The Life-Blood of the Land

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Earth had been a greenhouse, wrapped in dirty air that made dawn long and rosy. Not so this planet. Here, in the early morning, the home dome’s skylight let Mark see a square piece of pale, cloudless, bluish-green sky.

The new day highlighted the wrinkles on Evrett Reynolds’s face and hands. Ev cleared his throat. “Mark, you and your people are doing a good greening job here. But about this wild water chase of yours. Isn’t it time to give up?”

“No. It’s there, just deeper than we thought.” Reckless, Mark added, “I dreamed about it last night.”

A pained expression crossed Ev’s aged features. “You always were a dreamer.”

“So were you!”

“Not anymore,” Ev said. “I’ve got the whole godforsaken ecosphere to think about.”

When they left Earth, they had been the same age. Not anymore. Ev had been revived forty years ago, while Mark remained in the cold zone of the Starship, undreaming, unknowing and, for most practical purposes, dead. Ev had thrown himself into the work of the new world and climbed as far up as the ladder went. Ev became the World Director of Ecogenesis. And old. And unfamiliar.

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