Charred Wood

Fire is not a luxury that belongs to my generation. Once oxygen became a scarcity, any activity that sucked those precious atoms out of our atmosphere was forbidden. Lighting a fire has been punishable by death for years. Redundant really, as there is nothing left to burn, no trees, no grass, nothing.

“Are you ready, lieutenants?” Captain Raynor breaks my train of thought. His voice, normally booming at us during training, sounds infinitesimal in the vast hall, hollow echoes bouncing off the steel and glass surrounding us.

We nod. The atmosphere in the hall is electric, all eyes on the priest who has arrived to perform the rituals. He holds the small velvet box in front of him, his cassock billowing out, softening the hard edges in his vicinity.

My hands shake so I hide them in the pockets of my uniform. Now that the priest is here, there is no going back. I swallow, the voices in my head growing louder. “You’re too young, too inexperienced. Who cares you came top of your program. What do you think you’re doing?” I received maximum points in all disciplines except meteor shower calibration, which frankly still annoys me.

I look down at the chip embedded in the mound below my left thumb. 22.06.2296. Our mission date. The tiny holographic numbers twinkle at me. The date was selected several years ago. Calculated as the optimal for our journey out past the galaxy but also the most auspicious in accordance with the old pagan rites we still revere. Summer solstice 2296. The longest day of the year sending us off on our search for a new and better habitat.

With a solemn sweep of the hand the priest opens the velvet box. I know what is inside. A small piece of beech wood, saved from the last trees before they died. They have been preserved over decades for occasions such as this one. Captain Raynor told us this is the last remaining piece.

As the priest holds the chemically prepared wick close to the precious wood, small sparks fly. A faint curl of smoke rises. It’s the closest thing we will ever get to a real fire. I have read about the bonfires people used to light to celebrate summer solstice. Huge burning mounds, fierce flames reaching far up in the sky. All to honour the abundance of life and fertility. Now we don’t need to mark the middle of summer anymore. It is hot all year round. Abundance of life on the other hand, that’s a problem.

The priest passes round the glowing wood in a small fireproof bowl. We bow to it. A whiff of smoke reaches my nostrils. Sharp, acrid but too faint to do any harm. To think people could light fire anytime they wanted, never having to worry about the oxygen they needed to breathe. 

We head to the ship. Once strapped in, I receive the small piece of charred wood, now wrapped in a simple velvet cloth. A talisman for our journey. I can still feel the warmth of the wood seeping through to my fingers. The last touch of nature before we head out into the unknown.

Inspired by the rituals for Summer Solstice and a future where humans must adapt to climate change.