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Mother

  by

  Michael J. McDonald

  * * * * *

  Cover Photograph by BirkFoto

  Mother

  Copyright 2012 by Michael J. McDonald

  Dr. Syd let the papers fall to the desk. They scattered with a whisper as he collapsed into his chair. He leant forward, poring over the figures again, his eyes racing to the conclusion that smeared the report with its damning ink. It was happening. It had been happening for over a generation, unknown and unchecked. Within the next century, humanity would be extinct, wiped from the face of the Earth. And the progenitor of this destruction was the course of nature itself.

  He plucked up the phone and dialled. Now, he had to find someone who would believe him.

  #

  “Since the Great Calamity of February 14th, 2016, population rates have been dwindling. The cause: Mother Nature.”

  There was a ripple of incredulity amongst the audience. Laura could only make out a few gleaming shoes and cloudy beards in the hazy seats ahead of her, so blinding was the light from the projector at the back of the room. She was rather glad of that, it hid their inevitable disappointment in the faces behind those beards; disappointment in the department’s brightest student advocating its least popular theory. What a shame, they would think with a shake of their heads, she had been so promising. Now she had allowed herself to be sucked into a renegade’s madness.

  It had been three weeks since the publication of her tutor Dr. Syd’s paper. It had been met with criticism, as expected, to the point that colleagues and supposed friends of the Doctor had been writing public rebuttals claiming he should transfer to the English department, where his creative writing skills would be more appreciated.

  But nobody analysed the science. They dismissed it out of hand, because the immediate premise was one they would not accept: the world was an intelligence, an independent entity with an instinct for self-preservation. And its immune system was fighting off a virus which had caused great damage already.

  “Biological and nuclear attacks during those dark times have naturally had their toll on fertility around the world. However, sterilization rates have also been found to be on the increase across the planet, and not only in the areas affected by the Atlantic War,” she plunged on, not ready to give them the chance to put her off course. They probably wouldn’t believe a word she said, but she had to get all the information out there. Just in case. “Pubescence ages are dropping, meanwhile, making humans fertile at younger and younger ages and in women bringing down the average age of menopause. Menstrual cycles are accelerating in females across the world as they shed their eggs quicker and quicker. An average in this institution is now sixteen menstruations a year. The statistics are undeniable.”

  She took a breath, and gripped the lectern for support. A pale blue light fell across her face as the projector clicked onto the next slide in her presentation: Earth, with a rather angry expression on its cartoon face.

  “Nature itself is making human life unsustainable on this planet. The average temperature is rising, land masses are shrinking, and tectonic events are becoming evermore frequent. Areas not contaminated with radiation or biological agents are at risk of flood, earthquake, volcanic eruption and harsh storms.” She pressed her finger to her notes, emphasising as strongly as she could. “And the latest Kyoto figures suggest that the atmosphere is changing proportions to make less oxygen available to us.”

  There was silence in the glare.

  “This planet it trying to pick us off as a species. It is making itself uninhabitable for us. We must do all we can to reverse the damage before it is too late. We’re not killing the planet, the planet is killing us.”

  There was a chuckle. Then a cough. In the murky lecture hall she could see the shadows of heads shaking. As she’d thought, no-one believed a word.

  Then a hand was raised.

  It took Laura a moment to respond, she was so surprised that anyone was interested enough to ask a question. “Yes, Dr. Carter?” she rushed, a little over eager.

  “Well, I’m just wondering,” began Dr. Carter, a thin middle-aged man with his feet up on the chair in front of him, even though it was occupied. “How, exactly, does a planet make the decision to get rid of an annoying pest? Now I’m not saying that you’re wrong or crazy or more full of crap than the bathroom at an Indian restaurant...”

  “Thank you.”

  “Because, well, it goes without saying, doesn’t it? But still, I think we’d all like to know, just what is it that’s in the Earth that makes it think?”

  The jibe hurt, but Laura had been prepared for this kind of question. She and Dr. Syd had gone over it many times. It fascinated her, really, with her Philosophy minor, and the question being more appropriate than perhaps Dr. Carter realised. Her choice of Philosophy had never sat well with the rest of the department, of course, who expected her to devote even more of her gold dust-like time on getting good grades, and more funding. For them. Philosophy was a nice break from the lab, though, and she wasn’t giving that up. In fact, it had even aided the research, and now gave her a bat to whack Dr. Carter’s comment right out the park, his smug grin along with it.

  “What is it that’s in you that makes you think, Dr. Carter?”

  Carter sniggered. “My brain, sweetheart.”

  “And what is it that’s in your brain that makes you think? Where is the little compartment that is you? The decision-maker, the person who chooses to wear a horrendously clashing tie with that grubby shirt or the little voice that goes ‘Today I’m going to be an asshole’?”

  Thank goodness he wasn’t head of the department anymore. After the incident, she didn’t need to keep her mouth shut around him and his irritating smile.

  “Now that’s just not scientific language,” Dr. Carter bit back, deftly avoiding the question. “Are you a real scientist or are you and the mad professor just working in the labs every night so you can concoct some free viagra for your rigor mortis ridden lover?”

  The crowd hooted. Even the most serious minds in the state loved gossip. Laura swallowed her reply, tensing to retain her composure.

  “That’s enough,” Dr. Syd hissed from the back of the room. She hadn’t seen him come in, but at least he was here now. Laura wondered how much of the lecture he had seen, and if she had done his work justice in presenting it to the masses. Not that the masses cared. Maybe the Earth had a point.

  “If there are no more serious questions, that will be all,” Laura said. “Leaflets, including a further reading list and all the statistics from today’s lecture, are available on the table at the front for anyone... interested...”

  They were already out of their seats and shuffling towards the door.