Plastic Soldier
by Irene Iris
The crisis of the 2030s changed it all. Oil was no longer extracted from the depths of the earth. It had nothing to do with the depletion. Something else superseded it. It was the Plastic Revolution.
The amount of plastic production – and disposal – reached a critical point of no return. The problem had to be solved by eliminating its root cause. And plastic was rooted in oil…
Under the pressure of the worldwide environmental movement, a new global Law was issued that prohibited oil and its derivatives. No more plastic produced. No more petrol-fueled combustion engines in cars.
The Great Economic War erupted. The nation-states could no longer exist as separate geopolitical actors. To avoid a collapse, a new international entity was formed, meant to control the newly emerged, one, truly global economy.
The world of 2053 was dreamed to be the Paradise on Earth. Yet, it was still a Purgatory.
Chapter 1
Theo’s world could be defined by a one-room apartment in the service quarters, a black cotton uniform, and a mobile device that buzzed any time of day or night. This buzz meant a new “call”. Like now, at 2AM.
The man’s hand reached for the shiny metal object that emitted the buzz and looked like a pen, shook it once, and the object self-unfolded into a rectangular frame. A hologram emerged inside it, showing the coded message with coordinates.
All the calls started the same. Theo and his squad stood in front of the closed doors of an apartment they were meant to invade. Each squad Leader had a universal key. Theo hated this key card for being made of the artificial material he despised most in the anthropogenic world. Yet, this piece could open all the doors for him, so it was a necessity.
After the Revolution and the unification of the global standards of life, new Laws were enacted to help maintain the control over the global citizens. One of such Laws gave the soldiers of the Seizure Squads the right to enter private property upon a – usually anonymous – report on the “suspected possession”. Such reports came predominantly from neighbors and were highly appreciated by the authority. They helped keep the crime monitored and tamed.
Theo sighed and beeped the electronic lock on the door open.
Once inside, the squad turned all the lights on, unveiling the scene with two frightened adults and a kid huddling in one bed. While the trained eyes of all the squad members scanned the space for the signs of crime, and their hands were swiftly turning the apartment upside down in active search, Theo was the fastest to register the object of interest. His eyes narrowed.
Shit.
This is the type of the insurgence Theo hated most – with a child as a criminal.
The boy’s hands were clinging to an object. This object was the single reason for all the havoc.
Theo approached the child, face neutral, and extended his arm. His fingers flexed in an unmistakable “give it to me” gesture. When the boy did not obey, Theo boldly grasped the object, yanking the stubborn clingy boy out of his between-parental shelter in bed.
The scene was eerie in its absurdity. An adult in uniform engaged in a tug-of-war with a child. The object of mutual interest was a little khaki-green plastic soldier.
“Sir, please, this is the toy my son has got as a legacy from his great-grandfather!” pleaded the mother.
For a long second, Theo fixated his gaze on the naturalistic soldier figurine. It was old. About seventy or eighty years old. An imitation of the soldier of the past war unknown to Theo. Yet, strangely, Theo recognized himself in this little plastic fella. He, Theo, was a soldier of sorts. A soldier in the human war against plastic. Theo knew, behind their backs, his squad was called the “plastic soldiers”. Ironic.
According to the protocol, the personal data of the boy and his family would be entered into the database. The plastic item would be confiscated. The little soldier was kept hostage and now became the property of the Seizure Squad.
“It’s just a toy,” the mother snapped defensively, looking at Theo when he was leaving.
“Plastic is not a game, ma’am,” retorted Theo, gravely serious.
The squad members called their Leader’s philosophy “THEOlogy”. Almost like the preaching of the new age. The age without plastic. Of course, it was still far until that end. Humankind was still busy cleaning the mess the ancestors had left them. The illegal plastic production was still existent. The Great Pacific Vortex was not entirely cleaned up. Plastic waste was not yet bio-degraded. Not all plastic toy soldiers were confiscated. Still much work to do.
It was a strange new world – a world full of old things. Among those were the cars. The car manufacturing was affected severely during the Oil Crisis and the Plastic Revolution. Under the new Law, the cars could no longer exist. At least not in their usual configuration. No one planned such a radical change – it was a mere side effect. Since the era of petroleum and diesel internal combustion engines was over, all the billions of cars that had been produced before became outlaws.
For this problem, a solution was found, though. The fuel tanks and motors of the old new cars were modernized to become capable of processing biofuels. Yet, it did not exhaust the problem. While the already manufactured cars could be upgraded, the new ones could no longer be produced. And the reason was plastic. Innumerous details in the 21st-century cars were made of plastic. Control panel cover, synthetic belts, even rubber wheels – all were forms of plastic or petroleum derivatives.
The Law put a fifty-year moratorium on the production of new cars altogether. As a result, two types of old cars were now in use: the retro cars with reconceptualized engines, and the electric ones, for they were manufactured before the Law enactment and were more or less in line with the green transport philosophy. It was a solution to the oil crisis, plastic production, and the CO2 pollution all in one.
In the world of old cars and retro old cars, Theo possessed the latter. After the call, as his squad packed themselves into a Tesla Hammer, he jumped into his black Jaguar XK 120 GM (“gm” stood for “green modification”). It took much effort to maintain that car of his, yet it was worth it.
Ensconced inside his little shelter on the wheels, Theo sighed and relaxed. His eyes located a book on the control panel. It was Fahrenheit 451. Like his car, this paper book was barely holding in one piece, yet Theo loved it.
The man associated himself strongly with Fahrenheit’s main character. Yet, unlike Montag, he believed he was doing the right thing. He regretted he could not burn plastic right away, the way Montag was burning books. For starters, it would be inefficient (everyone knows what happens when plastic burns). For last things, liquid hot plastic was even more dangerous than the inert one. So, confiscation it is.
Theo thought of the plastic soldier in his pocket. He was expected to bring it to the storage, from where the piece would be redirected to the processing plant and then – the ultimate, disintegration facility.
The fuel tank showed low, so the man had to do a U-drive for the BioStation.
The Station lay by the road and did not differ much from its predecessor – the petrol one. It also had cisterns buried under the ground and filling units, but all were stuffed with biofuels of all possible types.
“Nice babe!”
These words snatched Theo from his thoughts, as he put the fuel gun into the side of his car. He turned his head and saw a man in a classic Tesla.
“You are a retro lover. Hmm…” mused the man. “So what do you feed it? Bananas?”
“Algae,” replied Theo, trying to be polite. He understood the allusion to DeLorean and Mr. Fusion.
“I prefer electric. Kinda more elegant. Hey, have you ever thought, what would the world be like if the car evolution took the initially planned turn?”
“The car evolution?” Theo was not quite following.
“Well, the first cars ever were originally electric. Their heyday was around the 1900s. And then, around the 1920s, mankind stepped on the slippery oily path of gas-powered engines. It started the oil era. It started the era of global warming. It started the end. And now imagine the other way ‘round…”
Even though Theo did not like the man who talked too much, those words did get at him. Indeed, what would the world look like if the car evolution took the right turn?..
By the time Theo opened his mouth for a reply, the man in Tesla was already on the highway. Theo sighed, moved Fahrenheit to the side, so that it did not mess with the augmented reality projected onto the car’s windshield, and pressed the accelerator pedal to the floor. Time to go home.
Chapter 2
All the time that he did not spend in the company quarters, where he worked and lived, Theo passed in the apartment of his girlfriend, Nova.
Nova was an ecologist and volunteer working at the Great Pacific Vortex. It was a job afloat, amidst the endless waters and seemingly endless trash.
The gigantic plastic gyre in the Pacific Ocean became the focus of the major environmental effort of the last two decades.
Nova’s base was made of the compound of ships and floating “containers” for scientists, researchers, and veterinarians. The joint effort of all these folks was needed so badly, yet the cooperation was exhausting. The ocean cleaning company sent the garbage tankers to extract the non-biodegradable parts from the water column. Smaller mobile units were filtering the microplastic particles. Eventually, the environmentalists swooped in, because in the course of decades, the trash became home to many species, and simply combing the garbage out of the water would mean killing them, too. In addition, the rescue teams for wildlife were dealing with those representatives of fauna who got tangled, stranded, or choked by the things that were once the items of everyday use in the human world. The operations were carried right at one of the buoyant hospitals. Floating madness, Nova used to reflect on her job.
When Theo opened the door with his universal key card, he found Nova lying in bed, curled around her pet. The scene was unusual. Maybe it’s because the woman he loved was hugging a turtle. She rescued this one during the previous mission. Or maybe it’s because the turtle’s looks were twisted. Naturally, a turtle’s shell is supposed to be oval. Yet, in this one, it had the shape of an 8. The anomaly was caused by the fact that, when still being tiny, this turt swam into the plastic ring from some “goods” humans once consumed. The turtle was growing, and the plastic was not. It did not flex or expand. The poor animal’s body had to adapt. A fast and forced evolution. The result of it was life-threatening and heart-breaking. Even now, Theo cringed when he saw the turtle. It was something he could not get used to. He even caught himself thinking that he hated that plastic ring even more than his key card.
Theo put his bag under the bed and his body – on the bed. It cost the man some effort, as he had to fight for the spot near his girlfriend. Damn, these turtles are heavy!
Nova opened one eye from sweet dozing and smiled with the corner of her mouth.
“Don’t even waste your energy on Plastic Waist,” she said and closed her eye again.
Plastic Waist was the turtle’s name. It was a self-evident pun.
Theo snorted and rolled onto his woman. Nova exploded with laughter and could no longer inhale, as her lover’s weight crushed her lungs.
Even being pushed on the side by two adjoined bodies, Waist did not move an inch. So the couple had little choice other than tumbling on the floor, together.
After a passionate reunion, Theo rolled to the cold part of the floor. Nova sat on the bed’s edge and tidied her hair. When she was putting the comb down, her fingers touched an object that was hidden among the beauty items. Theo’s sharp eye noticed it even from his vantage point.
“It’s illegal, you know,” said Theo calmly.
“So you told me. A dozen times,” replied Nova, not touched by the warning.
She would never give away her criminal item – a yellow plastic duck. A bath toy from the era before the Revolution. She fished it out of the Vortex. Nova called it Moby Duck. The name was coined by Donovan Hohn, the author of the self-titled book.
“This toy means a lot to you,” Theo stated rather than asked.
“Not the toy – what it symbolizes. The story it tells,” Nova took the Duck from the bedside table and cradled it in her hands as if it were the most treasured thing in the world. “This story began a long time ago, in the year 1992. A ship carried a container with around 30,000 yellow plastic ducks. The ship got into a storm, and the ducks were washed out into the ocean. Around 20,000 ducks reached the shores of South America, Indonesia and even Australia. Others were found months later in the North Atlantic ice. About 10,000 of the poor duckies got into the Pacific Vortex and got stuck in it. Up until nowadays, most of them keep swirling around in the ocean of garbage. Unable to break free. You know, this duck’s story reminds me of the story of humankind.”
Nova and Theo exchanged meaningful looks.
The woman looked at Waist and sighed.
“My first instinct was to save him by cutting the fucking plastic cord as soon as possible. But that would have killed him. His entire body got used to living strangled. His internal organs shifted and stretched. His shell deformed. He needs an operation. And he also needs a stretchy bandage that I will have to loosen bit by bit to give his poor body the time to adjust to the unlimited, normal life. Operation is scheduled for tomorrow. And now she needs to be back in her water tank, so I expect you to help me carry her there,” the girl smiled crookedly and winked at Theo.
“Plastic confiscation at work, heavy lifting of plastic victims in leisure time. Sure…” Theo chuckled bitterly.
Nova looked at her man. “Plastic is a way of life, Theo, whether you like it or not. There is no quick remedy. No overnight evolution.”
“That’s why I keep confiscating plastic items from people’s use, and you keep extracting plastic trash from the Vortex. Bit by bit.”
Theo reached out for his cotton uniform (synthetics were outlaws now) that was scattered all around him. His hand dived into the pocket. The next moment, Nova’s Moby Duck got company. Now it was guarded by the khaki plastic soldier.
“It’s illegal, you know,” commented Nova ironically.
“I know. It is here to remind me who I am. And what I am. What I am made of.”
Chapter 3
The working week started, again. Theo was in the quarters. A new call came first thing in the morning.
With his entire team in the Hammer behind, Theo drove into the sunrise. Against the backdrop of the sky awaking with all colors of daylight, the giants of the wind turbines stood proudly. The early testimonies of humankind’s intention to shift to renewable sources of energy. There were many fields like this around all the countries of the Global Economy. Some were “planted” with the wind turbines, others were “growing” the solar panels. Before the Revolution, people were using these fields for sunflowers or corn. Now, they were harvesting the raw energy of nature.
The sector to which Theo was called resided on the infertile grounds. It was unofficially called the Degraded Lands. It once belonged to the petroleum magnate who built a plant and surrounded it with oil pumps. No one had come here for decades. So when Theo arrived at the assigned coordinates, he was shock-struck. The land that was supposed to be deserted was, in fact, inhabited by tons of people… and plastic!
Theo got out of his Jaguar as if in trance. His men soon joined their Leader, moving as if in slow motion. Some took off their sunglasses. Others opened their mouths yet could not speak.
“Holy humanity,” finally dropped one of the plastic soldiers.
The scene was grand in its impossibility. Under and among the dead oil pumps frozen in time and dysfunction, an entire human city was standing. Single-floor units of a free construction type counted hundreds if not thousands. They were surprisingly colorful and eye-catching.
Theo came to the first dwelling and touched it, as if to make sure he was not hallucinating. The dwelling was real, and it felt like plastic. Theo’s face twisted as his mind registered the disposed plastic objects in the multicolor of the construction.
Suddenly, a man emerged from the plastic castle right in front of Theo.
Disturbed by the sound of modified bio-motors, more people started coming out of their homes.
“Leader, waiting for your commands,” said one of the soldiers standing behind Theo.
Wordless, Theo locked gazes with the “homeless” man in front of him for a long minute.
A city of plastic was not one of the protocol situations.
“Leader, -”
“What do you want me to say… or do?!” boomed Theo to everyone’s surprise. “Confiscate from all these people their HOMES?!!”
Yes, you take away toys from kids and homes from the homeless, Theo thought to himself.
Such an emotional outburst was followed by absolute silence. The team had never seen their Leader in such a state.
The raided people were waiting for the verdict, also silently.
Theo clenched his teeth. He had no choice.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a voice so low and quiet that only the man in front of him could hear.
The homeless man closed his eyes, his head dropped helplessly to his chest.
Then, Theo turned to his men and said absent-mindedly.
“Call for backup. We need more people… and garbage trucks…”
The team nodded as one. The member responsible made a call. Others extracted stun guns and kept them ready.
“By the name of the Law, all the plastic items will be confiscated. Your identities will be entered into the database of violators…”
Theo was saying these words in a loud yet calm and automatic voice, like he was trained to. But he did not even listen to himself. His mind was deep in the problem that he was called to solve.
By the evening, the place was cleaned of plastic huts. All that remained were scattered legal possessions that were lying on the ground like trash. The hysterically crying people with no identities to register were running around or crawling on their knees trying to save whatever remained from their lives.
Theo stood amidst all this chaos, his stare blank. Suddenly, a young woman threw herself at him. One of the plastic soldiers reacted by trying to stun-shoot her, but Theo was fast enough to put out his arm and stop his teammate. The next moment, the woman was already clinging to Theo’s nice cotton uniform’s collar, her fingers white from helpless rage.
“Who gave you the right to take away our lives?!!” the woman was yelling.
“It’s illegal to possess plastic-” started Theo, but the woman cut him short.
“You think we would not want to live in real houses made of good materials? Wood is banned because it presupposes cutting down trees. Synthetic materials are all prohibited because they are made from crude oil or dangerous chemical compounds. The new allowed building materials or the recycled old natural ones are too expensive for us to buy! What do you expect us to make our homes out of – thin air?!!”
After these words, the woman dropped unconscious at Theo’s feet. The man frowned and looked at another team member with a gun still raised.
“It was not necessary!” Theo said, dissatisfied with his subordinate ignoring his order.
“She was a threat,” said the soldier plainly.
Theo stepped over the woman and moved to the last truck full of the building blocks of this once-city. His eyes narrowed. Another teammate came to join him.
“Where did they get all this trash from?” Theo asked no one in particular.
“Scavenging the remaining dumpsters,” suggested the subordinate soldier, not quite getting Theo’s query.
“This plastic trash is in compressed blocks,” said Theo, looking at the truck’s contents and not his man.
“So?”
“So it implies the trash came from the processing plant, where the plastic waste is pre-processed by compression before it gets to recycling and disintegration.”
“Ok, so what, these outlaws robbed a processing plant? Is that what you are saying?” the soldier was confused about all this interest his Leader was putting into trash.
“All I’m saying is that it is not possible that they just came to the plant that is a few kilometers away and dragged all these trash blocks here. By hand? Not possible,” Theo finally turned away and took a look at the site. “Someone helped them. Someone from the plant.”
Having said that, Theo jumped into his Jaguar. From his driver’s seat, he yelled through the open window:
“Get in the car and follow me!”
“Where to?”
“The plastic processing plant.”
“But we had no call-”
“Move! It’s an order!” barked Theo and accelerated away, a cloud of dust billowing behind his car.
Something is not right in this plastic-damned world…
Chapter 4
Theo aimed to trace how instead of elimination so much plastic was smuggled to the Degraded Lands. What he was going to do was illegal. He had no authority unless backed up by a “call.” He also risked compromising the entire team, yet he did not care. He sensed he had unveiled a bigger scheme.
The Jaguar was standing at the gate to the plant. Two Hammers were lingering behind. Theo could only hope that his universal key card would do the job. He took a deep breath and pressed the card to the scanner. To his relief, the gate beeped open.
The car procession followed through the gate and up to the main compound. Then – everything according to the procedure. After all, the plant management did not know the soldiers had no order – it was unthinkable.
In half an hour, Theo already had access to the data on the movement of trash in, inside, and out of the plant. In a few minutes more, he was facing the man responsible for the inconsistencies. Theo had a keen eye. He knew the man was guilty – he was holding like a criminal or rebel in disguise. Theo was barely withholding himself from slapping that chuckle off the man’s face.
“I want to know just one thing,” said Theo, “Why?”
This moment, the criminal’s face changed. He obviously did not expect that question within the framework of a typical interrogation. It was a personal, human question. The man looked deep into Theo’s eyes and replied:
“For those people, there is not much choice. The Law already deprived them of their apartments and houses, as well as the chances to have or build them whatsoever. So now, they either live under the sky, or seek shelter in plastic. If you think of it, it is also a kind of recycling – it is reuse. They need help, and I’m the one who can make a difference for them.”
“So you think it justifies snatching plastic out of the processing cycle and returning it back into the environment?” Theo sounded more judgmental than he would want to.
“The cycle?” the man laughed hard. “Oh please. Like you don’t know what the cycle really is.”
Theo’s face was blank.
The man looked at him and sat back in his chair.
“You don’t know,” the man said, realizing Theo’s limited worldview. “Ok. Then I will ask you: What do you think happens to the plastic after it is extracted from the environmental dumpsters or daily life and compressed here?”
“It is carried to the units that disintegrate it,” answered Theo, not quite sure how anyone could NOT know it – it was the basic knowledge children learned at schools.
“Do you know how to disintegrate plastic? Into what does it turn? Matter cannot transform into nothing – it’s the law of physics, and the law of physics cannot be cancelled by your Law!” said the man and shook his head at Theo’s alleged ignorance in this issue. “You are a soldier, and you don’t even know what you are fighting for!”
These words were like a slap in the face. Theo had enough of it.
“Arrest him and bring him to the headquarters jail,” ordered Theo, indifference coming back to his voice.
“Oh, so now you will put me into a plastic jail,” commented the criminal and started laughing like crazy.
“Plastic jail?” echoed Theo. “What does that suppose to mean?”
“I have one last question for you,” said the man while being handcuffed and dragged from the chair.
“You are not the one to ask questions here,” snapped Theo, turning away. “It’s my prerogative.”
“Then ask yourself: What are your middle-class living and working compounds made of, in the world where building materials cost like gold?” the man was already out of the door frame, his voice bouncing off the corridor walls and ceiling.
“The new, eco-friendly synthetic material,” answered Theo automatically, to no one in particular.
“And what is this new material made from?” was the last thing the man could say before he was immobilized by a stun gun.
“Are you coming, Leader?” Theo heard these words and realized that he got lost in thought for a good minute and did not even notice how everyone was already out and packed to go.
“Yes,” Theo said, still sounding lost.
Chapter 5
On his way to the headquarters, Theo was barely looking at the road. He was obsessed with reading through the windshield-projected specifications in a governmental report on the material from which most of post-Revolution edifices were made. While the augmented reality and cruise control assisted in navigating the car, his mind was navigating the textual data and chemical formulas. What Theo found out made him brake hard right amidst the highway, overriding autopilot and nearly causing a major chain-reaction crash.
Feeling something like a panic attack, Theo hurried to loosen his collar.
Damn! That man from the processing plant was right!
Squeezing the wheel with both hands, Theo gazed at the document section pertaining to the durability of the new material. 300 years. Three hundred! Back then, it sounded like a salvation – building apartments and houses that would stand for hundreds of years. No need for renovation. And this material was cheap, in comparison to the pre-Revolution reused (PRR) or new natural allowed (NNA) materials. Yet, somehow, in the collective euphoria, no one cared to ask the right question: Where did this new cheap material come from?
Back at the quarters, in his room, Theo was sitting and looking at the walls with suspicion and even disgust. The walls crowded him. He no longer felt like he was doing the right thing, fighting for the right cause. He just felt crushed.
A familiar buzz claimed Theo’s attention. A new call. This time, to the polar opposite end of the social hierarchy – The Green Zone.
The Green Zone was named after the concept of eco-friendly existence. Yet, it soon stopped being a definitive word for a life with a minimum ecological footprint and became a synonym for the elite life. The best zones on the planet – those not contaminated by toxic or plastic waste – were soon populated by the representatives of the global society who could afford the best of life possible. The best of parks, gardens, beach lines, and mountains with clean crisp air – all of those became the Green Zones behind high fences. One needed a pass to enter. As always, Theo’s plastic card did its magic.
“So who is our target?” when out of the car, Theo asked one of his men.
“He’s not a target, Leader. He’s a victim,” replied the man, surprised that Theo had not studied the case materials on the go.
“A victim? Was he, what, attacked by plastic?” Theo tried nonchalant humor, but it hardly worked. No one smiled.
“No. But he suffered through damage caused by plastic. Health and wellbeing compromised,” reported the soldier and shrugged.
Theo frowned. Now that’s interesting.
In a few minutes, the entire team was standing in a luxury restaurant with a transparent glass floor, a hundred meters above the natural crevice. In front of them, by a table covered with the best of natural fabrics, that to Theo looked like silk – the material forbidden, since its making presupposed mortification of the worms via boiling them alive in their cocoons – a man was seated. He was holding a pack of ice pressed to his cheek.
“Good day, Sir. May I please know your concern?” asked Theo politely, according to the protocol.
“Concern? I broke my tooth on that piece of shit!” mumbled the man angrily, pointing at a little old-style wooden bowl filled with salt.
Theo narrowed his eyes. Evidently, by a piece of “shit” the man meant a piece of plastic. In his table salt.
The next thing the man did was shove a tiny opaque-white roundish pellet into Theo’s palm.
“There. Your evidence,” said the man through his gritted, hurting teeth.
Theo took the pellet between his two fingers, brought it closer to his eyes, and squinted.
The food chain became a looped cycle, where even the rich now eat their own plastic waste.
Theo shook his head.
“What do you need us for, Sir?” asked Theo.
“What a stupid question!” fumed the man. “Do your job! Confiscate the plastic!”
Theo and his men exchanged quizzical looks. The Leader was the first to act. He demonstratively took the plastic pellet along with the salt bowl off the table and put both into an evidence bag.
“I would like to file a complaint with a demand for material and moral compensation!” blabbered the man, still pressing ice to his face.
And while the victim of plastic terrorism was filling the administrative form – silently – Theo replayed a silly childhood chant in his head: “You reap what you sow, you eat what you throw”… Indeed.
Chapter 6
“I still cannot believe you’ve bought the Degraded Lands!” said Nova, hugging her man from behind and looking at the scene over his shoulder. “After all these years of saving money for a dream house in the Green Zone…”
“Yeah… Always wanted to have rusty pumpjacks instead of gnomes in my backyard.”
Nova laughed sincerely and kissed Theo on the cheek.
The Degraded Lands were shape-shifting in the light of the setting sun. It looked like what had happened to them recently – all the bulldozers and the demolition – was replayed backwards. The story of this land was being re-written. The site was now full of big machines laying blocks of the matted material the color of ashes. Ashes of the old plastic in a resurrected body. The truth never told to people, mostly because people never asked. But Theo knew. He was observing, with a great degree of satisfaction, how those stockpiled blocks were already taking shape of new buildings. The silhouettes of the time-frozen oil pumps in the backdrop held the secret of the sad and sinful petroleum past, while the fast-growing living quarters held the promise of a better, fairer future…
“It is illegal, you know,” said Nova, giggling.
“Oh, it is legal. That’s the point. I am giving these people their homes back. But this time, they are made of “legal” plastic. These homes no one will confiscate. And no one will evict all those people. They are on private land now. My land.”
Theo kissed Nova on the forehead and smiled a bitter smile. He could not win the war against plastic, nor against the system. But he could outsmart both.
Theo was still a plastic soldier, but this time plastic was not his enemy – it was his weapon. There was no sense in trying to exterminate something as durable as plastic. Plastic won’t go anywhere. It will stay with humanity for the time being. Plastic is the new, man-made ‘species’, and all people can do now is find a way to coexist – with it, as well as with one another.
Copyright ©️ 2024 Iryna Dihtiarova-Deslypper. All rights reserved.
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