Altered Seasons_MONSOONRISE

by Paul Briggs

  Walt shook his head. “You know, people keep comparing this thing we’re going through to a war,” he said. “‘Treat it like a war,’ they say. I say no! Don’t treat it like a war, because it’s not a war! It’s just weather! There’s no planning, there’s no intent, there’s no will behind it! When there’s a dust storm, it’s not somebody kicking sand in your face, it’s just nature!” He’d wanted to say don’t rain on my leg and tell me it’s peeing, but decided at the last moment that it would sound silly.

  “In this country—in the whole world, to be honest—we’ve lost sight of something very basic. The purpose of government is to protect you from one thing, and one thing only. Other people. Criminals. Invading armies. Other people that want to violate and take away your rights. It’s in the Declaration of Independence. ‘To secure these rights, governments are instituted among men.’

  “And what are rights? Rights are boundaries.” Walt was going to work the title of his new book into this monologue if it killed him. “Rights are rules—‘don’t touch me, don’t touch my stuff.’ We as human beings are supposed to respect these rules. But nature doesn’t respect these rules. Nature doesn’t think. Nature doesn’t care. Nature says sooner or later we all have to die, but that does not make nature a murderer.

  “And this is where people keep going wrong. We don’t just want the government to protect us from each other, we want it to protect us from nature. Which is why the SUSTAIN Act turned into the monster it did. And now that monster is dead, we have, in this country, a golden opportunity.

  “Right now, as we speak, people in Ohio and Illinois and Michigan and Wisconsin and a bunch of other places going through the Monsoon again—the people there are cooperating to survive, the way they did last year! They’re policing their own neighborhoods, holding little informal lessons for their kids, getting their own sick and wounded to the hospitals that are still open! What if we just… let them do it? What if we stopped trying to help them and let them help themselves? Let them hang on to their dignity? What if we all just agree that whatever nature does to us, we’re not going to steal from each other to fight it?”

  Walt took a deep breath. “Listen to me,” he said. “This part is important. The United States is uniquely blessed with its limited need for government. A lot of countries—even if they got that the only reason for government is to protect you from other people, they still need big governments because they need big armies, because they’ve gotta worry about their neighbors. In Europe they gotta worry about Russia, Russia’s gotta worry about China, China’s gotta worry about Japan… they need strong governments because their neighbors have strong governments. That’s their tough luck.

  “But guess what? It’s not ours! Who do we have to be afraid of, really? Canada hasn’t got enough people in it, Mexico can’t get its shit together, and Cuba and the rest are too damn small! And for the rest of the world, generations of crazy-high defense spending have left us with all the superweapons we’ll ever need, and then some. For a lot of our history, we were able to get by with one of the smallest armies in the world. It was only when Woodrow Wilson decided it was time for us to step up and become a Great Power that things started going downhill.

  “The point is—we’ve already got everything we need. We’ve got the know-how. We’ve got the resources. As a country, we have the potential to save ourselves, naturally, if the government would just stop trying so hard. Just… let it happen. Stop listening to the people who say, ‘Why can’t we have nice things?’ We can have freedom. And freedom is the nicest thing of all. We’ll be right back.”

  This year, the massive belt of rain around the Northern Hemisphere resembled a square rather than a triangle—or perhaps a diamond centered almost exactly on the prime meridian and the International Date Line.

  One corner stretched harmlessly over a vast, empty reach of the North Pacific, south of the Aleutians. It bothered no one, and helped to cool a ridge of heated water that had built up southwest of the Queen Charlotte Islands.

  Another corner struck the north-central United States, the same region that had been devastated by the previous year’s Monsoon. It was not quite so severe as that flood, but it stretched from the Dakotas to upstate New York and as far south as Springfield, Illinois. Things that had been shoddily repaired, or not repaired to withstand the Monsoon, were quickly washed away again.

  The third corner stretched from the Atlantic Ocean over Western Europe, covering the north coast of Spain as far as the mountains, all of France, the north slopes of Switzerland and southern Germany.

  The fourth corner, in the heart of Asia, had the most dramatic impact. Over the course of that autumn, one to three feet of rain fell from Lake Balkhash to the Khingan Range. Nothing even close to that had ever happened before in all recorded history. The thin soil of Mongolia could not possibly absorb such a deluge. It all had to go somewhere.

  Much of it went to the Turpan Depression. The hot, dry depression was well below sea level and had no outlet, so the water that flowed there stayed there, and the silt and debris it picked up sank to the bottom of the depression and raised its floor slightly.

  Lake Turpan was born.

  * * *

  From what Isabel could see of Hunter on the little screen, he’d never looked better. It wasn’t just that he’d lost even more weight, or that he was looking a lot fitter, or that he’d finally managed to grow a full beard. (And how had that happened? He’d never been able to build up more than a layer of scruff.) He looked self-possessed. Confident. Like somebody who’d finally grown up. I wonder what he’ll be like when he comes back. I can hardly wait to find out.

  He was sitting in what looked like a small loft apartment. Rain spattered the window behind him—western Canada wasn’t getting the worst of this year’s Monsoon, but nowhere along the jet stream was really safe.

  “So… uh… what news from the North, tree-planters of Rohan?”

  “We’ve all pretty much abandoned the far north for the rest of the year,” said Hunter. “I’m living in Lethbridge right now.”

  “How are you keeping yourself together?”

  “I’m a cook at Martin’s. It’s this sort of soup kitchen/restaurant.”

  “A soup-kitchen-slash-restaurant,” said Isabel. “How does that work, exactly?”

  “There’s a very basic meal—mug of vegetable soup, a roll, glass of water—you can get that for free twice a day. Not much, I know, but it’s as much as we can afford to give. If you want something more, you pay for it. Think of it like UBI, only with food instead of money. My job is making the free soup.”

  “They really should be paying for that.”

  “They are. Half our paying customers are people wanting a second mug of soup. Or a whole bowl.”

  “What sort of customers do you get?”

  “A lot of people from southern Ontario. Refugees, basically. Martin says they’ll be in town until spring and head back once the snow melts. Speaking of food, what are you eating lately?”

  “I’m not as good a cook as you, but I can manage,” said Isabel. “And I’ve been getting a dozen or so crabs a week from Pop.”

  “Good,” said Hunter. “Right now I’m… not exactly a vegetarian, but pretty close. We don’t have a lot of meat, and we save most of what we do have for winter when we really need the calories.”

  “So what do you make this famous soup out of?”

  “To be honest, some days it’s more famous than others,” he said. “It kind of depends on what vegetables we can get. Today all I had was eggplant and potato and rye flour for thickening, so I toasted the flour just a tiny bit to give the whole thing kind of a roux-like flavor and I browned the eggplant a little and… I’m going into food geek mode. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. We’re both masters of boring conversation.” Isabel paused. “Seems like you’re doing great.”

  “I am. It seems weird, but I’ve never been happier. This whole country is so beaten up, but everybody here… it’
s like we look at each other and we know we’re all part of the same thing.”

  “You’re actually making it sound kind of like a cult.”

  Hunter laughed his odd, hissing laugh. “Yeah, I guess you could say that,” he said. “It’s like this whole country is a cult, but there’s no leader. Or maybe the weather is the leader.”

  “What about the government? Don’t you have one of those?”

  “Yeah, but it kinda has its hands full.” Hunter sighed, and stopped smiling. “Look, Isabel, I called for a reason.”

  This sounded serious.

  “I called to tell you I won’t be coming back this fall and I don’t know how long I’ll be staying. It could be another year. Or two. Or… I don’t know when I’ll be back, and I don’t want you spending too long waiting for me.”

  This sounded bad. This sounded very bad.

  “I know you,” he said. “You’re faithful. You keep your promises. I’m just saying you don’t have to keep this one.” He took a deep breath. “And… um… well… I’ve met someone.”

  For a moment, Isabel’s brain tried to interpret this sentence as I met a total stranger the other day and he has nothing to do with any of this, but I just thought I’d mention him. She had to force it to even consider the obvious meaning.

  “Her name is Annie,” he said. “Actually, no, that’s not her name. Her name is… well, never mind. We call her Annie. She’s not… no one could ever replace you, but… I don’t know, I just feel completely in sync with her like I’ve never felt with anybody before. And I’ve… we’ve reached the point where I can’t break things off with her without hurting her.”

  “Does she know about me?”

  “She does. She feels bad about it, but she can’t… she said she’s leaving it up to me. That she trusts me to do what’s right for me.”

  “And… this is what’s right for you.”

  “Not just me. All of us. You, me, her. I can’t keep you waiting when I don’t know if I’m ever coming back. I can’t keep her at arm’s length when…” He paused. “We love each other. There. I said it.”

  Isabel just sat there, blinking.

  “I love you, too,” said Hunter, his voice catching a little. “That’s what makes it hurt. I’m so sorry. I… you deserved better than this from me.”

  Isabel sighed. She could see the tears in his eyes. “So… that’s it, then.” Maybe later, she would get angry. Almost certainly, later she would cry. Right now, her brain was on autopilot, telling her the next thing that needed to be done.

  “A lot of your stuff is still here,” she said. “Where do I send it?”

  Hunter gave her an address. “We’ll split the cost,” he said. “I’ve got some money now, and I know it’s not as cheap as it used to be.”

  “Not as fast, either,” said Isabel. “Especially right now. I can get it in the mail tomorrow, but I’m not making any promises about when it’s coming.”

  Hunter nodded. “That’s the great thing about you. A lot of girls would be piling my stuff up in the parking lot and setting it on fire.”

  “That wouldn’t be very carbon-neutral.”

  They both laughed at that, but only a little.

  “I want you to know I’m… I’m really grateful. You stood by me when I didn’t deserve it. I’ll never forget you.”

  Isabel bit her lip. The seconds ticked by. Neither of them wanted to break the connection, knowing this might be the last time they ever saw each other.

  Finally Isabel spoke. “I love you. Let’s end this.”

  Hunter nodded. “Goodbye.”

  The screen went black.

  So now my boyfriend in Canada has a girlfriend in Canada. I suppose I should have seen that coming.

  Isabel made a call. “Kristen?” she said. “At some point in the next week or so I might need a shoulder to cry on. Are you going to be available?”

  “Of course,” she said. “Did Hun—I mean, what’s wrong?”

  Is it that obvious? “Yeah, Hunter and I just broke up. Don’t tell anybody just yet, okay? I want to tell them when I’m good and ready.” And in the meantime, I don’t want to hear anybody saying “I told you so” or “Good riddance.” Especially not Chelsey.

  After the call was done, Isabel took out her earpiece and set it to Playlist 4, which was all Epifania and Laura Bronzino instead of the rhust she usually favored. Rhust was all about staring into the face of every primal fear and dark impulse, confronting your anxieties head-on and kicking their asses. Right now, she needed the musical equivalent of a hug. (“I’ll come back to you, I swear. We’ll be together again.” “I’ll be waiting.”)

  While she was listening, she checked his social media for signs of this “Annie” who wasn’t named “Annie.” Finally, she found a photo, dated a week ago, of Hunter and a girl named “H. Gorman” with their arms around each other. The girl was petite and looked part Asian, with a heart-shaped face and a delicate, fragile sort of beauty that Isabel had never possessed in her life.

  She went into the kitchen for a fresh cup of chyq. Practically everything in the kitchen reminded her of him. It had once been his domain.

  It bothered him to be living off me. That’s why he learned how to cook—so he could give something back.

  All I ever wanted was for him to be happy, and now he is. He’s turned into exactly the kind of guy I always hoped he could be. A little more than that, even. Why couldn’t it have happened while he was with me? Was I doing something wrong?

  Did he ever actually love me? Or did he just need me?

  Canada was not the only nation trying to help important biomes in their migration toward the poles. Off the northeast coast of Australia, only the southern quarter of the Great Barrier Reef still supported anything resembling a functioning ecosystem, and it was in a perilous state. One chemical spill, one population explosion among the crown-of-thorns starfish, and the last piece of the Reef might die.

  At the same time, the waters south of the reef were now warm enough to support coral populations of their own. So this spring, the Australian government succumbed to necessity and began trying to build new reefs, setting aside stretches of shallow coastal water away from the shipping lanes. Such places were not easy to find on the more heavily populated southeast coast. New Zealand was trying the same experiment.

  Of course, one can’t simply plant a coral reef any more than one can plant a forest. The most the Australians and New Zealanders could do was create the first stage of the process and encourage helpful organisms to settle there while trying to keep away those that might devour it before it could properly establish itself. But even this was made more difficult by the lowered pH of the ocean.

  * * *

  In years gone by, the screen over the bar in the restaurant would have been tuned to a sports channel. Now it was on the news, letting everyone know about the progress of the Monsoon and which counties needed evacuating this week. Admittedly, it was TKB news, so Isabel only trusted it so far. The Chinese weather-control device had to be bullshit, and the cannibal gangs going around on flatboats also sounded pretty dubious. But it was definitely still raining in the upper Midwest this evening. You had to take your points of common reality where you could get them.

  Why am I doing this again?

  There’s no reason not to. An old… acquaintance is coming through the area and wants to meet. I’ve got the time.

  It’s been two years. How much could she possibly have changed?

  It was 5 p.m. The dinner rush hadn’t started. She was supposed to have arrived by now.

  She always did run five minutes late. Never on time, but never fifteen minutes late either. Always five to ten minutes. You’d think she’d learn to do everything ten minutes sooner.

  The first time they’d met, Isabel had thought she was the luckiest girl in the world. It was like a cheesy anime come to life—a girl much more beautiful and sophisticated than herself had suddenly just glommed onto her out of nowhere. Toward the end, thou
gh… “Why do you always have to be so defensive?” “How about this—you stop attacking, I’ll stop defending!” “I’m trying to help you! You just can’t take a little honest criticism!” “Who the fuck died and made you Pope? You act like you have this perfect moral judgment and I should just accept everything you say as God’s own truth!”

  I’ve never tolerated physical abuse. I never should have tolerated emotional abuse. I broke up with her because the alternative was me punching her in the face.

  We’re just meeting for dinner. That’s all. If it turns out she’s like she used to be, we get separate checks and go our separate ways, no real harm done.

  “Isabel?”

  Isabel looked up over her shoulder.

  Laurie.

  She did look a little different—instead of dyeing her whole head of hair, she had left it brunette and put indigo highlights at the tips. She was dressed as if for a job interview in a white blouse, dark brown jacket, and matching skirt, but Isabel couldn’t focus on the clothes. She kept looking at Laurie’s face.

  It was the face she’d fallen in love with. It wasn’t just a beautiful face, but a kind one. The brown eyes went right into you like sunlight through the windows. The little twitch in the corners of the mouth promised subtle, gentle humor. Everything about the way she looked at you said I understand you and I love you, I have seen your soul and it isn’t so bad, I can help you with your pain. In short, Laurie’s face wrote checks that bounced the minute she opened her mouth.

  “You’re looking great,” said Laurie.

  “Thanks. You… well, you always look great.”

  Laurie sat down with her usual smooth grace. “Let me get this out of the way right now,” she said. “You were right. I was wrong. I’m sorry. End of story.”