The Towering Poplar Sighs

A Dystopian/Utopian Vignette

Julia startles and stretches up out of her hammock.

“Julia?” her mom cries up from the base of the tree, her tree. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Okay, Mom. I’ll be down in a minute.”

She wipes the sleep from her eyes and pulls the mosquito net off the top of her cocoon. Grabbing hold of the knob in the trunk, she pulls herself onto her platform and pauses. With sleep-fogged eyes, she stares at the rippling water of the lake through a part in the canopy.

“Make sure you check the levels before you climb down.”

“I know, Mom,” she whines.

She turns and slips her legs over the platform. Her foot finds the first rung and she follows it down the straight poplar trunk, not forgetting to check the levels of the oxygen tank. It’s nearly at capacity.

Julia groans. It’s too hot today to change the tank but her mom will insist. If she hears ‘we must harvest if we are to survive’ one more time, she’ll gouge out her eardrums. She stumbles over a root and nearly pees her pants. She should have popped down to the biffy in the night when the first urge arose but the mosquitoes were ravenous. Abandoning her safe cave was not an option.

Her stomach rumbles as she steps into the house: hot blueberry muffins. Her mom is a doll. Jin’s already there; her older brother’s always much quicker to wake. Jolene hasn’t waited for her, already at her mom’s breast. She slides into her spot and swipes two hot muffins from the tin. Cutting each down the middle, she stuffs them with butter and closes them back up. The butter needs time to meld with its host. Julia hops up to fill her cup.

“Where’s Dad?” she asks as she flicks the tap from the oxygen-enhanced water tank.

“He already ate. He’s up the hill, stacking wood. He didn’t sleep much last night. Too worried that there isn’t enough deadfall to get us through the winter,” her Mom explains. She turns to her brother. “Jin, could you help him after breakfast?”

“But, Mom,” he whines. “I’m meeting Scott and Jack.”

“You can meet them after you help your dad.”

“Fine.”

Jin stills. His eyes find his mom’s again. “Do you mean help him to stack or search for more deadfall?”

“Why?”

“Stacking will take an hour and searching takes all day.”

“I don’t know what he needs. If it’s searching, you both will have to go.”

Julia and Jin both puff out their disappointment.

“Oh, my goodness. You can give your dad one day.”

“It’s summer holidays,” Jin complains.

“And...” their Mom asks with a furrowed brow.

“It’s hot,” Julia adds.

“Wow, we sure have spoiled you two,” she teases. “If we’re going to survive the winter, we have certain chores that can’t be skipped even if it’s your ‘holidays’.”

Julia’s skin crawls. Other families survive just fine without working during their holidays. Why was her dad an engineer and not a rich doctor or banker? Then they could just buy oxygen and firewood like Sarah’s parents do. Sarah doesn’t have to check oxygen levels or do chores all summer. She can just enjoy the lake and work on her tan.

The large generator across the lake rumbles as it wakes. The pause from its constant droning has ceased and the day’s begun. She stuffs half a buttered muffin into her mouth while the waterwheel begins to churn. I guess someone has to keep the machines working. Sarah’s dad isn’t the one keeping the neighbours alive, it’s Julia’s dad. Without the machine, the water would become stagnant, the fish would suffocate and die. Sarah wouldn’t be able to spend all summer tanning on her dock if the water stunk of death. Why does her dad make so much more money if Julia’s dad is the one the community relies on? It isn’t fair.

“Pardon me, Jules?” asks her mom.

Oops, she said that part aloud. “It’s nothing,” she mumbles through another mouthful of muffin. She chugs down her water and pushes herself up. “I’m going to get dressed and then help Dad,” Julia says and flashes her brother a mocking glare.

“Okay. Thanks, dear,” her mom replies, ignorant of her sass. She rises, placing sleepy Jolene into her oxygen basin. “What about you, Jin?”

“Fine,” he spouts. His chair squeals dramatically along the floor as he jumps up and is out the door before Jules can take a breath.

Her mom releases a sigh. “Teenagers.”

“You mean teenage boys, Mom.”

“Jules, you have your moments too.”

Her mom puts the kettle on and turns to the pile of dishes. Instead of shuffling around the mess into her ordered stacks, she stands still, staring out at the soft ridges on the water. “We really are blessed,” she whispers.

“Uh-huh,” Julia replies, shuffling next to her mom.

“Some folks suffer in this world and we have all we need.”

“U-huh.”

Her mom’s gaze flicks back to the kitchen. “How are the oxygen levels?”

“My tree’s nearly filled the tank.”

“That’s great. I think your tree has the most output of all of the surrounding forest.”

“Mom, why don’t we connect them all to one big tank like Regina’s family? It would make a lot less work.”

“I don’t know. Your dad doesn’t think it’s as efficient and since he’s the pro, I’m not going to question him. We must harvest as much as we can if we are to survive. We have another set of lungs now.”

Julia glances down at her sleeping baby sister’s tiny oxygen tank. The gentle whistling air slips over her cherub face so finely it doesn’t rustle a curl on her head. Maybe this tank was filled from Julia’s tree. She smiles. It won’t be long before Jolene will have her own breathing poplar tree to sleep in during warm nights. Life is so much better in the summer, sleeping in the canopies. She feels alive with the increased energy levels. She’d never choose to spend these nights in a bedroom like her mom does but her mom’s afraid of heights so is landlocked. Julia will have to return to her room when the air chills but she’ll hold out as long as she can. Life drains everyone quicker with the pumped-in oxygen air in the winter.

She takes a deep breath. She can almost see the healthy air pouring in through the windows. In the cities, everyone is stuck beneath masks. Out here, they can live over half the year free breathing.

“We really are lucky, Mom.”

“We sure are.”

Julia takes in the forest safeguard that wraps the lake.

“There are so many breathing trees here. Imagine if we were born in a desert.”

“No one lives in the desert anymore, my girl.”

“Don’t you ever daydream about a different world where we could travel and see all the places in Dad’s books?”

“I’ve given up daydreams. Who needs them when you live in utopia? Tell me one place that would be nicer than here.”

Julia would like to share the dreams she has of a different world—one free of worries. A world where they could meet new people, and fly the way past generations did in big airliners that streaked across the sky taking in the entire world, but she hesitates. That’s only a fantasy world. Dad’s books also show not as idealistic scenes; wars, plagues, and world destruction. Before the air thinned the people chose to hurt and destroy each other. Since the Earth fought back, they’re dependent on it for survival. There’s no time for war. There aren’t even enough people to start wars and everyone’s too busy working to live or harvesting. The Earth can be cruel and unforgiving for those lazy or unlucky. Not everyone lives within the Earth’s life-giving embrace like Julia and her family do.

“Okay, off you go. I want to get this place cleaned up before Jolene wakes.”

Julia shakes from her daydream. “Yes, Mom.” She hops up the stairs to her room to change. She’ll have to switch out the tank later so hopefully the humidity doesn’t rise like it did yesterday. But, if it does, she’ll paddle over to Sarah’s and spend the rest of the day swimming and sunning. Her mom’s right. Summer is their Eden. They are the rich ones.