A Spider Sat Beside Her

by K E Lanning

  Sevy pointed to the next net over. “I’m ordering Snapper Almandine, with those little baby potatoes on the side.”

  Lowry looked toward the shore where a robot was hauling up traps filled with wriggling crustaceans. “Lobster for me—drenched in butter.”

  They stretched out on the sandy beach and soaked up the sun, filtered and reflected through the dome above them.

  After a few minutes, Lowry sat up and scooped up a handful of sand. She let the sand fall through her fingers. “Here we are sunbathing on a beach, hurtling around the Earth in a tin can.”

  Sevy put his hands behind his head and looked at her, arching his brow. “Tin can?” He stood up and brushed the sand off his pants. “This is a pretty sophisticated tin can—the best money can buy.”

  They wandered to the other side of the Garden, and Sevy pointed at an overgrown briar patch near the side of the Garden capsule. “What’s all that?”

  Lowry shrugged. “It’s supposed to be a berry patch of raspberries, blackberries, and blueberries, but they are hugely overgrown. The botanist has been fussing at Adam to trim them back.”

  They neared the cornfield, with only the brown and dried corn stalks left after the harvest.

  Lowry gestured at the maze cut into the tall stalks. “They used a computer program and robot tractors to cut the maze—it’s really cool.”

  Zoë grinned. “Let’s get lost!” she yelled and then bolted toward the narrow entry.

  Sevy snapped his fingers for Poppy to keep up as they ran after Zoë. They raced to the entrance, shoving each other playfully as they reached the front of the maze. Laughing, they slowed to a walk as the tall dried corn plants encircled them.

  Sevy pulled up a map on his watch as they approached the first turn and pointed to the right. “This way.”

  Lowry wagged her index finger at him. “You’re cheating, Sevy. We’re supposed to try and find our way without the map.”

  He shrugged and turned off the screen with a sigh.

  Halfway down the side of the maze, they came to a fork. Zoë pursed her lips. “Maybe we head to the left?”

  They slowed down as the path through the corn narrowed—the air was heavy and still. Laughing, Lowry and Zoë led the way forward, skipping through the corn.

  Sevy dropped back, and then he called out nervously, “Wait, guys.”

  The wind machines kicked in and a breeze picked up. The towering stalks of corn rustled like dried paper.

  “Come on, Sevy!” Zoë waved at him to catch up. “We think we’re close to the center.”

  A buzzing insect flew past Sevy’s face, and he jerked back. “Bees—I think I hear bees.” He flung his arms around his head and then ran backwards, away from the buzzing sound. “Help! I’m getting out—I might be allergic to bee stings.”

  “Sevy, just stay still. They won’t sting you,” Lowry said.

  Still swiping at imaginary insects, Sevy bolted out of the maze. Zoë and Lowry looked at each other and shrugged. They followed him back out to the entrance.

  Sevy stood with his arms crossed, biting his lip and staring at the ground, his face flushed with embarrassment.

  “I guess you can’t get stung in virtual reality.” Lowry shook her head. “Reality’s a bitch, Sevy.”

  Zoë smirked. “Lowry, I think you just composed Sevy’s motto.”

  With an angry glance, Sevy snapped, “People can die from bee stings—why do they have bees loose up here?”

  Lowry raised her eyebrows and extended her hands out. “Without bees, there is no pollination and no crops, Sevy.”

  “Someone should create an artificial pollination system so we can get rid of all the nasty bugs.”

  The dry stalks of corn trembled, and Adam appeared from behind them with a peculiar grin on his face. “Miss Lowry, I have an Aesop’s fable, if you and your friends want to hear it?”

  Lowry nodded with a smile. “Yes, Adam, please,” she said, ignoring the raised eyebrows of Zoë and the grimace on Sevy’s face.

  Adam pushed his glasses back on his face and moved in front of them as if the entrance of the maze were center stage.

  He lifted his hand into the air and began to recite in a clear voice: “At a country fair, there was a buffoon who made all the people laugh by imitating the cries of various animals. He finished off by squeaking so like a pig that the spectators thought that he had a porker concealed about him.

  But a countryman who stood by said, ‘Call that a pig’s squeak! Nothing like it. You give me till tomorrow, and I will show you what it’s like.’

  The audience laughed, but the next day, sure enough, the countryman appeared on the stage. Putting his head down, he squealed so hideously that the spectators hissed and threw stones at him to make him stop.

  ‘You fools!’ he cried. ‘See what you have been hissing.’ And he held up a little pig whose ear he had been pinching to make him utter the squeals.”

  Adam smiled, and then his eye twitched as he glanced toward Sevy. “The moral is this: men often applaud an imitation and hiss the real thing.”

  Sevy clenched his jaw and shot an angry look at Adam. “Thanks, Adam, for the fable.” He picked up Poppy and shot a look at Lowry. “Now you see the problem with reality? It’s too real.” He turned and stormed out of the Garden.

  CHAPTER 6

  It was her three-month anniversary on the ISS. Lowry gazed out her window at the Earth hanging in the dark sky. A gorgeous jewel—but after the Melt, more sapphire than emerald.

  She hummed a few bars of a song written and sung with the bitter note of a world with too many humans on too little land.

  The ice melted, the water rose, and the land went under.

  The ice melted, the oceans flowed, and our lives went under.

  It struck her that the last time she had sung that song was at the beach when she was five years old, after the melting had begun in earnest.

  ***

  The heat shimmered above the shoreline. Lowry meandered down the beach, pressing her toes into the soft, wet sand. Seagulls shrieked, hovering over the shore.

  “Watch the wave, Lowry!” her mother called to her.

  The wave raced up the beach, and she squealed as it encircled her feet. Giggling, she scampered up the beach, dancing just beyond the foam. “Ha, ha, didn’t get me!” she sang, taunting the wave.

  Her mother ran and caught her around the waist. “The wave didn’t get you, but I did!” They fell to the ground, and a larger wave engulfed them both. They sat up, laughing and gasping from the saltwater.

  Her father’s brother, Nick, helped them up and wrapped Lowry in a towel.

  Lowry wiped her face. “Uncle Nick, are you helping us move to the new house?”

  “Yes, sweetie, except your mother tells me that we’re selling all of your stuff.” Nick pulled her wet braids, and his green eyes sparkled in amusement.

  Wagging her head, she stuck out her tongue at him and then sat down to dig in the sand.

  “That’s not a bad idea, Nick; then we could move into a much smaller home.” Her mother stuck her tongue out at Lowry.

  Lowry opened her mouth to protest but grinned when she realized her mother was teasing.

  Margaret spread out the blanket while Nick set up the umbrella and beach chairs. She opened the lunch basket, calling to Lowry, “Come eat, sweetie.”

  After lunch, Lowry threw her bread crusts into the air, shouting in delight as the gulls snatched the bread in mid-air. She chased crabs crawling along the beach and then sat down to finish her sand castle.

  Nick sighed as he gazed out at the Gulf waters. “It’s just amazing how far inland the beach has moved since the start of the melting.” He ran his fingers through his auburn hair and pointed into the far distance to a steeple of an old church, where the cross was visible between the swells. “Houston is almost completely underwater now, and the water is still moving west.”

  A deep sadness came into Margaret’s brown eyes. “All the coastal cities los
t under the waves. And the citrus groves in South Texas—drowned.” She gazed out at the sparkling water. “But it’s odd that the Gulf is so blue and clear now.”

  Nick nodded. “The currents have changed, and the Mississippi mud isn’t heading this way anymore. If it continues to flood the lowlands without the influx of silt, you might see a carbonate bank develop along the Texas Gulf Coast. Most people may not know, but there used to be carbonate reefs all along the Texas coast millions of years ago.”

  Lowry strained her ears to hear as her mother said hoarsely, “It’s frightening to see the water creep up the street and families forced to pack up and move to dry land. Millions of people are fleeing the coasts, never to return.”

  Nick sighed. “Yes, and most of the great, historic seaports of the world, drowned like Atlantis.”

  Her mother looked up at him. “Nick, what’s going to happen to us? Where will the water stop?

  Lowry dug furiously in the sand.

  “I don’t know, Margaret. There’s not enough data to predict how high the water will reach. The icecaps are still melting, and no one knows how far down they will go.” He shook his head as he looked out to sea. “Icecaps that have been in place since humans first appeared on the earth, disappearing within a human lifespan. It’s just unbelievable.” He rubbed his face thoughtfully. “Maybe this is the end of the last ice age—in the geologic record, there are so many instances of massive swings of sea levels.”

  Margaret gazed out at the water. “But even if we are in a cycle of warming climate, couldn’t air pollution and cutting of forests have exacerbated the warming, creating a tipping point?”

  Nick bent down, catching a candy wrapper blowing across the sand, and angrily crushed it in his hand. “Humans excel at two things: having children and consuming resources. Did we, in our madness to procreate, overwhelm the stasis of the Earth?”

  Her mother shook her head. “And it’s sick the way that politics played a hand in this disaster.” She sighed and continued sadly. “There is such a delicate balance of humans versus nature, and I’m afraid that nature has given us the answer to our own stupidity.”

  Lowry felt her mother’s hand upon her head. She looked up at her mother’s face, frowning at the worry in her eyes. “Mommy, are we going to be all right?”

  Her mother’s face softened as she smiled down at her. “Yes, baby, we’ll be fine.” Then she pointed out to sea. “Look, Lowry—the dolphins are dancing for us!”

  Lowry jumped up. Nick came over and lifted her onto his shoulders so she could see the dolphins leap out of the water in front of them. Lowry giggled and clapped her hands in delight.

  Nick stared ahead and asked her mother softly, “How’s Duff?”

  They did not look at each other. Margaret replied dully, “Fine. I haven’t seen him lately.”

  They watched the dolphins move through the surf, their glistening bodies cutting through the waves like knives.

  Nick cleared his throat. “I may see him before you do—I’m scheduled to go back to Antarctica soon. I believe he will be helping manage one of the seismic crews down there temporarily.”

  Margaret touched his arm. “I know we have you to thank for getting him that job.”

  Nick shrugged. “Perhaps he can find a more permanent position back in the States after that.”

  Lowry waved at the dolphins as they raced away down the shore, past an abandoned car with sparkling waves crashing over its hood. Though she loved her father, she knew it was best not to ask questions about him.

  Nick squatted down, and Lowry hopped off his shoulders. She knelt in the sand, troweling a hole under her castle until she connected it to the other side. She put her hand through the tunnel and waved to herself.

  Her mother gestured with her hand. “We have to finish packing tonight, so let’s get going.”

  Nick and her mother packed everything and then headed for the car. Her mother called over her shoulder, “Come on, Lowry. We have to leave now.”

  Lowry looked at the water, now threatening her tunnel as the tide drove the waves farther up the beach. The sea oozed into the tunnel entrance, caving in the sides of the tunnel. A tear from her eye added to the saltwater as the waves continued to invade, washing away her castle.

  “Lowry!” her mother repeated sternly.

  She stood up as the next wave completely covered her creation. She turned and ambled toward the car. Her mother motioned her over to a hose and washed the sand off her. She bundled her up in a towel, and Lowry climbed into the back of the vehicle. Nick started the car, and they moved away from the beach.

  They passed a family pushing their belongings in a wheelbarrow, the parents’ faces drawn and tight, but the children skipped along, dragging sticks through the full ditches.

  They drove the outer loop around the northern side of Houston, which was not yet flooded. They climbed an overpass facing the flooded downtown, and Nick pulled to the shoulder. “Let’s jump out and wave goodbye to Houston, Lowry. It’s going to be a beautiful sunset.”

  Margaret helped Lowry out and then held her in her arms. “Okay, Nick, but we can’t stay long.”

  The placid blue water of the Gulf of Mexico lapped against the deserted skyscrapers of Houston as the sun splashed neon orange across the clouds. Seabirds wheeled near the tops of the buildings, and fish swam in offices once filled with thousands of people.

  Nick gripped the guardrail. “No more big deals being conceived—just turf battles among the sea life, where the big fish really do eat the little fish.” Nick pointed to the glass building with a granite Mayan temple on top. “Look at the Heritage Plaza building and the reflection of the Mayan pyramid in the water.”

  To the west, a spotlight revolving on one of the towers caught Margaret’s eye. “Lowry, the Williams Tower beacon is on.”

  Lowry clapped her hands at the beacon of light reflecting on the placid bay.

  Nick said, “I remember they converted it to solar before the water flooded west of downtown, but that was years ago. Amazing that it’s still functioning.”

  “Look down there.” Margaret pointed to a neighborhood below them—row upon row of houses inundated with water, their roofs barely visible.

  “Mommy, you’re crying,” Lowry said, touching her mother’s face.

  Her mother hugged her. “It’s just so sad. People work all their lives to own a home, and then it disappears under the ocean. Insurance companies have gone bankrupt or are just denying claims. Folks have nothing left but what they have salvaged from their homes.”

  Margaret turned to Nick. “I cannot begin to thank you for helping us, Nick. I don’t know what we would have done without you helping us move after the house was condemned.”

  A lopsided grin flashed across his face. “I’m glad that I was stateside for a training class, and besides, it’s the least I could do.”

  “It was lucky you found something for us so quickly in Austin.”

  “The housing market is crazy now in Austin with all of the people forced out of the Houston area moving north. A lot of building going on—plenty of work for you architects.” Nick cocked his head. “I’m afraid it isn’t as nice nor as big as what you had before.”

  She smiled warmly at him. “Less house to clean and less yard to mow.”

  The sun set, and the clouds faded to gray. Lowry’s lip quivered. “I hate the water!” She held her mother’s face between her little hands and begged her, “I don’t want to move, Mommy.”

  “We have to, Lowry.” She opened the car door and helped Lowry into the back seat. “We leave tomorrow morning.”

  They drove off the deserted overpass. Her mother glanced back, smiling sweetly to Lowry. “Don’t worry—you’ll make lots of new friends when you start kindergarten this fall.” Margaret shifted in her seat, staring intently out the windshield. She brushed her hand across her pinched face. “We’ll have a wonderful life in Austin, you’ll see.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Lowry’s eye
s shot open at the sound of ringing. Groggy, she sat up and fumbled to answer her phone.

  Bob, her computer, said softly, “Lowry, I thought I’d check on you, we’re approaching the next satellite imaging pass, and I noticed that you weren’t in your office yet.”

  She scratched her head with a yawn. “Crap. I’m sorry—I overslept, Bob. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Okay, no problem, Lowry. We’ll be at location in thirty-two minutes.”

  “Thanks, Bob. I’ll hurry!”

  Lowry stumbled across the room and pushed Start on the coffee maker. She moved into the bathroom, flipped on the shower, and stubbed her toe as she stepped in. “Shit!”

  Feverishly, she washed her hair and body and then jumped out, drying off with a quick swipe of the towel. She jerked open her closet, grabbed the first shirt she touched, and threw it over her head. Grabbing the hair dryer with one hand, she dried her hair while pulling on her pants with the other hand. She slipped on her shoes and then glanced into the mirror to make sure she was fully dressed. Check—all body parts covered.

  She poured a cup of coffee and then rummaged in a drawer, fishing out an old granola bar for breakfast and jamming it into her pocket. With hair partially wet and coffee mug in hand, she trotted down the hall—she’d just make it before the parameters needed to be punched in and the satellite started recording.

  As Lowry reached her office, she gulped some hot coffee and burned her tongue. Gritting her teeth, she sat down in front of her terminal. It was just going to be one of those days. Setting the mug down, she concentrated on setting up for data collection as the space station approached Antarctica on its orbit around the Earth. She hit the Go button, heaved a sigh, and collapsed back into her chair. She yawned as the data began to pour into her monitor with another swath of detailed recon work over the continent.

  “Thanks for waking me up, Bob. I’m sorry I slept late.”

  “No problem, Lowry. We were able to get the data parameters in on time. I hope you slept well.”