Opportunity Lost

The year is 2062. California is gone, detached and lost at sea after the Great earthquake of ’32. The polar ice caps melted at an accelerated rate as the ozone layer protecting us from the sun continued to thin. The melting caps resulted in a significant rise in sea levels. The added pressure on our earth’s crust caused a massive shift of tectonic plates and set off a chain reaction of catastrophic events.

The Great earthquake was actually a series of earthquakes, and it was only the beginning. Hurricanes ravaged the southeast coasts of the United States. Canada became an ice box, along with DC and every state above it. The Dakotas, Minnesota, Illinois, Wisconsin, they may as well be the North Pole now. A massive tsunami wiped out most of the population on the eastern states. My great grandmother fled North Carolina, as did everyone from both the eastern and western coasts. People flooded the central states in search of refuge, but the central states were no more safe than any other place. Tornados ravaged Tennessee, West Virginia, and Arkansas, while sandstorms plagued Texas, New Mexico, and Oklahoma. The earthquake was followed by a long drought that dried up crops in the western half of the US. We weren’t the only ones affected.

Nuclear bombs in North Korea, China, and Japan were set off by the Great earthquake, killing millions and poisoning the water supply of billions in Asia. Japan is now submerged in the Pacific. Taiwan, Laos, the Philippines and other islands are only found in old maps. Russia and half of Europe is frozen. The other half of Europe is underwater. The earthquake in Africa was so violent it broke the continent into three separate land masses. England and Ireland were lost at sea. Australia, New Zealand, and New Guinea were strangely unaffected.

The US government collapsed, and what’s left are twelve territories. We live in what is called New Texas now, a small territory a stone’s throw away from the easternmost end of the T Wall. I travel the length of the T Wall from one end of the territory to the other end every day. It’s about a mile, each way. The T Wall was built in my great grandmother’s time to keep migrants from entering the country. It’s 60 feet high, twenty feet deep, and five feet thick. A massive undertaking, the wall spanned from Arizona to Texas. The Governor of California at that time rejected the Federal government’s authority to build the wall. He was later assassinated, but litigation over the wall had already begun, halting progress for decades. When they finally began construction there, the Great earthquake destroyed any progress made.

When the dust settled the earth’s surface was drastically changed. It used to take earth about 24 hours to rotate around its axis. Now it takes closer to 16.

This all happened before I was born, and life in New Texas is all I know. We go to school from age 3 to 7 to learn the basics: How to survive a sandstorm, what to do if a snake bites you, how to remove a bullet if you get too close to the border. Oh, did I tell you? They don’t like it when you cross over into other territories. They’ve got armed guards at the borders, and only authorized traders are allowed to pass. Food is scarce, and there are rumors that a famine is wiping out the northern territories. We get our information about other territories from the traders, so I can’t vouch for how reliable this information is.

A few more places I haven't mentioned. On the other side of the T Wall is Mexico. Further down is South America. They were hit pretty badly by the Great earthquake. Much of the Caribbean is gone, save the Citadel of Haiti. There was severe coastal flooding in South America. Argentina, Peru and Chile were completely submerged, but the rest of the continent quickly recovered. Their leaders joined forces and are now the United States of South America, or USSA. They’re the biggest superpower on the planet now, and they grow most of the world’s food. Mexico is the second biggest, with the largest naval fleet. Due to the ravaged coasts, many of the remaining countries have no way of exporting food by boat, and airports are ghost towns, so they rely on Mexico for, well, everything.

“I’ve always wanted to see Mexico.”

I looked up from my journal. My great grandmother sat in her rocking chair, eyes staring at nothing, face painted with deep, dark lines that curved with the bones of her face. She sighed a deep sigh and I stared at her a moment before returning to my writing.

I’m writing all this down now, so I won’t forget the reason why I’m doing this. Why it has to be me.

“Oh, no!”

My great grandmother began to whimper and cry and I closed my journal. I made my way over to her, squeezed her hand, and spoke in a soft, reassuring tone.

“It’s alright, great grandma. I’m here.”

“No, no, no!” she cried again. Her grief-filled cries were hard to watch. She had these episodes more often now. I tried to comfort her by cooing and speaking softly. Her sobs quieted, but her grief never left her eyes.

“You were so little, Samaya! I just wanted to keep you safe!” My great grandmother looked up at me, pleading for understanding.

“I’m not Samaya, great grandma. I’m Soira.” She looked at me, confused.

“Where is Samaya?” she asked. “Did I lose you again, my child?”

“No, great grandma. She is gone to the store. She will be back soon.” The lie felt hollow, but my mother told me it was the only way to calm her down. She was right. My great grandmother visibly relaxed. Samaya was my great grandmother’s youngest daughter. She was lost during the tsunami that struck the eastern states. She’d been around my age, I think. My great grandmother kept a picture of her in her dress pocket. We looked almost identical.

“Samaya should be careful,” my grandmother spoke softly. “The air is strange outside. Colder than usual.” I nodded and turned to leave, but my grandmother held my hand fast.

“I knew something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones. But there was so much wrong in the world, and I was so tired. I didn’t think I could do anything about it, anyway.” She was back to herself, now. Her episodes came and went, and conversations often floated between the past and present.

“About what?” I asked.

“The wall. The ice. The government. They all were so big, and I was so small. What could one person do? And I had Samaya and Janessa. They were all the world I could handle.”

“It’s okay, great grandma.”

“No, no, no! You live in a three mile cage, Soira! You’ve never seen a mountain, or tasted ice cream. You wear a mask to go outside. This isn't right! I should have done… I should have done…” she searched for words. I waited as she repeated herself again and again.

“More?” I whispered the word, but she heard me. Her eyes glistened with tears and she nodded.

“Yes. I should have done more, but now it’s too late.” She shook her head in grief.

“What more could you do?” I tried to comfort her without judgment, but to be honest, I often wondered. Was the world fated for this? Were these things always meant to happen? Or was it the result of people’s actions, or inaction? Of ignored opportunities to do the hard thing? To do the right thing?

“Promise me, Soira,” my grandmother looked at me with an intensity I felt to my core. “Promise me, if you see wrong in the world, you will fight it. If you can do good, you’ll do it! Promise me!”

My great grandmother knew nothing of the hole I’d found in the T Wall, or the letters from a girl from Mexico named Consuela. She had sent the same letter every day with the same words, hoping someone would find it and respond. They were tied to the back of a tiny electronic beetle. The beetle was programmed to crawl the five feet through the hole, eject the letter, and wait 14 hours. Afterwards it would retreat back to the other side of the wall.

I’d found the letter on the ground one day during my walk.

Hello from Mexico.

I thought it was a joke and tossed the paper away, but kept finding the letter in the same spot every day for a week. I eventually found the hole and the beetle. It took me several days of observation to catch it in the act, and several more to figure out how to send a reply.

Over time, I learned that Consuela’s father was the President of Mexico. I did not believe her at first, and I had a lot of questions, but the beetle could only hold a tiny paper, and the messages had to be short. She said her father tried to send drones, but they were shot down. They were bringing down the T-Wall, and soon. The demolition would be by missile and if we didn’t evacuate, New Texas and all its inhabitants would be destroyed. She sent me twelve letters. The final came with a warning.

You have ten days. Good luck.

That was two days ago.

I looked at my great grandmother. She was still staring at me, eyes full of fire and regret. I nodded my head. This would not be another opportunity lost.

“I promise.”