30
Dear sweet Miles,
I hope this letter finds you in a good way. I’d be willing to bet you’re doing big things up there, maybe even saved the world by now, just remember to save a little fun for me too.
And would you look at that moon. She’s watching us both at this very instant, connecting our dreams, and our hearts, and that kiss was something else, huh? I’m still tingling from it all, of course it was just ten minutes ago as I write this, but I’d guess that neither of us will have forgotten that moment as we sit here staring at our moon together.
I’m so excited to hear of your adventure, and so very proud of the Earth helper I’ve watched you become, I can’t begin to imagine the person you’ll have evolved into by the next time we touch each other. You’re gonna do such great work along your path of discovery, you’re gonna save lives out there, maybe even your own.
I’ll very much be looking forward to our next moon together, to catching up on old times, and making a couple new ones. We’re connected, me and you, in a way beyond any words I could possibly write, and we’re gonna share in the glamour of so many future memories, I know it. It’s getting me all flustered just thinking about it, thinking about you, thinking that if I don’t wrap this up soon I may end up sneaking back over to your tent, thinking that wouldn’t be so bad, but knowing that I have to let you go on your way in order for the sizzle between us to bloom into something extraordinary.
So you take care of yourself out there, and take care of others, and take care of our mom, and just keep being so sweet and real and full of life, and one day soon we’ll see each other again, and it’ll feel like we were never really apart as we pick back up right where we left off. Mmm...
So much love and light from me to you,
-Annie
He read it twice by the candlelight of a hidden moon, and again as he woke from a dream of similar content. Her words urging him into action, her tone inviting him to linger in the warmth for another moment, her love invigorating his passion for life as he felt his heart swaying in the wind.
He’d only been up for two days, but already felt a welcomed part of the living canopy, a nuthatch stopped in with a basket of cookies. His roommate knew a million card games, and even more philosophical conundrums, like, “In a riddle whose only answer is chess, what is the only word that is prohibited?”
Ground support launched a barrage of encouragement, Bill reemerged from crisis, the countdown to reprieve left Miles longing for an extension as he escaped the gravity of environmental collapse. He’d never felt so accomplished with such little effort, maybe he could change the world without standing up after all, just another day or two and he’d have himself figured out as well.
“Base camp to SkyFortress, come in SkyFortress.”
Here they were, his marching orders of retreat, a beckoning down to Earth as his head was pulled from the clouds. He could always just not respond.
“SkyFortress, pick up, this is no time to screen calls.”
Busted.
“What? I mean, SkyFortress here, how may I direct your call?”
“Goose,” addressed Bill with his serious ears on. “They’re coming.”
There was only one they in the community of we. Miles could hear the whine of security jobs approaching in the distance, the proverbial day had arrived to draw the lines, Miles made a note to be careful what he wished for.
“Xerox that, just hope you catch me on the flipside.”
“We’ll keep the frybread warm for you.”
With the hatches battened and shoestrings hanging by a double knot, Miles zipped away a third wall of the plotted device for his own binocular pat down, and confirmation that this wasn’t a drill.
No drill, but a fleet of caterpillars climbed over the hill, chewing near enough that their engines could be felt through the trees, the dozing bulls were tired of sleeping through dinner. They weren’t coming to extract the drops in the bucket that dangled in front of them, not yet anyway, but who knew when Paul Bunyan would show up to celebrate America’s rich history of selling out its future.
The demolition derby circled the wagons a few hundred yards from the woodline, they weren’t here for Miles, but they were here to let him know that regardless of his suspended sentence, business went on as usual. The ground troops knew this was coming, an arsenal of delay tactics waited in the wings, the balcony was at capacity as they watched tensions thicken from the best seats in the treehouse.
The offense of authority was unseen, but presumably lied in formation just over the hill, whatever defensive play was in the works would have to move quickly if it were to complete the interception. A hundred protectors collected themselves, from the eye in the sky they appeared as one cohesive organism, the Earth was frothing with antibodies as she fought off her own demise.
“SkyFortress, what’s your twenty?”
Only a seasoned Water Protector could partake in radio humor at a time like this.
“We ran to the store, be back in a few.”
“You got eyes on the action?”
“Affirmative.”
“Any reinforcements on the way?”
“Negative, unless they’re listening in now.”
“Copy, hang tight.”
It was assumed that radio chatter was monitored, Bill wouldn’t have risked interference unless it was too late to be stopped, Miles could feel the mounting energy reach its tipping point. A shout of “Mni Wiconi” must have been the signal. Eight part harmony swarmed the tanks with choreographed precision, each team took control of the wheel as they evicted the previous tenants from their imminent domain.
It’s remarkably easy to talk the labor union into taking the rest of the day off. No loaded weapons or empty threats necessary, just a kind hearted explanation that we’ll be taking over now, and a reminder that they’re not paid near enough to deal with this kind of hassle. They don’t care to run over civilians, nor do they care to sit around and listen to them complain. They don’t even care about the pipeline really, this is just their job, be it one that they need to support their out of state family, since no locals would take the gig. But once it’s apparent that the people have reinstated the work stoppage, it’s really quite pointless to resist the temptation of an afternoon nap.
They took along the keys, so there was no honky tonk parade for the police to escort, but this one wasn’t about theft or vandalism charges, it was going to be a daily grind of lockdowns and local motives. Each crew slid their custom fabricated apparatus through the hydraulic components of their respective Earth mover, Miles reported another movement crawling over the hill. The action was swift, arrestables handcuffed themselves into the reinforcements as they sacrificed freedom for liberty, the accessories retreated as the calvary mobilized against revolution. Paul livestreamed the whole thing from the only angle they couldn’t suppress.
It would take hours to cut through each restraint, Miles only counted two saws, it was gonna be dark before either side could clockdown for the night. Another day of demolition averted, just gotta keep this up until somebody at home decides to do something, could be you.
The boys dug out some snacks as they mystery-scienced the theater below. Paul’s phone was filming from a treepod, but not close enough to pick up what the noise was all about. Some of the restrained were streaming audio of their incapacitation, most were well-spoken, and finding ample downtime to share their worldly wisdom with the earplugged hearts of the humans on the other side. The high wire couldn’t hear any of that though, Paul could sync them in post, even from the stand, but for now, some bad lipreading and leftover frybread would have to entertain them.
By midafternoon, half of the prisoners were uncuffed and free to be incarcerated, the workday was shot, but no guns were. The cops padded their quota without seriously harming anyone, not that they were particularly gentle on the disarmed impediments, but only one work crew could legitimately claim the day as progress.
A line of riot gear pushed the innocent bystanders to their limit, a military truck and fencing unit deployed a razor wire perimeter along the easement, and then another to restrict the footprint of the most exclusive party in town. No more up and down, no more frybread, no more reasons not to crack into the MREs. There were two ten-foot barriers between Miles and escape, yet he still felt freer than the caged rat of his past, plus Bill was probably down there digging a tunnel to somewhere or another.
A megaphone offered one last chance to surrender the high ground before Good Cop went on vacation.
“You know you’re trespassing, don’t you?”
Miles wanted to yell down something about obstructing for justice, or that they had the landowner’s permission to protest the illegal use of eminent domain for privately exported profits, or that there was a treaty that superseded even that authority. Wanted to impress upon the ears of someone who wasn’t ready to listen, but who would be attempting to identify the sitters through facial and voice recognition, plus infiltrator intel, at which point their threats would gain enough leverage to pry any sane person out of a forty foot trampoline treehouse.
He saved his voice and let his fans speak for him from the sidelines. Radio transmissions would be kept to a minimum. Paul posted directly to his Facebook because, well, he said that he didn’t give a flying fuck who knew how dedicated he was to defending the planet and her people.
The night ran long. It’s a little strange to celebrate the arrest of eight friends, but the day had been a success. The adrenaline pumping through camp would not disperse with the crowd, afterparties could be heard throughout the night, recounts of the event were exaggerated only marginally. Miles and Paul sat in silence as they stared down at the abandoned crime scene, all gassed up and ready to try again tomorrow.
Miles wondered if it could have all been a setup. If the other side knew what was in store and let it happen, assessing the competition and confiscating eight warriors, and maybe even flushing two tree rats from their nest in the process. And now they had barricades in place, no more rushing offsides to delay the game, and how long could they last up there without food anyway?
Two weeks.
Better try to get some sleep.