Scavengers

April 11th, 2206

Contested Territory

Weak morning sun barely penetrated the fog blanketing the long abandoned city center. Oren had risen at dawn to take the hovercraft from New Harbor for a day of prospecting pre-Collapse relics with three fellow researchers and museum curators. Though this area was considered contested territory between New Harbor and the various rural collectives of the upper Great Lakes watershed, few people seemed to actually visit; Oren had never seen anyone else during his prospecting missions over the years. Once they landed, a hovering orb robot exited the craft, scanning the surroundings for safety threats before starting on its journey circling the urban ruins to collect environmental data. Oren and his colleagues, Stefan, Mae, and Raina, stepped out of the craft donning gloves, bulky black air filtration masks, and light daypacks.

Stefan, the crew lead, gave directives: “Hoverbot came back negative for immediate safety threats. I’ll go north to sweep the historic district. Mae will go south, Raina east, and Oren west. Flag any threats and meet back at the craft before five. All clear?” The crew nodded in assent, then headed in their respective directions.

Oren walked through the main thoroughfare of the former city, knee high grass sporadically poking up through the concrete roads and sidewalks. The sun was finally bright enough to burn through the fog, illuminating buildings in various states of decay: some scarcely crumbling brick buildings were overgrown with vines, while others were nothing more than piles of rubble. Oren entered the first building he saw that had a functional door: Sparky’s Diner, the sign lettering a faded, patchy red. The door opened with some effort, the hinges rusted. Inside, striped leather booths sagged with age and disuse, and a thick layer of dust covered the metal tables and tile floor. It was one of the better preserved establishments he’d entered. Inspired, he quickly made his way back to the kitchen area of the diner, hoping it was equally well-preserved. Most of the previous missions were simple: find items relevant to ongoing research projects, and collect whatever else was in good enough condition to be catalogued for the New Harbor museum. The kitchen was a treasure trove of practically pristine pre-Collapse cooking machinery - deep fryers, griddles, toasters, kettles, food processors, as well as other common kitchen implements. Equipment like this were simply not manufactured anymore, at least not to the scale they once were. Oren began to catalog each item with his portable indexing scanner, before carefully putting the best-preserved equipment into his daypack.

As Oren was loading a toaster into his daypack, he heard the front door squeak open. His chest tightened - he would have heard over the comm if it was one of his colleagues. As silently as he could manage, he sneaked to the kitchen door and peeked through the window to see a young woman with waist-length curly brown hair, wearing a fabric mask and at least three different packs on her person. Oren had visited a rural collective once before, and she was dressed similarly to the villagers he’d met there. Tentatively, he opened the door. Immediately the woman faced Oren and unsheathed a dagger, pointing it toward him, her eyes fierce. Oren held up his hands, checked his arm monitor for safe air quality levels, then slowly removed his mask, setting it on the floor, keeping his eyes on her. The woman continued to hold up her dagger, though no longer pointed it directly at him and relaxed her stance, her eyes softening.

Oren put his arms back up in the air: “My name is Oren. I’m a researcher from New Harbor on a prospecting mission. I mean no harm.” He nodded to the woman’s dagger. She hesitated for a moment before sheathing the dagger on a leather toolbelt.

“I’m Kaya, from the Lakeland collective. I’m here to forage for tools for our homestead.” Kaya said through her mask, her voice low and guarded. “What do you mean by a ‘prospecting mission’?”

“In New Harbor, we collect artifacts for display in our historical museum. We go on prospecting missions to retrieve items.” Oren set his daypack on the floor next to his mask, taking out the toaster, “like this toaster. Though I’d be willing to give this to you if you have use for it on your homestead.”

Kaya hesitated before approaching him cautiously.

“Thank you,” Kaya took the toaster with gloved hands, then walked back several feet, pulled down her mask, and smiled at him. Sun streamed through the diner windows illuminating her figure in a white aura. Dust swirled at her feet.

“You’re welcome,” Oren cleared his suddenly dry throat. “There are more artifacts- I mean, equipment, back in the kitchen. Do you want me to help you load any items?”

“That’s generous of you,” Kaya nodded, then gestured outside, “I have a wagon out there I was planning to use for tools too heavy to carry. Could you help me load them there?”

They fell into a comfortable rhythm - Kaya would indicate which equipment she wanted, and Oren would carry it into the wagon, as Kaya loaded smaller items in the various packs and bags she carried on her person. They spoke idly about the weather, Kaya’s life on the homestead and Oren’s in the city, and before long they had scavenged most of the kitchen bare. Oren was disappointed at how quickly the time had flown by.

“Thank you for your help. I couldn’t have gotten most of these items without you.” Kaya smiled at Oren, and his chest swelled. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

“Well, if it’s alright with you, I’d like to walk with you for a little while. I’m guessing you’re headed back to your homestead,” Oren gestured at the full wagon.

“That I am.”

“I could haul the wagon for you for a little ways,” Oren offered.

Kaya flashed a brilliant smile at him. “There you go helping me again. I’m surprised I didn’t bore you with talking about homestead life.”

“Quite the contrary,” Oren said, smiling and holding the diner door open for her, “I’d love to hear more.” Noting the thick haze outside, he did a scan of air quality, which indicated it was unsafe without filtration. He put his mask back on, and Kaya followed suit.

They trudged westward together in companionable silence for a while before they got to talking about the different kinds of foliage that had started reclaiming the barren city. Oren discovered that Kaya was incredibly knowledgeable - not only did she know the common names of the plants they passed, but the scientific terminology too. He noticed the way Kaya’s eyes lit up when she talked about plants.

“How did you come to know so much about botany?” Oren’s voice was muffled through the bulky mask.

Kaya brushed an errant curl out of her face. “Ever since I was a kid I spent many hours in the forest gathering and talking about plants with my nana. When she was too old to come along she sent me off with a field guide. Now I’m the botanist for the collective, helping out with invasives, foraging, and plant identification.”

“Impressive.”

Kaya shrugged. “Everybody’s got their thing. What about you?”

“I guess it would be research about the Collapse. Historical, scientific, anthropological. I study anything that catches my interest. Speaking of that…” Oren stopped and turned to face Kaya, “I want to ask a favor of you.”

Kaya cocked her head, “I’m listening.”

“Would you be willing to come to New Harbor for a research fellowship to share some of your knowledge about the local flora? You could help teach some of our upper level students and further our ongoing botanical research. I’d be happy to host you.”

Kaya’s eyes widened and she stiffened slightly. “I don’t know… I’ve got a lot of responsibilities on the homestead. I’ve always wanted to visit New Harbor, but my parents, well…” Her voice dropped off, her eyebrows knit together, and she suddenly seemed fascinated by the ground.

“I understand. Think on it. I’m going on another prospecting mission next week.” Oren took a portable monitor out of his pack, and pulled up a three-dimensional holographic map of the local area. “Do you recognize this region?”

Kaya squinted at the holographic map before nodding.

“That’s where I’ll be.”

“Hm… I do need to forage for a few more things… and I suppose I’d like to see you again,” Oren could hear Kaya’s smile in her voice.

“I’d like to see you again too,” Oren said.

“Then it’s a date,” Kaya extended a gloved hand to Oren, and they shook.

“This is where I leave you,” Oren said, and handed Kaya the wagon before they went their separate ways. Oren stole a few glances back at Kaya as he headed back in the direction of the hovercraft.

***

August 27th, 2206

New Harbor

Oren watched Kaya from across the atrium of the New Harbor Historical Museum, where she stood beneath a cascade of vertical gardens talking animatedly with Mae about medicinal herbs.

Oren broke into their conversation. “I hate to interrupt, but Kaya and I have a block party potluck to attend. Can’t show up with cold lentil soup and stale bread.”

“Of course,” Mae raised her eyebrows and looked at Kaya with a knowing smile. Kaya gave a throaty chuckle before linking arms with Oren.

Kaya had been in New Harbor for two weeks now. She seemed overwhelmed by the city at first - she took in the bright lights, constant noise, and hoverbots maneuvering through the air with a mixture of wide-eyed wonder and apprehension. Oren did his best to take her to all the places around the city that he thought she would enjoy: farmer’s markets, his favorite local teashop, the makerspace, the botanical society. Each day she opened up more. She talked to vendors with the same enthusiasm she would share knowledge with students about local plants.

Oren and Kaya quickly headed back to Oren’s place, grabbed the soup and bread, and made their way to the block filled with tables of home-cooked food, adults chatting, and kids chasing each other.

Oren leaned into Kaya. “You ready?”

Kaya smiled and nodded. They were approached right away by Oren’s senior next door neighbor, Josie, who peppered Kaya with questions about homestead life which she answered cheerfully.

“How did you two meet anyway?” Josie asked.

Oren spoke first. “I was in contested territory on a prospecting mission gathering relics for the museum. You know when we first met, Kaya was going to stab me?” Josie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Oren smirked and Kaya gave him a playful jab, her cheeks burning red.

“I was being vigilant, that’s all,” Kaya said.

“Perfectly sensible. I could have been a raider. Thankfully I’m just a nerdy researcher from New Harbor. Though I was worried you might not believe me while your dagger was pointed at me,” Oren pantomimed being stabbed, and Kaya rolled her eyes and smiled.

At first they stuck together chatting with familiar neighbors, but then they began to drift apart in the social dance of conversation, intermingled with bites of food. Kaya and Oren shot each other furtive glances throughout, smiling when their eyes met. Eventually the block party wrapped up, as sated neighbors meandered home with their leftovers and arms around loved ones. Oren approached Kaya and gently touched her shoulder.

“If you’re up for it, would you go on one final outing with me for the day?” Oren asked.

Kaya’s lips quirked. “Sure -- where?”

“It’s a surprise. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“I trust you.”

They walked in silence for a short while, before Kaya said, “You’re a man of mystery, Oren, you know that?”

Oren laughed. “I don’t mean to be. What do you want to know about me?”

“Hmm… What got you into research?”

Oren paused, weighing what to say. “I suppose it was fear, at least at first. After learning the history of the Collapse with climate disasters, unchecked epidemics, and life turning into a battle for survival, I became scared. I was paralyzed, really, that we were due for the same fate as our ancestors. So I dove into the research as a way to cope with the fear, and one thread became increasingly clear -- those who chose to stick together and learn from each other were far more resilient than those who became isolated from one another.”

Kaya hummed and nodded. “We always say on the homestead that we can only heal in community.”

“Exactly, and I think that catalyzed me. I still get scared from time to time, after a particularly rough superstorm or when there have been relentless forest fires and drought or we’ve quarantined for a long stretch, but I know that as long as we keep building community, that’s the best chance we’ve got to rebuild our world.”

Kaya smiled. “I couldn’t agree more. Can I ask you a different kind of question?”

“Anything you want,” Oren said.

“Have you ever been in a serious relationship?”

“I’ve dated here and there, but I wouldn’t consider those relationships serious. Sorry, I suppose that doesn’t tell you much. How about you?”

Kaya shrugged. “The same. My parents keep telling me that I should visit other collectives to see if I can make a connection, but…” she trailed off.

Oren hesitated before asking, “Do you think your parents would approve of you being with someone outside of a collective?”

Kaya chewed her lip, looking thoughtful. “My mom would be understanding. My dad might need more convincing -- he’s old world like that. But at the end of the day it’s my choice. Ultimately I think they just want me to be happy.” Kaya glanced up at Oren, the tension between them fraught.

“Ah, we’re here. Just in time.” Oren pointed to the most spectacular garden Kaya had ever seen. Golden sun melted into the horizon, silhouetting vibrant flowers and leaves.

“It’s beautiful,” Kaya stared ahead, mesmerized. Oren gazed at her features, memorizing the contours of her face, relishing her genuine delight.

“I knew you’d love it.”

After a moment of taking in the view, Kaya turned to Oren.

“I want to rebuild the world with you,” she said.

“I want nothing more.” Oren leaned in to kiss Kaya, and she responded in kind.

***

May 6th, 2207

Lakelander Homestead

Smoke billowed in a tall plume at the top of the hill, which was dotted with oak and maple trees. The collective was smaller than Oren had imagined and larger than he could take in at once. Forty-odd structures: timber-framed, cob-built, some fashioned from old shipping containers, were all connected by worn footpaths. Children chased chickens between garden rows. Someone was splitting wood with methodical rhythm. The smell of freshly baked bread drifted from an open window.

“You made it,” Kaya’s voice rang out. Oren turned to see Kaya beaming, and relief washed over him. They shared a long embrace.

“I’m sorry it took so long. I’ve missed you.” Oren said.

Kaya nodded, her eyes shimmering, “So have I.”

“Good news -- my research venture got approved. I’ll be staying here on the homestead for six months studying historical archives from the collective.”

“That’s the best news! Six whole months!” Kaya squeezed his hands. “I’m so glad you’re here. Are you ready to meet my family?” Kaya asked, almost shyly.

“I am,” Oren said, hoping his voice didn’t betray how desperately he wanted to make a good impression.

“You’ll be fine,” Kaya said, as if reading his mind, and patted his hand. They walked hand in hand toward the nearest log cabin, the midday sun warming their backs, birds chirping in the forest on the hillside.