Places Minerva may never go in person - the application process to take any sort of flight is grueling now, a policy change she loves and hates at the same time. The lab is a dozen labs, spread through not only Mexico but Guatemala, Belize, Colombia, Chile.
Lately it feels as inevitable as entropy, as the decaying neurons in her grandmother’s aging brain. “I should get back to work.”Įven with the carbon caps in place and urban agriculture at an all-time high, Mexico City keeps getting hotter. She worms her hand free, reads a priority message from the lab. The screen on her thumbnail pulses an acid yellow in the dusk. It’s swirled in silicon now, solar panels taking the place of ad screens, and the top is crowned with vegetation, but Minerva knows it’s not nearly enough, which is why her job is to recombine the genes of certain plants such that … Between the spindly branches of their pomegranate tree, the old BBVA tower juts into a bruise-purple sky. Ish wraps both arms around her she tips her head back against his collarbone. I just know it feels that way, and I hate it.” Every time I see her like this, I forget a little bit of how she used to be.” “And lately I’m scared I’m replacing her. Always the same stories on loop.” She stares hard at the planter. “Yeah.” Minerva squeezes back, gives a shuddery laugh. Ish gives her hand an absent-minded squeeze. To support our nonprofit environmental journalism, please consider disabling your ad-blocker to allow ads on Grist. “Her memory’s getting worse and worse,” she finally says. Minerva runs her finger along the soft pink-and-white petals of the verbena, the flower that was always her grandmother’s favorite. They work together to fix a hanging planter one of its ties came loose in yesterday’s wind and left it crooked. It doesn’t take long for Ish to come find her, how he’s been doing for almost 10 years, and let his soft space expand until it meets her jagged one. Her throat is still thick with a suppressed sob. Her fingers are still trembling, which she hates. Read the 2022 collection here.Īfter the digivisit with her grandmother Minerva goes straight to the terrace, to pointlessly rearrange the solar lights and hunt non-existent weeds in the hydrogarden. Imagine 2200, Fix’s climate fiction contest, recognizes stories that envision the next 180 years of equitable climate progress, imagining intersectional worlds of abundance, adaptation, reform, and hope.
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