Fiction River: How to Save the World by Fiction River

Author:Fiction River
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: contemporary sf, corporation, ais, science fiction, corporations, fiction river, hard sf
Publisher: WMG Publishing

***

It was raining again by the time she left town. The car’s fat, nubbed tires handled the wet and mud better than the old flat-surface tires ever had, but Paula still drove carefully up the winding road. Once she left the highway, with eight kilometers still to go, the road was packed dirt and gravel, and the wet weather had turned it into a stewed mess.

Abuelo Jimenez’ house was a bright island of beckoning comfort in the rainy night by the time she pulled her car up next to his ancient truck. She grabbed her bag and splashed up the squishy path to the front door, slipping inside quickly to keep the heat in.

“There you are! I thought you’d fallen into the lake!” He gave her a quick hug, ignoring her soaked coat, then pointed her to the door she knew perfectly well. “Go put on something dry. I’ll get supper on the table.”

“Yes, ‘Buelo.” Paula smiled at his retreating back and headed into his workroom, where she would sleep on the studio couch amid his tools and clutter. She didn’t mind at all. She’d slept in a similar room whenever she visited his farm as a child. The tools had been fascinating—they’d made her plastic toys look like cheap baby things. Abuelo’s projects, wood and metal and wires, had drawn her in, teased her with their promise of revealing how the world worked. How to make things, real things that people could use.

She was an engineer because of Abuelo Jimenez’ workroom.

While getting changed, she looked over the semi-ordered clutter on the big wooden bench. Her abuelo was the opposite of a specialist; he always seemed to be doing something different. Among the more common broken lamp to be fixed and cracked hoe handle to be replaced, there was always something new he was trying out or fiddling with.

The central project on the bench that evening was some kind of partially complete woven basket.

Paula pulled a warm sweater on over her head, slipped on a dry pair of shoes, and went to the bench for a closer look while toweling her hair.

The basket he was working on was odd, to say the least. The base seemed to be a half-crushed pad of thick, twiggy brush. Willow strips were woven through it, loosely—it wouldn’t hold anything much smaller than an egg—and built up around the sides to form a long, narrow, rectangular basket. A handspan of willow ends stuck up, so it probably wasn’t finished, but Paula had no idea what such a basket would be used for even when finished.

Warm, savory smells drew her out to the main room, where Abuelo was setting a cast-iron pot on the table. Paula sat down and he spooned a hearty stew onto her plate—haunch of goat cooked tender (well, almost) with peppers and onions and chunks of orange squash, and some cilantro on top. It was one of her favorites, and she knew he had made it just for her.

They caught up a bit during dinner, exchanging news, but mostly eating in comfortable silence.

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