The Garden Club by James Gerard (nonfiction book recommendations .txt) 📖

Hal was barely receptive to the muffled noises all about.  With torso slumped forward and fingers hanging onto the bottom of the steering wheel, the eyelids begged to cede to the impulses that demanded sleep.

The consciousness too yielded its control and was shut off from the inevitable tragedy that was about to occur.  But just as the car began to veer across the median and straight towards the oncoming traffic, a rapid succession of awkward bumps gently nudged awareness back to a semi-conscious state.  Eyes opened just long enough to witness the course correction, but the reality of the danger was still muddled from the fatigue crying out for peaceful slumber.

Unexpectedly, Hal found himself standing before a tranquil lake.  The body of water was nestled at the base of an unbroken ring of mighty mountains that kept the scene shielded from the dangers of the outside world.  The mountainsides were covered with towering trees.  The collective scent of the trees wafted about the air and filled the lungs with a piney aroma that transported the imagination back to a time gone by.

Eyes became mesmerized by the meadow of luscious grass and vibrant wild flowers that surrounded the lake. They added their own sweet aromas to the springtime air.  Realizing he was standing in the midst of a paradise that was believed to have fallen to the needs of the world, Hal felt all the stress and burdens lifted by the serene setting.

A hypnotic wave of gentle ripples that were slight distortions created by the movement of a gaggle of geese wading through the crystal clear water moved the images of the mountains framed by the glossy surface of the lake.  An overpowering sense made the lake alive.   It was as if a mountain nymph was beckoning all the geese to come, rest, and to take refuge before continuing the flight to the north. 

Ears detected the faint sounds of honking as the water’s edge called out to come closer.  The honking grew louder.  It sounded as if thousands upon thousands of the wild birds came gliding down on the wind and towards the surface.   The tranquility of the scene was broken by the intensity.   The voluminous clatter was too much to take.

“Oh no!”  A foot slammed the brakes.  The car skidded to a stop just inches away from the back of a truck that had come to a stop in the congested traffic.  “Whew,” Hal sighed.  "That was close."

Reality slammed back into his consciousness.   A window was lowered allowing air to hit the face, awaken the senses, and revive the mind beset with an unrelenting need for sleep.

Droplets of dirty dew dropped on a bare arm as it stretched out into the morning air and irritated the skin.  The air processors lining the highway towered high in the sky.  They hummed a wheezing hum as they inhaled the tainted air and sent it flowing towards the Miramar Atmosphere Plant.  After the scrubbed air was refreshed, the plant’s towering stacks constantly exhaled the finished product back into the sky.

Wondering what had caused the morning’s stand still of traffic, Hal turned on the news.  A monotonous voice crackled over the radio advising drivers that a major accident had clogged traffic for miles along both sides leading to the 78/15 interchange.  To make matters worse, it was reported that the dragged out process of the installation of a pumping station for the water reclamation line running along the 15 corridor had just added more frustration to the morning commute.

Surrounded by others who were also trapped in the mess, the car crept slowly up the highway.  The wasted time led to thoughts about the day ahead.  Just having to think about the trouble his friend had caused also added onto the already crushing misery that had fell upon him the night before.

Hal considered that it would be just a waste of time to continue on now, but logic was starting to wax strong.  The pangs that had fed the desire to reverse directions and head back home were waning.   The task at hand was the last task left to finish and one that would decide the fate of the park.  But beyond that, he thought, if it weren’t for the reports, I would’ve been out of a job long ago.

Finally, Cloverdale Drive came into sight and also the opportunity to escape the madness of the morning rush hour.  But one remnant of it still remained.  Hal heard it in the tail end of a commercial that enthusiastically announced: At SciTech, chemistry is not just a science, but a way to improve the quality of your life too.

For years Hal cringed at such haughty claims even though he could understand to some extent the rationale behind such measures.  He could never buy into the explanation that the earth’s natural cleansing cycle had been so badly damaged by the war ending all wars that such scientific and chemical methods had to be put into effect.

To further the doubts, the idea that every square inch of the synthetic landscape had to be utilized to maximize the needs of the world’s population.  He could never buy into the effort of the corporate giants having to step in where governments failed.   The belief was that they were the ones that had the means and abilituy that would efficiently trap the toxic waste spewing into the atmosphere.  Then, by means of their corporate science and technology, had to rush in to rescue the Earth from the ecological catastrophe.  Their means of renewing the air, howerver, were mainly by cleverly manufactured filters laced with chemicals that had been created in private labs and were highly toxic to the environment.  The filters, they claimied, were engineered and manipulated to remove the carbon particulates and green house gasses emitted by the very machines they profited from while containing their dangerous chemicals through mechanical means.

Not only was the world’s population blinded to the reality of it all, they simply did not care as well.   All anyone cared about besides ridding the waste to avert any ill health affects the dirty air, water, or food would cause, were abundant supplies of those commodities.  The cost added to the purchases of their hearts’ desires did not matter.

Usually oblivious to the unnatural surrounding, Hal scanned the landscape and saw one fact that was never mentioned by the corporate media.   The fact was apparent in how wild birds had been intentionally left out in the world.   The birds that ventured to close to the processors' gaping mouths were also sucked in by the sucking force.

Hal took a moment to scan the waste of life.  The rotting carcasses littered the back sides of the collectors and mingled in with those that were merely thrashed yet still breathing.  They were left to flutter on the ground until cleanup crews came swarming in and shoveled them up like so many pieces of trash.  The dead and dying birds, however, were not destiined as an alternative fuel source for incinerators at power producing plants.  Their fate had been decided by the war to end all wars.

It was a war that began over dwindling natural resources.  The ferocious fighting between nations left dead hundreds of millions.  In its ugly aftermath, the war was a crying call to the citizens of the world that toppled  governments and deferred to corporate intelligence to finally meet all basic needs and then some.   Therefore, under the direction of the corporate rule, the dead and dying birds were recycled as materials for manufacturers and as food additives to bulk up the food supply. 

Driving further up the deserted stretch of road, a great mass of green broke up the monotony of the brown ground and gray sky.  The juxtaposition was once meant as a reminder to everyone of what had existed from the caring hearts of bureaucrats, but now was a reminder of how governments tried to deny all things they required by preserving what they had thought was in need of preserving.

The green lushness in view was safely contained within a fiber and glass structure covering nearly three square miles.  The canopy was supported by a structure connected together with six sided hexagons and topped by sections rising to a height of 150 feet.  To Hal, the structure represented the only true life around.

For twenty two years he had driven to the site.  Years removed from college, a degree in Environmental Biology and fervent to tend to its needs, Hal saw the park as an oasis within a corporate desert.  But for the past few years a hands-off policy at the park had been implemented by the Governor and there was nothing more to do than to act as an administrator.  It took him out of the field to put together reports for the Governor each month.   The reports were of the fiscal health of the last tract of rain forest left on the planet.

The phone rang.

Without looking at the number of the receiving call, Hal immediately wondered what Ron had done now.  Tired of listening to the same old annoying voice on the other end whining about some insignificant event, he let the ring continue its electronic rant hoping the sycophant would just hang up, but it would not cease.

“Yeah.”

The familiar voice, cold and succinct, blared over the speaker.  “The Governor wants to see you.”

“What’s…” a click over the speaker interrupted the thought, “…the problem?”

Hal slammed on the brakes.  The tires screeched.  The car skidded to a stop.  A strong inhale sent air deeply into the lungs in an effort to calm a rapidly beating heart and to smother the infuriating frustration that consumed the mind, but it was no use.  Anger smoldered inside.

The message was received and understood.  Hal had long realized that whenever the Governor asked for a face to face meeting it meant that Ron had done something especially irking.  Not that he minded defending his friend, he did not.  It was facing the Governor’s harsh lectures that he hated the most.

Hal was only a few minutes away from the park and decided at that moment to go and pick up April’s revenue report to take along to Governor Hartson.  Although the risk of further condemnation for not responding promptly to the order was imminent, at least further torment would be avoided by eliminating the appointed time set aside for such briefings.

But the report really did not matter to the Governor, he reasoned, for the Governor only appreciated the fact that it was one of only a few official functions that was under his control.  It was an authoritative function that had been afforded him by the corporate leaders.  But Hal knew the report would not be the point of contention.

“Did you do the same stupid thing Ron?”

While pondering that question, Hal felt the answer deep down in his heart.  The answer, howerver, did  not include assigning any blame or agree in any part to allegations of shocking acts committed by his friend.  He knew that Ron was just trying to stir up some excitement by creating a sense of fun and adventure.  And the truth be known, it was not the Governor who viewed such acts as vile indiscretions, but through the view of those with intentions to further their gains.

The car sped through the visitor’s parking lot and slid onto the road curving to the south side of the park.  It came to a screeching halt in a marked space by the maintenance building.  Impulses demanded to grab the door with both hands, anchor feet firmly to the asphalt, and slam it shut so hard as to cause the car to fall apart and crash to the ground, but a sense of restraint prevailed. 

Hal collapsed onto the hood with hands clenched and listened to the whining and humming of the machine parts spinning within the electrical power plant.  The sounds were of the machines filtering and pumping water back up to the waterfall, and from there up to a network of pipes and sprinklers attached to the support grids.

Hal turned towards the whining.  The noise came from behind the door to the employee entrance.

“Damn it,” he whispered in response