[NOTE: This is a rewrite of the story #SwiftFicFriday Week 110 : The Greenhouse. This is what happens when I take the time to rewrite the story. When I wrote the original, I knew it sucked. I knew I could improve it. But I lacked the time to do that before the deadline for the weekly challenge. This morning, I took the time to fix much of what was wrong with it. This is the result.]
I could always count on a walk through the greenhouse to calm me down, and recharge me. After that last couple of months, I certainly needed recharging.
I’d just returned from the most recent Earth expedition. We’d captured a couple of people, and hauled them to the colony on Callisto. The colony was where we kept people to ensure we didn’t wipe ourselves from existence when they finished destroying our civilization again.
For over 12,000 years we’d been watching our people recover from the last time we destroyed our civilization.
Back then, we’d used up all the freshwater, and destroyed the topsoil. Most of us starved in the resulting drought, and planet wide food shortage. A few of us, in particular, the most wealthy, had managed to escape the destruction by leaving the planet, and setting up a series of colonies.
First on the moon, then on Mars. Lastly, to the moons of Jupiter and Saturn. That’s where I lived, where my greenhouse was. Beneath the methane clouds of Titan. Water frozen harder than any rock on Earth. Extreme temperatures. Extreme weather. I had to have a survival suit on if I went outside.
Now, our descendants on Earth were doing the same thing we’d done. Wiping out the planet’s ability to support them in the endless quest for money and power.
That’s why we set up the colony on Callisto. To save a few of them, in case they managed to become extinct on Earth. Then, when the time was right, we’d put a few of them back, and let the whole process start over again. Perhaps on a third attempt, we’d figure out how to live with the planet, and become a fully developed people.
If not, we could always try a fourth time.