Vote for Gaia

“I’m glad you came,” Ernyl said. She was toying with the display of a neighboring valley that her new projector was casting onto the top of her overlarge desk.

“Ready to admit you're wrong?”

“Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“We haven’t had enough time to analyze the impact that automating the planting and harvesting processes will have.”

“That’s interesting, Tumund. Every single expert on the panel except for you seems to think we’ve had plenty of time. Not only that, all of their projections are positive. Give me a single negative impact. I’d ask for more, but I don’t think you have the one.”

“Okay. Let’s start with long-term destruction of soil organic matter.”

“Osten and Dorma are certain they can rebalance the soil with a new compound they’re working on. We’ve been over this.”

“Will their compound work? Will it be finished in time?”

“Well, I suppose that depends. Let’s say we improve our crop yields through automation and the new chemical techniques. That means more people, and less of them that need to work in those accursed fields. That means more lab techs. More agronomy apprentices, too. You would think you’d be thrilled about getting others out of the fields and into the lab.”

“And I’ll guess they have a compound to reverse soil acidification? Next you’ll tell me that Motte has invented a machine to undo soil compaction or a lighter mechanical planter and harvester to prevent it in the first place. There are a dozen negatives I can think of right off the top of my head and that means there are probably thirty or forty more that haven’t even crossed my mind. Why don’t we give it a year? If all these miracle compounds and solutions and techniques to counteract the issues I’m warning about are about to materialize then we’ll have them in a year and we can start the process in the safest way possible from the outset instead of trying to react to all of these issues as they pop up, if they’re kind enough not to bite us all in the ass at once. I'm not even saying we should do it at all. Even if you have solutions for the potential problems, there are ethical implications to changing the way of life of an entire people.”

“We're the people.”

“We're two of them, and whether one of us is elected by some other number of them or not I'm going to go out on a limb and say the charter doesn't give you the right to introduce radical changes to the society in order to satisfy your own ambitions.”

“And if my ambitions are for the prosperity and well-being of the entirety of Vanancia?”

“Of course it's the whole world you're after, you haven't changed a bit.”

“I've been right the whole time.”

“Why are more people better?” Tumund asked after several seconds of silence passed.

“Are you insane? Do I really have to explain this to you?”

“I think you do. Five centuries since we relaxed the Gaia protocols, and you’re ready to risk the most beautiful oasis in the galaxy just to see your name in the record books. Do you honestly believe things stay pristine if we balloon the population into the millions overnight? Or is an overcrowded dump acceptable, so long as you have more people to rule over?”

“Do you hear yourself? Where does all of this doom and gloom come from? You've been this way since we were kids.”

“Oh, come on, I was much more optimistic about soil conditions and future population tables when we were kids,” Tumund laughed, and Ernyl joined in despite herself. “I'm just saying, we have beautiful, happy lives here. The Traveler warned us what mankind did to the world outside this place. Father warned us, as well.”

“You really believe all that old folklore?”

“It's not folklore, Ernyl. We have continuous logs. It hasn't even been a thousand years since the founding, and you're already treating our own survival records like children's bedtime stories.”

“I know, but … you don't think some of that, especially the Father stuff and the Traveler, was kinda just made up? You know, the kind of thing you tell children. It's nice and all but I don't happen to think the sayings of Father or the Three Dialogues are anything that really happened. They're just myths. Useful for building communities around but not ultimately real.”

Tumund felt foolish for ever letting himself think Ernyl would believe in the stories from their founding. They were far too confining for an ambition like hers.

“You didn't invite me here to concede before the meeting, tonight. I think we both know there's nothing in the universe that could make you back down. Why exactly did you ask me to come?”

“To let you know that your tutelage of Ryca is done. It's time to recognize her mastery and fill the apprenticeship again.”

Tumund’s jaw went slack and his fists clenched. He started to rise then resumed his seat, feeling a bit lightheaded.

“You had no right-”

“It's been six years, almost seven. At least two past the norm.”

“You're going to-”

“Going to? I already did. The council approved my decision and informed Ryca …” Ernyl looked at the clock on the wall. “Well, I suppose someone is giving her the good news right about now. I'm sure you two have a lot to talk about before tonight. If you had any sense you'd know that I'm going to get my way tonight at the town hall the same way I'm getting my way on this. Do we really need to fight it out in front of half the town?”

#

Tumund waited just off-stage in silence with his friend and lab assistant Mogg next to him.

“She’s really eviscerating you out there,” Mogg started, at a whisper. “I didn’t think she’d seat the entire rest of the panel on stage during her remarks to back her up.”

“It's easy to eviscerate someone when they can't interject. It's fine, Mogg. We get the final word tonight.”

“Then the vote.”

That was the hard thing. Things like right and wrong meant nothing in the face of a vote. This would be his last chance to sway enough people. How many was enough? Would he be able to overcome an entire panel of experts sitting behind their governor. Ernyl had won that vote twice. Would this be any different?

The advisory panel rising to a lukewarm round of applause woke Tumund from his pondering. It was time. He offered Ernyl and the others the perfunctory congratulations required by etiquette and made his way to the podium.

Tumund had no notes with him. He never liked using the things. Waste of paper for anyone with half a mind. He knew what he knew and how to communicate it. Would it be good enough tonight, when it really mattered? Only one way to know.

“I thank the esteemed professionals on the advisory panel as well as Governor Sowers for their presentation. It was truly inspiring for me to hear about their progress toward solutions for problems that they refused to admit existed only six months ago.” He’d hoped for at least a sympathy chuckle but was met with a confused murmur instead. He was silent for several seconds. He’d wanted to poke at their supposed cures and solutions, but something told him the crowd had no more desire to hear scientists trade technical barbs. All that bandwidth had been consumed during Ernyl’s presentation. He took a deep breath. Time to cut straight to the point. “Egven! Is Egven here?” Tumund asked, surveying the crowd.

Egven lifted a bronzed arm, thick with muscle and waved. That managed a bit of a chuckle from the crowd.

“Would you mind coming up to the podium?”

“Me?” Egven asked, obviously stunned at the proposition.

“Is there another Egven who farms potatoes in the hall this evening?” That sent a small ripple of laughter through the audience as well. Tumund’s confidence was rising. “Come on up, Eg. I promise I’m not going to make you listen to a bunch of technobabble.”

Egven rose to his feet and made his way to the podium to tower over the agronomist, the crowd cheering him on as he went. Once next to the podium, he nodded politely to Tumund and then to the crowd.

“I think the stage suits you, Eg,” Tumund said, another bit of laughter from the crowd as Egven shook his head.

“I prefer the fields, I think.”

“Ah, that may be, but soon you won’t be needed there. I suspect there are a good many things you’d rather do than be out in the sun all day, though.”

“Can't think of any, myself.”

The crowd laughed again. Egven was a pillar of the community. A reliable worker in the fields who always did his fair share then that of a dozen others. The kind of man that people in their small town relied on.

“You might want to get on that. Once the first mechanical planters hit the fields there won't be much for a broad set of shoulders out in the wheat.”

Egven’s silence spread outward through the room until only a stray cough and the fussing of a newborn could be heard. No one in the crowd said a word. Half of them seemed to have stilled their breathing. Eg stood frozen like a stone slab. Even if many of the people present had understood that their children might not follow in their footsteps—regardless of how they might feel about it—it seemed that few if any had thought they might have to change their own professions in the near future. Ernyl hadn't seen this coming. She couldn't possibly imagine not wanting to do back-breaking labor all day in the worst weather paradise had to offer.

Tumund turned his head just enough to see the fury roiling just beneath the surface of the placid mask Ernyl had assumed. He would’ve been exultant if he was sure the gambit would work. Stunned momentary silence didn’t mean victory. It was a double-edged sword as far as arguments went. There were plenty of men and women who worked the fields who would be glad to never see them again, but what else could he do in the face of the onslaught from the Governor and her so-called experts? He'd made the issue human. He'd shaken awake a few sleepers. Now he felt talking more could only hurt his case. He waited.

Ernyl marched back out to the podium, attempting to cut Tumund to ribbons with her glare. He yielded the podium.

“I know this format usually ends with the speaker in the negative, but, in this instance, I feel the need to clarify some issues. First, no one is asking you to retire Egven,” she gave him a reassuring pat on the arm. “Quite the contrary. I imagine you'll be busy helping maintain and repair our first pair of automated harvesters and planters.” She beamed at Tumund and then out at the audience that was starting to stir, starting to shake itself out of stunned silence.

Tumund stopped listening as he left the stage, giving the podium up to Ernyl and a still-apprehensive Egven. Mogg was silent too, though he had a grin on his face as he nodded to Tumund. The panel of experts, waiting in the wings nearby, was half-consumed with bitter muttering about dirty political tricks and half with what they might possibly eat for dinner.

Next came the vote. Tumund had already cast his ballot when he got to the hall that night and couldn't stand waiting around to find out the results. Mogg found him in his study a couple hours later to let him know that the town had voted to ‘enhance’ their agricultural processes. 83-77. Tumund just laughed.

#

“You’re just gonna leave me here with her? You’re gonna let her win and just run away?” Ryca asked in disbelief as she helped Tumund pack up the contents of his small lab and office.

”I’m not running away. I’m going somewhere where they want to do things the way I think is right. Life’s too short to spend all of it fighting.”

“The hell it is!”

“You could always leave them without an agronomist and come with. They don’t wanna hear what you have to say and new dirt might be good for us both.”

“You know I can’t. Someone has to be here to help them solve the problems they’re about to create.”

“Won’t help and it certainly doesn’t have to be you.” Tumund shrugged. He remembered being her age. She’d stopped listening when she decided to talk him into staying.

“I’ll have to choose an apprentice,” She mumbled.

“I already chose one for you. He’ll be here in the morning.”

Tumund grinned as Ryca fumed, clenching her fists at her sides and taking a step toward him.

“You told me I’d get to choose my own apprentice when my training was complete!”

“And my master told me the same thing. Must be the oldest lie in Vanancian agronomy. It's a Master’s final duty to select a new understudy in the field. Ernyl may have taken your commencement from me, but I'll be damned if she changes this too or leans on you to seed her own person into our lab.”

For a moment there was silence. Then they laughed together and Ryca cried and embraced her teacher.

“Can I at least know who it is?” Ryca asked as she let go of him.

“Do yourself a favor and find out in the morning when you meet him. That’s the old way. No need to rush things, right?”

Ryca smiled and wiped the tears from her eyes.