36
Theme music ripped over the airwaves. The fossils were busy all night stepping on the camp’s channel, so Bill just jammed it with who else but Steve Miller.
“It’s time to fly like an eagle, baby,” interrupted the dj.
They weren’t even gonna wait long enough to setup a chapter, sunup was the signal, but our boys were ready. Each tree had a two foot platform above the anchor point, just enough room to get comfortable, which was important, for Miles at least. They shared a quick, but heart rocking hug, and clipped their carabiners into the secondary anchor straps, just a few wraps of webbing with a water knot, it’ll hold. With uncounted unison, they pulled the ripcord on their quick releases, and their home fell toward the debarbed poo pole.
They were on their own from this point, the climbers were halfway through the razor wire already, they’d come prepared for nonsense. Miles pulled his lockdown pipe from the gear bag, and the refitted motorcycle helmet, and a red bandana, and a pair of aviators, helluva disguise. He masked up and locked the reinforced strap tight against his chin, slid the restraint through the tree’s fork, and waited for the calvary.
He took a moment to check in on Paul’s progress, he was way up there, had to be another forty feet, at least. Paul said that he actually was afraid of heights, terrified really, but that’s why it was so fun, the rush of the thrill, and the accomplishment of conquering personal barriers. Somehow he managed to string his hammock up between two skinny skyward branches, and then wiggled into it. Fucking nuts, man.
He clipped into his hammock, but he was tied in from the inside, so there was no way to know. Even once someone made it up that far, it would take a delicate operation to extract him safely. Maybe some of the ground troops wouldn’t mind so much if he bumped his head, on the ground, but this wasn’t TreeForce’s fight, they were more in the business of saving cats and stuff, they’d want to deliver the prize in one piece.
How would they even do it? Couldn’t really get to his body without cutting through the hammock, and that doesn’t sound like a very good idea. Couldn’t lower one side before the other, else the burrito’s filling would splatter on the floor. Couldn’t really get under him close enough to do anything, and these twigs were paper thin. The guess was that two lightweight pole climbers would risk limb and slowly lower both ends in tandem. I told you, fucking nuts.
He had a few reserve provisions they’d managed to intentionally forget, plus a bag of that trail mix and a CamelBak of water, and he knew he was good to dry fast for at least four days, maybe more. But what about the other end of it?
No time to ponder that one, Miles had company. He looked like he mighta been the same guy from yesterday, probably just glad we quit talking about compostables. You could tell he was a little different than the infantry, he did spend his days in the trees, more search and rescue than search and destroy, but he was still on the team of trickle down authoritarianism. He was there for a paycheck, not conviction, and in some twisted reality that somehow made him the more responsible one.
There wasn’t really much he could do, Miles couldn’t stop resisting until a tree climbing steel sawyer showed up, the two skill sets often attract opposite statures, but a machine elf was on the way.
The guy was nice enough, especially to a thorn, and he actually seemed to acknowledge what Miles had to say. The faceshield of the helmet was glued shut to prevent a premature unveiling, but there were holes drilled through it for a breath of fresh repartee.
“So why you doing all this, man? I mean, you have pulled out some stops, it’s been quite a show to tell you the truth, but why put yourself through all this trouble? And get yourself into trouble? There’s some pretty upset people down there, you know, and they’re not laughing like you guys, and holy cow your buddy is way up there! Good luck getting that guy down.”
Miles thought it through as he tried not to squander the moment, “You know, I’ve actually had a lot of time to think about that lately, like a lot, and I keep coming back to the same thing. For a long time, I was lost in a world I’d lost belief in. I think most of us can agree that everything’s falling apart out there, even if we disagree on the specifics, and really there’s just so much that it gets too overwhelming to even think about. Crippling. A runaway train beyond anything anyone could do. So I did nothing, just gave up, didn’t even try to live my own life according to what I felt best for the world, because what was the point, nobody else was.
I used to have a real job out there, for my whole life until a few months ago, and it was even a job where I could help people, and see results sometimes. But I used to go home at night defeated by the grind of bureaucracy. I’d fall asleep wishing there was more I could do, even though society said that as long as I voted, I had done my part. And I’m sure plenty of others feel the same, would love to follow a passion and make the world beautiful, but it’s a struggle to survive out there, food and a roof don’t come cheap, sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do.
But I knew there had to be more to life than struggling to live. I felt in my heart that we were here for a purpose, that I was here for a purpose, and that purpose couldn’t be to sit around and wallow in the woes of a lost cause. We were meant to do, but I hadn’t done, which only made the self-depreciation worse.
Then I met someone who inspired me to embody the change I felt inside, convinced me that one person can impact the world, and ever since then, I’ve slept like a baby. Even up here with all that racket and the lights, I still rest soundly knowing that I’ve given everything I have to making the world a better place. We may not stop this pipeline, but we’ll know that we did all we could to defend our beliefs, not some CEO’s pension fund.”
“And you really think that oil is gonna destroy the world? You probably had to burn some to get here, didn’t you?”
“I believe it’s a part of it, yeah, but I think we have to change our entire way of life. I think we have to shed this assumed privilege that the world owes us something, and realize that we owe everything to the world. In this country, we swim in excess at the expense of those we exploit, and yet we want more, and we want it easy, and we want it now. It’s more important to us that we can flip a switch and watch TV on our fridge, than it is for two billion humans to have access to clean drinking water.
So yeah, oil is bad, it is responsible for all sorts of vile and nasty stuff, but nuclear is bad, coal is bad, natural gas is bad, child labor is bad, conflict powered cell phones are bad, extracting another country’s vitality so we can have strawberries in December is bad, and genocidal takeovers of preclaimed territory are bad too. It’s us that have to change, we’re the only ones that can prioritize the good of the world over what’s most convenient for ourselves, we’re the demand that the system is rigged to supply at all costs, and we’re the ones with the power to change the lightbulb.
And yeah, we used gas to get here, even if it was the only petroleum I’ve consumed in three months. But it’s not only about you driving your car less, it’s about all of us demanding that those driving our country, look out for the cliff ahead. We have technologies already available to reduce or eliminate our dependence on fossil fuels, they’ll say that they’re not financially feasible to implement, but then turn around and subsidize an extinct industry hundreds of billions. We have hybrid and electric cars already out there that get superior fuel efficiency, yet for some reason, the fuel companies think it more efficient to deregulate the assembly lines and keep on truckin.
But honestly, electric cars charged by a steam engine are no solution. And neither is the industrial manufacturing of solar panels, or mountaintop removal for wind farms, or clearcutting forests to burn biomass. Or any of the other workarounds, that require just as much devastation, in order to preserve the overconsumption of convenience that we simply can’t live without.
And most of this fracked tarsand oil is too dirty for cars anyway, it’s getting shipped to China to manufacture one time use plastics, disposable forks for a fast-food privilege that were made in a country known for its starving children. That’s what’s wrong with us, it’s just not the greedy corporations and their corrupted governments, we’re the ones that pay them, and we’re the ones that must decide that the fate of life on Earth is more important than the first-world problems of our Facebook feeds.
So to answer your first question, that’s why I’m here. I’ve been working on this three layered approach to activism, to being active in what I believe, which just sounds like common sense to anyone not brainwashed into believing that their actions don’t count.
The first step is on a personal level, shaping my own life from the ideals within it, it doesn’t matter what anybody else does, how can I expect to change anything else about the world until I’ve got my own path lined up? The next layer is something bigger than myself, a sacrifice of myself even, a focus of my energy onto a localized element of the greater scheme. And once I’m done here, maybe I’ll be ready to tackle phase three, the big picture, how can I affect the world in a big way? I know it’s possible, even for a teenager. Maybe I design an alternative dwelling that revolutionizes vagrancy, maybe I develop a system to provide an abundant food supply to the hungry, maybe I write a book about both.
And it’s not a task meant for completion. On all three fronts, the work to be done will require constant attention, but I think this is how I can give the most of myself back to the Earth. And her people. And the future of her children. My journey is one of learning to live in a good way as I stand up for all of humanity and the living planet we are a part of, which gives me the ultimate assurance that I am in the exact right place at the exact right time for this very moment, which only leaves me wondering about one thing.
Why are you here?”
Miles meant no offense, and none was taken, just a pause for reflection and a genuine response.
“Yeah, it’s like you say, we gotta work to provide for our families. And I want to work, want to contribute to society, and most of the time this job sends me home with the feeling that I helped better the world in some way. That’s why I got into it, at least.
And I want my kids to have a comfortable life, more than I did growing up, not to want for anything, though sometimes it would be nice if I got to spend more time with them. But that’s what being a provider is about, sacrificing some of myself for the benefit of my family, and I guess maybe that’s what you’re doing up here, huh?
So yeah, I’m here for the money, but that’s only because I’m here for my family. Honestly, I’d rather be fly fishing for their dinner, but you gotta do what you gotta do, and if I wasn’t doing it, then someone else would, so I figure it might as well be me.”
“Yeah, I get it,” empathized Miles. “What other choice have they left us in today’s working environment? You gotta fend for yourself, because no one else is fending for you, even if that means taking your share at the expense of another. And my parents did the same for me, made sure I had what I wanted, which never really made me content, just made me want more, and now I can see the back of the coin as there are human children who simply want for food and water, even in the wealthiest country in the world.
But what could anyone expect us to do about that? So you take care of your own, because they mean more to you than anything in the world, they mean more to you than the world itself. And with that line of reasoning, it now seems more than fair to sacrifice the health of an entire planet, for the love of your most precious family.
And I used to fall back on the whole, If I didn’t do it then somebody else would argument, especially in a world where it seems anybody will do anything for money. But now I understand that we all carry a personal responsibility to live for the greater good that is already alive in each of us, regardless of what anyone else is doing out there.
They’ve convinced us all to chase the right to exist. That basic survival is the end all, be all, of everything that is. But existence is meant to be a given, it’s meant to be free, and it’s meant to be a launching point to aim for the stars as humanity blooms into its greatest potential.
You’re different than a lot of the others though, I can tell, even sitting here talking to me takes a special kind of open mind. You at least understand how the system works, even if it’s still got a grip on your livelihood, and I’ll bet that as you keep figuring it all out, you’ll fall into that role that you were always kinda meant for.
And it’ll probably work out that you do get to spend more time with your kids, a life of passion is far more congruent with family life than some nine to five across town. And at least when they ask you about your day, you won’t have to tell them that you climbed a tree to forcibly remove a volunteer who was standing up for all of life on Earth, including theirs.”
“I did always want to open up a fishing camp for kids, get them hooked early and teach them how to eat what they catch.”
“And you didn’t because there’s no money in it.”
“Exactly.”
“And you could have spent everyday with your kids, doing what you love most.”
“Well, yeah.”
“And you’d have no doubt that you were making the world a better place, by following the passion in your heart, regardless of what anyone else had to say about it.”
“I guess so.”
“That’s a beautiful thing man, and I could even hear a change in your voice when you spoke from that place inside, and that’s where we’re meant to live from all the time, not just on the weekend as we save the rest for retirement. And listening to that call inside is what brought me here, and every minute has felt like that dream of yours, and no matter what happens next, I’ll know that I lived my life to its absolute fullest potential.”
“So what do you think is gonna happen next?”
“Well, I was kinda hoping you’d climb back down and tell them I decided to stay.”
“They’d love that one, huh?”
“I’d like to think so.”
“So what’s your backup plan? I know you got one floating around in that helmet of yours.”
“You know, I used to believe in a Plan B. Hell, we’re taught to put more energy into the preparation for failure, than it would have taken to succeed in whatever we were driven to do in the first place. Gotta make sure you have a solid fallback to make money, in case making a difference doesn’t work out. But how could you ever give anything your all, if you hedge half your life away for tomorrow? So screw Plan B, I’d rather focus on Plan A, and if it doesn’t work out how I imagined, then I’ll just get a new Plan A.”
“Well, you might better start working on that one, here comes Plan C.”
The cradle rocked as the industrial saw bobbed its way up the tree. This guy had less finesse to his ascent, but more personal pleasure in cutting loose the dead weight of society. He wanted to cut through Miles’ skin tight chin strap and pull a Scooby Doo, but bipartisan protest convinced him that removing a detainee’s safety equipment under such perilous conditions might void the warrantee, even if it was just some worthless scumbag. No matter though, he’d be on the ground and in a new set of cuffs soon enough.
He had to climb up above them to access the restraint, fiery sparks would be pouring from the incision, so he covered Miles with a flameproof welding blanket, turns out he was a humanitarian after all. Our first responder repositioned himself out of the golden shower and prepared to assist in the procedure, Miles was securely clipped in and armcuffed with nowhere to go, he was one parachute shy of a flight risk.
This part was actually not all that much fun. The giant saw shook the tree as it rattled every socket in Miles’ body, and it got hot, and it was too loud to even consider thinking about any bright ideas, let alone to share them.
He’d been cutting on it for an hour already, musta been, unless time was trickling as he approached a breakthrough. He pulled back the curtain to resituate the situation, looked like he’d done what he could on the top third without amputation, he wanted Miles to shift his stance.
If you thought yesterday’s trapeze act had drawn an enthusiastic crowd, you’d be quite astonished by the sea of support that echoed through the trees. The morning had roused the rebels with high wire exhilaration, then came a lull in the action as the plot thickened, but now act three had everyone on the edge of their platforms.
Miles found Bill in the commotion, but only because he knew where to look. He was at the base of his own tree, slowly lowering one of the tie lines to Paul’s. Miles took a motivated breath, and carefully slid his left hand out of the loop of aircraft cable that Bill had substituted for lock and key. He’d never even been locked down, but they had no way of knowing that, except maybe to tickle him.
He was concealed by the shroud, and should have enough window before the next reframing, just had to remain calm and deliberate, and hold the constraint steady as he made a break for it. With a few hundred CCs of epinephrine pulsing through his fingers.
He gently unclipped his safety strap from the tree, the saw overpowered the aluminum click of freefall and the thud of his amplified heartbeat, but forty feet and a razor wire landing almost overpowered Miles’ desire to walk away.
Paul’s tree was basically due north of Miles’, just three feet off, which put the loosened tie line a foot behind Miles’ head, and hopefully no more than two above. Miles couldn’t turn to check, but Bill put a red bandana across his face, which meant that he was ready. Was Miles?
He’d been tightly tethered against the tree, but the newly freed carabiner was also connected to a five foot piece of double dot webbing, a rabbit ear, and all he had to do was covertly pull his other hand free, throw off the blanket, share one last epic catch phrase, and take a one-eighty leap of faith that Bill’s zipline would clear the outer fence without a nose first finish. That’s all.
It had been fun and games as they’d been planning the hypothetical escape, and hypothetically it was gonna be Bill up here anyway, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Miles wondered if Bill was as nervous as he was, he hoped not.
It was now or now. He tried to free his right hand from its strap, couldn’t, the angle shift had put his wrist in a jam. The restraint was clamped to the tree, no way to spin it, but also meant it wouldn’t fall on anyone’s head.
“Hey, stop moving around down there.”
“Sorry.”
He took the interruption to reposition himself, gave it a minute to breathe, worked his fingers from their clutch and threw the blanket up and over the saw.
It took the adults a second to register what this idiot was doing next. First a disgusted glare of elementary stall tactics, then a look of mild terror as they realized he was going to jump, followed closely by the realization that he was going to successfully escape the impossible. Maybe. And they were tied in up above, too far out of reach to catch him. Miles was certain he saw the edge of a smile cross his new friend’s face.
“Toksa brother, til next time,” Miles hung his parting words as he reached for the finish line. “Good luck to you on your journey, it’s been good to know you, I’ll see you around,” as he clipped into his exit strategy. His kola returned a subtle nod of secret approval, as Miles convinced himself that it was his cue. He hesitantly moved to the edge as he shot our tough guy an unsolicited wave, and with no further delay, the treesit extraction was complete with a freefall farewell of, “Laatteerrr Suucckkeerrrrs!”
The ground troops only had a ten second notice that something was up, and before they knew it, he was down, just over their heads as they tried to understand what was happening. There were a couple dozen already across the barrier, only thirty feet from the wool blanket landing pad, but a wall of interlocked defenders stood strong against their fumble recovery. Threats and strong arms and eventually teargas cleared the air, the brigade broke through to the other side, ready to dogpile on the red flannelled motorcyclist.
There he was. No, there he was. WTF? They’d stumbled into a lumberjack biker convention of seventy choreographed costumes. He had to be here somewhere, but how could they identify the latest victim of mass identity theft? They’d have to detain them all and figure it out on the back end, but certainly they could force a confession from somebody, at least until they realized that all seventy were alibied by their own arrest record of peaceful surrender.
Miles knelt behind the doppelgangers. Bill unlocked his helmet and pulled the velcro free of his tear-away disguise. He dropped his harness and blended into the sidelines, still wary of a last minute informant, but as soon as the teargas exploded and sparked a stampede, Ambrose grabbed his arm and pulled him through the government subsidized smoke screen.
“C’mon brother, let’s get you the fuck outta here.”