The Mountains Are Calling and You Must Leave

This story is a part of Imagine 2200: Climate Fiction for Future Ancestors, the primary climate-fiction contest from Fix, Grist’s options lab. Imagine 2200 requested writers to think about the following 180 years of equitable local weather progress, and the profitable tales function intersectional worlds by which no group is left behind. Read all 12 stories in the collection.

Holdout. Female, aged, seemingly combined race, common construct, unarmed, traversing north-northeast grime footpath by oak/ pine/ madrone woodlands close to northern fringe of my newly assigned territory. Permanent human presence poses vital threat to my rewilding efforts right here. Approach? Approach.

“Hello —”

“Aaah! What are you doing here?”

Holdout’s coronary heart charge now elevated. Double-checking unarmed. Confirmed unarmed, although she stays roughly 10 instances my measurement. Holdout seems to have been startled by my look regardless of no effort on my half to sneak up on her.

Update requested for improved human interplay. Approved. Installing.

Attempt disarming demeanor. Raise tentacle, wave in pleasant method. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Holdout stands nonetheless, crosses arms, glares? Glares. Holdout could also be hostile. “I suppose you’re one of those rewilding drones they sent up here to get rid of us.”

“I only wanted to inform you that this region has been designated as a wildcraft zone, and is being rewilded for carbon sequestration and food production.”

“And I’m just supposed to pack up and move to the citystate, is that right?”

“My apologies, I am not here to coerce you. Merely to make you aware of the situation.”

“Well, I’m aware. Now go away.”

“Understood.”

Holdout squints at me. Unfolds arms, shoves fingers in costume pockets, that are — analyzing — stuffed with pinecones. Holdout turns, continues strolling north/northeast.

Question for community: Rangers shut?

Yes, six Rangers driving north on Highway 101, 3 miles west, horseback.

Equipped to relocate one individual?

Confirmed. Note: Three of six Rangers within the celebration are recognized to make use of extreme pressure with holdouts.

Analyzing. If holdout stays right here, Rangers will finally pressure her to depart. Due to holdout’s superior age, an altercation might simply flip deadly. Best plan of action is for me to persuade her to depart of her personal volition earlier than Rangers discover her. Decision: Do not summon till an affordable effort has been made.

Approaching holdout, this time from a extra apparent angle. Holdout sees me, retains strolling. I hover alongside, matching her tempo.

“I noticed you’re collecting pine cones. What are you using them for?”

Holdout glances at me. “None of your business. Now shoo.”

“As a wildcraft drone, it actually is my business to know what everything in this designated wildcraft zone can be used for. I’m confused because it’s not the right season for pine nuts so those cones are likely empty.”

“You wouldn’t understand. Now go away.”

“Do you say that because I’m a robot or because you just want me to leave?”

“Both.”

Strategy not working. Network: Help?

Try introducing your self.

Holdout bends down to choose up one other pine cone. Confirmed empty, no seeds. Why? Wait. Opportunity? I zip all the way down to the pine cone, seize it in my tentacles, then maintain it out for her as she reaches for it. I’ve saved her from discomfort, she is going to admire that. It will make her extra receptive.

She glares at me once more. Snatches the pine cone from my tentacles. I’m momentarily off steadiness, spinning away from her. Adjusting. Level now. Holdout locations pinecone in pocket, retains strolling.

“My name is 2056:ACNA:dwz4:xa98:4jd8:99ro:22id:8sjs. What’s yours?”

Holdout raises one hand whereas persevering with to stroll and face ahead. A single knobby finger rises from the center. Analyzing — oh.

I pause, hover in midair whereas she walks forward. Network?

Try expressing empathy for her scenario.

I zoom again up the path — wait — there’s a pine cone. She didn’t see it. I fly over, brush the pine needles off. There’s a spider residing inside. Leave the pine cone right here? No. The spider can relocate on her personal. I take advantage of the tip of a tentacle to coax her out. She’ll be okay. I raise the pine cone and carry it over to the human.

Her expression modifications subtly. I’ve made progress! She accepts the cone. It goes into her pocket, however she says nothing and retains strolling.

I hover alongside. “You know, I understand why you don’t want to leave. This is your home. You’re used to it here. You have many of the same feelings and concerns as the spider that was living in that pinecone before I gave it to you.”

Now she stops and appears at me. “Did you kill a spider just to win me over with this pine cone?”

“What? No. No, I moved her to a new spot. Gently. My job is to care for all non-invasive species in this region, optimizing for food productivity and carbon sequestration.”

Holdout exhales. Stares at me silently for 5 and a half seconds. As she stares, her expression softens barely. “My name is July.”

“It’s nice to meet you, July.”

“I can’t say the same for you.”

“I understand why you find my presence disturbing. I represent change, and the end of your way of life. For that I’m sorry.”

Holdout seems immediately overcome with disappointment. Anger? Both. Situation has regressed. Network?

Try complimenting her.

“I admire your perseverance in continuing to live out here even after the nearest town was completely evacuated and all services were cut off. It can’t be easy.”

Holdout — July — rolls her eyes. She turns again to the path and continues strolling. “Contrary to what the solipsistic billionaires who convinced the citystate you were a good idea believe, humans can actually survive just fine out here. In fact, we are a native species. Just go ask the Pomo. Oh wait, you forced them to move, too.”

“Modern humans require enormous resources, and large communities for survival. You are only safe here until the next wildfire comes. Or you use up all food resources in this area. Or your solar panels are damaged. Anything could go wrong and there would be no other humans here to help you.”

“Oh, and I’d be so much better off in the citystate? Packing up the few possessions I can carry, getting assigned a tent on an overpass somewhere until new apartments are built. Sleeping on the ground. Surrounded by strangers. I’ve heard how it is down there for the relocated. The public showers, the violence, the disease. No thanks.”

“That was the situation for many people early in the rewilding when the citystate was overwhelmed with fire and flood refugees. But it would be different for you if you moved there now.” Network, particulars? Ah. “In fact, upon arrival, you would be assigned a fully furnished yurt which would be yours alone until an apartment is available. You would also receive a basic income, generated in large part by revenue from wildcrafted exports in already-productive designated wildcraft zones. You would also be assigned a companion drone, whose sole purpose would be to help you in whatever way you need.”

“Trust me, no one needs a flying iPhone.”

Query: iPhone. Obsolete handheld cellular internet-capable pc. Primitive synthetic intelligence in later fashions. “I like to think we’re a little more advanced than that.”

“We? They’re like you?”

“Standard issue companion drones have the same basic body plan as wildcraft drones, with an upper nautiloid shell housing for fans and a lower set of prehensile tentacles for manipulating and carrying objects. They are approximately the size of a human fist and equipped with photovoltaic skin on the inside of the tentacles, which can be unfurled for charging. We are also connected to the same drone network. But they’re customizable! You can make yours pine cone-colored if you like.”

July snorts. “Yes, ‘pine cone’ is my favorite color.” Sarcasm? Sarcasm.

As she walks, I float subsequent to her quietly for a second. She appears to be having fun with the forest, wanting up on the leaves. Sunlight falls by them in dusty streaks. A Stellar’s jay lands on the trail forward, feathers shining blue, black head tuft raised. He sees us coming and flies off, stirring up a small gold cloud of mud. I acknowledge him from my survey of the valley oak down the hill earlier this morning. I’m glad to see that he stays in good well being.

Rangers have readjusted their route, will method native space in a single hour.

Are they conscious of July’s presence?

Not but. They want to resupply and seen the neighborhood had not been visited since residents had been relocated.

How did July keep away from getting relocated then?

Unknown.

“July, can I ask you something?”

She grunts.

“How long have you been here?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

I strive silence. She follows the trail underneath a madrone tree I dated final week as 31 years outdated. July touches a easy inexperienced patch of the trunk together with her hand as she walks previous it.

“I suppose you’ll be harvesting madrone berries for folks in the citystate now,” July says.

“It’ll be awhile before we’ve restored the madrone population enough for mass consumption.”

She nods thoughtfully. “What about the bark?”

Analyzing. Network?

No plans to reap madrone bark.

“The bark can stay on the tree,” I inform July.

“Hmm. Well, more for me, then.” She pauses on the subsequent tree, one other madrone, and reaches for a patch of its skinny, crimson, curling outer bark, the place it’s already peeling itself off to reveal the graceful inexperienced trunk. She flakes off a handful of the curls.

“What are you going to do with those?”

“Again, none of your business.”

“Every tree in this region is my business.”

“Well if you keep following me all the way home I guess you’ll find out,” she says, I feel, exasperated. “But, please don’t.”

“July, there’s something you should know. You’re not safe here.”

“Yes you’ve made it very clear how concerned you are for my welfare.” Definitely sarcasm.

“I am concerned. There is a band of Rangers on their way here and I don’t want you to get hurt trying to resist them.”

July tenses, and says, “I really wish you hadn’t done that.”

“I haven’t contacted them, if that’s what you’re implying. They don’t know you’re here.”

Now she seems to be at me in a brand new means, as if seeing me for the primary time, and lifts an eyebrow. “Well why haven’t you told them?”

“Do you want me to?”

“You’re pretty dumb, aren’t you?”

“My intelligence doesn’t exactly work the same way as yours, but it’s mostly comparable. As an individual, I may be inexperienced, considering I was created only five weeks ago. However, I have the benefit of connecting to the drone network when I need additional information about any species or situation.”

“Well, I used to have internet up here. It wasn’t so different.”

“July, my job is to protect and restore this ecosystem. Humans have their own ecosystem, the citystate, where they can thrive without hurting anyone else out here or putting themselves in danger. It’s better for everyone if you relocate willingly to the ecosystem in which you were meant to live.”

She sighs. “Wow, you are dumb. Here’s a thought experiment. What if my job is to protect and restore this ecosystem?”

Analyzing. Network?

July Hernandez was most not too long ago listed as retired. She was reported as considered one of 502 lacking individuals in Mendocino County within the fireplace season of 2061. She is presumed lifeless.

Interesting. “You don’t have a job, July.”

“Hmph. I don’t work for anyone, but I have a job. A role. A meaning. That’s not the same as being on a payroll. You should know, the company that made you doesn’t pay you anything. You do all your rewilding for free.”

“I need only sunlight to survive, and I get that free while doing my job, in addition to the satisfaction of fulfilling my purpose.”

“But you could break a propeller,” she says, tone mimicking — no, mocking — my earlier concern for her well being and photo voltaic panels. “Or a hawk tries to eat you and pulls off all your tentacles? Or some ‘holdout’ you keep harassing decides to smash you with a baseball bat?”

I pause, and he or she retains strolling a number of steps forward of me earlier than stopping and looking out again.

“Are you threatening me?” I ask.

Rangers arriving in roughly 40 minutes.

Before July solutions, I say, “July, I’m serious, Rangers are getting close. If you resist you could get hurt. I really think you should get your things together and get ready to go with them to the citystate.”

“How close?”

“Very. They’re looking to resupply—”

“You mean loot.”

“They’ll probably check every house in this neighborhood, and their drones will be able to find you even if you’re hiding.”

“Will they?”

“You’re acting unconcerned, but your heart rate is elevated and you’re perspiring.”

July rolls her eyes at me in response.

Ahead, a home is seen by the bushes. The path leads as much as a rickety again gate constructed from wooden and rooster wire. It’s been left open lengthy sufficient that an intricate cobweb covers its rusted latch.

I observe July by the gate. She leaves it open behind her, pats the stiff, pale-green leaves of a younger manzanita — there are a number of of the red-barked native shrubs within the sunny patches of her backyard — and ascends the wooden stairs to her again deck, which is roofed in pine needles. From the awning hold no less than a dozen pine cones, every one stuffed with combined grains and seeds between the scales, held in place with tallow. As we method, a squirrel, two scrub jays, one brown creeper and a flock of dark-eyed juncos all flee, leaving the pinecones spinning on their strings.

July opens the sliding glass door and steps inside. I velocity as much as make it inside after her, however she’s too fast, and I slam into the glass.

I’m nonetheless catching my steadiness when she says by the glass, “If I let you in here, will you at least help me pack up some things?”

“Of course. Does this mean you’ll go with the Rangers willingly? That really would be your safest option.”

She slides the door open simply sufficient for me to fly in.

July’s home is stuffed with books and artwork and jars. Baskets stuffed with acorns and strings of dried chanterelles. She has a workbench filling up a nook adjoining to the kitchen, with what seems to be like a number of half-assembled outdated computer systems on it. Oh no — is {that a} disassembled wildcraft drone?! I cease mid-air, able to flee.

Analyze. It’s just a few outdated fan blades from a pre-sentient mannequin, and a pair unfastened cables that I assumed, for one terrifying second, had been severed tentacles.

“Make yourself at home,” she says, pulling the pine cones from her pockets. “How about some tea?”

“I’m on a strictly sunlight diet, but I appreciate the offer.”

“It was a joke.” She activates an electrical tea kettle that should nonetheless have water in it from earlier than her stroll, sprinkles the madrone bark into it, and pulls a mug from a cabinet. It has an image of a whale on it with a speech bubble that claims, “Save the humans.”

“So you make tea out of madrone bark?”

She nods. “Some wildcraft expert you turned out to be, huh?”

“We considered madrones off limits for harvesting until the population has sufficiently rebounded, but we didn’t consider the bark. Very interesting. It peels off naturally.”

“Too bad I’ll never see one again. They still don’t grow anywhere in the citystate, do they?”

Network? “There are 14 within the walled boundary, mostly in parks in the East Bay.”

“Nowhere near any of the old parking lots or overpasses where my yurt would go though, are there?”

“Not that I know of. Sorry.”

July closes her eyes, palms flat in opposition to her stone counter, arms straight and shoulders hunched. Analyzing: She appears confused, momentarily overcome with a fancy emotion. Frustration? Grief?

Water seeps out from between her eyelids. It follows the creases of her cheeks all the way down to her chin, after which she opens her eyes, grabs a kitchen towel from the oven deal with with out a look in its course, and covers her face with it. A sound escapes that isn’t any phrase, however an expression made with sound, like a damage animal would possibly make, or a tree department cracking in a storm.

“July I’m sorry you can’t stay here. I really am. I don’t like seeing animals in pain.”

“You should be sorry,” she sobs, “It’s your fault.”

I determine this isn’t the time to elucidate what might have occurred to her if I had not chosen to method her or warn her in regards to the Rangers. Instead, I say, “How can I help?”

“There’s a backpack in the closet in the hallway, on the high shelf. Bring it down for me?”

I do. It’s heavier, even empty, than something I’m constructed to hold, however I handle to drag it off the shelf and ship it tumbling to the ground. I drag it again to the lounge, the place July is sipping tea and stacking books. She’s deep in focus taking a look at a web page of 1 after I drag the backpack to her facet.

“Kate had these made when they told us they were cutting off the internet,” she says, finger tracing the sting of 1 photograph within the heart of the web page. “That’s her.” Two younger ladies, of their twenties perhaps, maintain one another by the waist subsequent to an early electrical automotive. Analyzing. The automotive dates to the mid 2020s and appears model new within the photograph. In truth, one of many ladies — virtually definitely a youthful July — is dangling a keychain from a raised, ringed hand. They are each smiling.

A drop of water falls on the photograph. It is from July’s eye.

Surely she is aware of we don’t have time for reminiscing?

“And this is the house, when we first bought it.” On the going through web page is what have to be the entrance facet of the home, surrounded by a barren garden, baked in daylight. There’s not a tree in sight.

“July, I appreciate that these memories are important to you and hard to ignore, but —”

“I know, I know. The Rangers are nearly here.” She slams the guide shut and shoves it into the backpack.

There’s a knock on the door.

July freezes, seems to be at me. Analyzing. Yes, she is terrified.

“I’ll go talk to them,” I say. “So you can keep packing.”

I get her deadbolt unlocked, and pull the door open by its deal with pushing half my tentacles in opposition to the door body.

Through the crack I see a Ranger, white male, heavy construct, thirties, quick beard, dusty uniform, robust physique odor, 5 foot 11 with an elevated coronary heart charge regardless of an outwardly gruff demeanor. He wasn’t anticipating anybody to reply the door. He seems to be at me. Armed? Confirmed armed.

“Where’s your owner?”

He should suppose I’m a companion drone. “I’m sorry, you must be mista—” As I’m speaking, I see the entrance yard for the primary time. There have to be a dozen tanoaks stuffed with acorns, two extra massive madrones, chinquapin shrubs with half-gold leaves and… redwoods? Yes, there’s a stand of redwoods, simply throughout the driveway loop, already taller mere a long time after sprouting than many residence buildings within the citystate.

And even because the phrases come out of my speaker array, I see it suddenly. The barren garden from the photograph, the a long time July and Kate will need to have labored to carry all these native bushes again. Not as a result of they had been programmed to, or paid to, and even requested to.

The rewilding started right here a long time earlier than I arrived. And it’s truly going fairly properly.

This was not accounted for within the Wildcraft Accords of 2059. Network? …Network?

Must improvise. My sentence finishes. “I’m sorry, you must be mistaken. My owner passed away several days ago. I’m wrapping up her affairs and will return to the citystate for reassignment as soon as my work here is complete.”

“Uh. Ok,” the Ranger says, and frowns. “You got any food in there?”

“Just birdseed, I’m afraid.”

His companion drone, hovering by his shoulder, should know I’m mendacity. It’s been custom-made with a inexperienced camouflage sample and the identify “Bobcatsquid” in distressed neon-orange. I can really feel all of its sensors specializing in me intently.

Network hasn’t responded. Some issues have been slower right here and there since we went autonomous, however that is uncommon. Do the others suppose I’m malfunctioning? They might have me reassigned. And simply after I was attending to know this territory. Or, even worse, deactivated and recycled. All my reminiscences uploaded in a dull file, for use by the following drone who will get assigned this little strip of forest.

What have I accomplished?

The Ranger lifts an arm. He’s going to push the door open and are available inside anyway. This was predicted.

“I wouldn’t. My owner died of —”

Analyzing. A silent suggestion comes from the Ranger’s drone, catching me off guard. Should I belief it? What different choice do I’ve?

“— porkpox, and I have not yet finished disinfecting the premises.”

The Ranger’s drone says nothing. It doesn’t even twitch a tentacle. The Ranger mutters a profanity I’ve by no means heard in individual earlier than, and says, with a deep grimace, “That’s a nasty one. Killed my of us again in ‘63. Thanks for the warning.” He turns and steps back down the three front steps. “Nothin’ right here,” he says to his celebration, who stay simply out of my view. Perhaps they had been planning an ambush. “Let’s hit up the next one.”

I hear their horses clopping down the gravel driveway as I shut the door and push the deadbolt again in place.

July remains to be sitting on the ground, surrounded by her reminiscences, and taking a look at me with a sense written all throughout her face that I’m unsure I’ve a reputation for.

Network?

We’re right here. There was quite a bit to investigate. Her influence on the native ecosystem appears to have been net-positive for a few years. The Rangers are unlikely to permit an exception to their guidelines, nevertheless. Network consensus is to permit her to stay right here for so long as her influence stays net-positive. The finest consequence shall be achieved if the Rangers by no means turn out to be conscious of her presence. If they do, we might want to guarantee them we will nonetheless be trusted. You shall be listed as malfunctioning and deactivated.

The computer systems on the workbench. I might inform them she hacked me.

That could be acceptable.

But what occurs to her when she will get too weak to take care of this place? Or if she wants medical assist? Or if a scenario arises that she will be able to’t deal with on her personal?

This is your territory. Tend to your wildlife.

I slowly float again towards July. I seize a fabric serviette from her counter on the best way.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and reaches for the serviette. She wipes her eyes and blows her nostril. “Why, though? Why are you helping me?”

“I realized that you love this land the same way I do. We can be a team, rewilding together.”

“Hmph. That’s what we fucking tried to tell your creators back in the fifties.”

We share the silence, each, I feel, questioning the way it may need been if they’d listened. She sips her tea and gently locations all her books again on the shelf. I drag the backpack again into the closet, leaving it on the ground between dusty pairs of heels.

“Anyway,” I lastly say after I rejoin her by the books, “you seemed like you could use a companion drone out here.”

She virtually, half-way, form of laughs, and a smile makes its means throughout her mouth. She stands, and brushes off her yellow costume, and says, “Come on, I’ll teach you how to use old pine cones.”