Re: [OT] Short sci-fi story: The Lifeboat
Desperate attmpt to resurrect this story. Remember anyone can join in and write something.
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It was decided by vote that the Last apple should go to Kodwo. Not because of the patriarchal status his advanced age gave him among the people with whom he had arrived, or even because of the wisdom and agricultural knowledge that had proved invaluable to the greater community since his arrival, but because he was ill, and he could probably use the vitamins. He would accept little else in the way of medicine- not that there was much to offer- and he insisted on attending the nightly meetings by the fire, despite his shivers, sweats and coughing. It was only a cold, and Kodwo was only sixty-two years old, but his years weighed far more heavily upon him than they did on some of the western refugees of similar age.
The Groups looked on reverently as Kodwo ate the piece of fruit- itself almost as wrinkled as he- until only the seeds remained. These he kept carefully. Even if they or any of the others planted over the Last month or so should grow into mature trees, it would be years before they yielded fruit, and everyone was aware of that fact as they watched Kodwo wipe his mouth in satisfaction and tug his blanket tighter around himself, shuffling closer to the fire with a long, rattling cough. The vast majority of human infections had been left behind on Earth, but a few had been carried onto the new world, and they had all spread quickly throughout the colony's limited population. The coughs and colds had barely slowed most people, but some had been more vulnerable than others. Surprisingly, one of the most problematic illnesses had proved to be one of the most benign. Within a fortnight of arrival, at least half the Groups were exhibitting symptoms of athlete's foot. Outraged, and at the peak of forced nicotine withdrawal, Maggie had demanded to know who had brought it from Earth, and why they hadn't shown a little consideration by trying to prevent the spread of the condition. No-one admitted it, and Maggie had rounded on Steve, who she disliked anyway. According to her, he was the only person in the group inconsiderate enough to do something like that, and the affair had escalated quickly into a shouting match before Ruth had stepped in, defused the situation and arbritrated some frosty apologies.
"Tomorrow, my grandson Kwame will go on the bicycle and plant these apple seeds on the south west border of the forest," said Kodwo, extending his fist to the adolescent, then unfurling his fingers to let the apple seeds drop into Kwami's outstrecthed palm.
"Why should we plant them right on the border?" Asked Graeme. "We have plenty of space nearer the camp, I think we should plant them with the other fruit trees to the north of the parsnip field."
"It will be the beginning of a road." Said Kodwo, definitively. He pointed a bony finger to three metal poles sticking upright out of the ground. "The space people told us where to find the third village. We must begin to build a road."
The only things of their own the aliens had left behind when they left were the metal rods the old man had indicated. The shortest one was the "centre" pole. According to the aliens, if you drew a straight line from the centre pole to the second tallest, and then extended it by about ten miles, you would reach the other lakeside settlement. Graeme and Kwami had proved this correct a month earlier on the mountain bikes. A line from the centre pole to the tallest pole, which pointed roughly south west, would, apparently, lead directly to the settlement two or three thousand miles away on the far side of the continent. Most of the refugees had complained bitterly about the imprecision of this instrument, given the technologies available to their space-faring saviours. Kodwo, however, rarely complained about anything.
"We must contact our fellows to the South West, just as we contacted the village on the lake. It is a long way away, so we must build a road."
"Kodwo," began John, "I agree that it would be nice to find the others, but we have too many other ways to spend our time and energy. The village to the South West is thousands of miles away. It's too far to walk or to cycle, even on a road, especially without any sources of food between here and there. "
"I have considered this." Replied Kodwo, almost immediately. "We will line the road with trees, so that travellers upon it will not go hungry."
"And what if we misjudge the line?" Asked Graeme, reasonably. "Even if we grow your trees, which would take years, and then build your road, which will take even longer, we can't possibly carry a dead stright line over those distances. Even a few degrees of error at this end could put us tens or hundreds of miles off course at the other."
Kodwo, however, was adamant.
"The space people will have left poles for the other village. They will be building a road of their own, and we must meet them half-way. If the line is not straight, we will find them anyway by the smoke of their fires. If this takes many years to do, then we must start as soon as we can. Tomorrow, Kwami will plant these seeds in the direction of the line. The apple was given to me, and the seeds are part of the apple." And that was an end to it.
The following morning, using more sticks carefully lined up with the first two, they extended the south-west line and determined the exact direction of the road. Following this line to the border of the great scorched circle that surrounded the camp. The entire community went there, and between them they soon cleared the native plants in the appropriate place, laying two great trunks in two parallel lines that would mark the boundaries of the three-metre wide road. Alongside the logs, Kwame planted six apple seeds, three on each side of the road, and lovingly poured some water on them. Finally he bowed his head and wept, for beneath the first of the six seeds lay the body of his grandfather Kodwo, who had died in his sleep overnight.
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