His aunt said, “What are you thinking, Darius?”
“Calculating. I figure each floor could hold maybe ten people. That’s— eight thousand people? Can’t be right.”
His uncle snorted. “Ten people to a floor? More like fifty.”
He re-ran the numbers. Forty thousand people? Impossible.
“Darius, do you know why we brought you here?”
“Why?”
His uncle gestured toward the city. “That was your life. Your future. Slaving away on the farm, struggling to raise a few crops, hunting for food, that’s not how you should be living. But your life, your future was taken from you by the Collapse. I don’t want you to forget that. One day, maybe you’ll be able to get it back, maybe not. But don’t ever forget that you had it. Now come on. Let’s have lunch.”
“But Uncle Rolf, what happened? What was the Collapse? And if people were that smart, why didn’t they stop it?”
“That’s a conversation for later. Right now, all I want is for you to understand what you’ve lost. The question of what happened and what you can do about it is for another time. Helena, let’s eat.”
That was the end of his uncle’s lesson. But there was more. Sometimes at night, he would lie on his back and gaze at the stars. Mostly they stayed in the same place, drifting above him in a circle. But a few of them swept across the sky, disappearing over the horizon. The first time he saw one, he had cried out in surprise. Uncle Rolf told him he’d seen a satellite. If he couldn’t imagine how anyone could build a building forty floors tall, he was baffled at the thought of building a box and hurling it into the sky. And not only could he not understand how this had been done, he couldn’t grasp why. Why would anyone go to all the trouble to send a machine into the sky just to go around the world?
And he heard that the Collapse hadn’t affected the rest of the world. Some place called America hadn’t suffered from it. American cities were still full of people, airplanes flew there, and Americans still sent up those shiny points of light into the night sky. But America was off limits. When the Collapse came, they sealed their border, put in a barbed wire fence, and sent armed troops to guard it. Darius began to feel like a prisoner in his own land.
6
TERMINATION
Todd Baxter surveyed the city from his balcony. Bert’s news and Ellen’s fears were a shock, but not a surprise. The media had been gloomy. Oil prices were tumbling. While that delighted motorists, it did not bode well for the industry. Already, companies were pulling back, cutting exploration, laying off staff. In time, the prices would rise, of course. All the pundits agreed. But these were the same pundits who had assured people when oil was hitting a hundred dollars a barrel that the future would only be brighter for the industry. Baxter wasn’t alone in asking that if industry analysts had missed this plunge, why should he believe their new prognostications.
But oil prices were just one part of the decline. Yes, prices were down, but they were still high enough to make most production profitable. The problem was getting it to market. Existing pipelines were full. Rail cars were full. The industry needed more capacity, but all proposals to build it were met with opposition. And the opposition wasn’t just coming from protestors, it was coming from governments. It was coming in the form of new regulations, revised approval procedures, court challenges.
These two problems, prices and transport, had merged to create uncertainty and despair. Baxter walked past office towers and warehouses displaying rental signs. A news report told of a six-month wait time to book a moving company. The malls seemed less crowded, blank walls shielding the skeletons of bustling stores that had welcomed throngs of customers.
Baxter’s employer specialized in computer systems to support the oil industry. Already, there had been layoffs. His manager had assured him this was temporary. The company was trimming junior staff until the economy picks up again. Todd’s job was secure, and there was nothing to worry about. He worried anyway.
“WE HAVE AN update on our story of two days ago. The Central Railway has been granted an injunction preventing the Coanth First Nation from blocking its trains. David Caraway has that report.”
“Yes, Joanne. Just two hours ago, the British Columbia Supreme Court issued an injunction against the Coanth First Nation ordering them to remove their blockade of the rail line. They have seventy-two hours to comply. I spoke with Chief Samuels. Here are his comments.”
“We do not recognize any authority other than our own. We are sovereign in our land. The courts have no jurisdiction over our lands. This ruling is an insult to our brothers and sisters everywhere.”
“Does that mean you won’t honour it, Chief?”
“We are a peaceful people. We do not want confrontation, so our lawyers are studying this ruling and will advise us what to do next.”
“The court has given you three days to comply. Will you have a response?”
“We will not be pressured.”
“What will you do if the railway attempts to enforce the injunction?”
“We will not give in. This is our land, and we will protect it.”
“Does that mean you would resist the police if they tried to clear your protest?”
“This is our land, and we will protect it.”
“So there you have it, Joanne. The Coanth are not backing down. I expect they’ll appeal this injunction, but that will take time. For now, tempers are getting short.”
“David, could this escalate into violence?”
“That depends on the response by Central Railway. Things are calm for now, but if the railway attempts to run coal trains through the Coanth lands or tries to enforce the injunction, all bets are off. In that case, violence is a real possibility.”
“Has the railway indicated what they will do?”
“They declined an on-camera interview. In a written statement they said that they are studying the ruling and will announce their decision in a few days.”
TODD BAXTER SAT in the dark of his apartment, his head spinning, his termination slip in his hand. His boss had been sympathetic. “Todd, I know I told you a year ago that things would pick up, and your job was safe. Now I wish I hadn’t been so casual. I regret having to do this, but we’re struggling in this economy. We’ve just lost three major contracts with oil companies, and we figure it won’t be long before we lose more. I’m really sorry.”
Baxter asked, “Is this temporary until the industry recovers?”
His boss sighed. “I’m not sure the industry will recover.”
“What? Why not? Surely oil prices will rise again.”
“Yes, they’ll rise, but so what? We can’t build pipelines to get it to market, and the environmentalists are starting to target rail transport. These oil companies are international. If they can’t get their product to the market, they’ll be out of here faster than you can say gusher.”
Baxter studied his boss. “You’re afraid this entire company may have to close?”
“There’s six weeks’ severance pay on top of your regular salary.” He paused. “My advice? Get out of Alberta. The only industry that’s growing in this country right now is government. Good luck, Todd.”
The doorbell buzzed. His friends. It was Friday night, and he had forgotten to order the pizza. He took a deep breath, composed his face, and let them in.
His efforts failed. Sangster’s eyes started to water. “Todd, no.”
Tallman said, “Oh, man. You too? Bummer.”