology” marked in gold letters on the front. It looked just like those paper books Ms. Cahnel had shown us when we learnt what trees used to look like.

“Fine,” I offered, “not my best but I got top of the class.”

“That’s plenty to be proud of,” countered Baba, “not everything has to be perfect, you know.”

“Padre would disagree.”

He sighed. Everyone said my Baba was a compassionate man, and he’d already proved himself strong enough to face a herd of mountain lions when they cornered us during the split. But no-one could fully face Padre when he put on his stern look. He was like a bull with a red cloth dangling inches away from his face, and he never once took his eyes off the mission: save the planet, properly this time.

I shouldn’t complain. He was the reason I campaigned so thoroughly and so often. And I knew both of them would do whatever it took to restore balance between us and nature. But the world moved so slowly, it seemed impossible to get anything done.
Padre’s entrance brought my musings back to reality…

“How was the protest?” Every Friday, like clockwork, he’d ask about the weekly demonstration.
“You haven’t even sat down! Give them time before you start interrogating them.” Like always, Baba threw me a life raft before the ship even set sail.

“It’s okay,” I assured him, before I launched into a detailed map of our march – who showed up, which streets we walked down, how many cameras were directed in our faces, and everything in between. Here, Padre and I were on common ground. This conversation could have lasted all week.

“That’s my child! Now, the next one needs to be bigger. I want you to get everyone you can find to the Council’s offices next Thursday. This time, we’ll surprise them.”

“And school?” interjected Baba. For as long as I could remember, he’d insisted I get a good education, “for education is our ticket out!” He’d worked countless hours of overtime to pay for books and classes and workshops and tutoring. It was his passion and his biggest regret. A regret I had inherited and had to outrun.

“They know about school. Don’t you, Kai?” said Padre.

“Of course.”

“Well then, get off to bed. I’ve got a stellar opportunity for you tomorrow. You’ll need all the sleep you can get.”

Keep an eye out for Chapter Three, coming soon…!