You Forgot 'What If?' (Solarpunk Protopia Fiction)

Part 10: The Garden of Evan

I watched Sinclair's gaze travel around the gardens, up the towers and down, across the gardens, around twisting archwards of woven fruit trees, then back up and down again. His eyes lingered on some spots, peering and studying. There were certainly a number of plants he didn't recognize, and was trying to figure out.

"Wow," he said quietly.

I smiled. I had already learned that Sinclair wasn't easily impressed, and if he was impressed, he didn't show it. This time, the hush in his voice told me enough. It was the kind of voice I used for a museum masterpiece, though I didn't dare hope for that kind of reverence from him.  

"Are these..." He must've noticed the daisies climbing up the towers and roses winding around the fruit trees "these aren't all edible."

"Some are decorative." I started forward, and gestured for him to follow. "Most are edible. Some are both."

Sinclair followed. "I'll have to get a photographer up here," he muttered, almost to himself, as he looked around at the lush plants filling the space.

"We have plenty of pictures. I can send some to you."

"Sure. Yeah." Mouth open, he looked up at the archway just ahead of us, made of interwoven fruit branches and vines. Pale yellow marula fruit, red-orange tamarillos, bright orange tangerines, and rich green limes hung from the archway. A breeze rustled the leaves as we walked underneath the arch, filling the air with a spicy-sweet scent.

Sinclair slowed, studying the interwoven branches. Their branches had been carefully pruned, shaped, and guided to twist around each other like interlocking threads on a delicate lace pattern, supporting and protecting each other. "These are fruit trees," he observed.

"You bet. We grow their branches like that so they make these nice archways, and so they're not so susceptible to the wind. And, you have to admit, they look really pretty."

"Hm," he grunted, his unimpressed facade returning. "I admit, some of these I don't recognize." He reached slowly for his notebook again, though he hadn't looked away from the trees arching over him.

"A lot of people wouldn't recognize a lot of the plants here. Our rooftop gardens grow fruits and vegetables and herbs and flowers from all over the world. Some are even new breeds!" I pulled a tangerine gently off a branch and tossed it to Sinclair. "This is just a regular tangerine, though. Give it a try."

Shrugging, he stowed his notebook again and peeled the fruit. As he took a slice, I watched his expression. With one bite, his eyebrows shot up. "Wow," he said, almost involuntarily, for the second time.

I smiled. "We get that a lot. Most fruits and vegetables nowadays are selectively bred for size, hardiness, things like that. And they're grown over and over again, on the same soil. With more variety, a little more care, a little more attention to flavor, our stuff really is different."

He nodded, popping two more slices into his mouth. "It's good."

I kept walking, and gestured up towards the top of the horn-shaped pillars. "These collect rainwater and filter it to the gardens, and to the rest of the tower," I explained. "We also take some water up from the ground. None of this is accidental, and we've had some trial and error to make it really work. We have some water storage in the towers and underground, but we also plan for the water to make its way back to the soil, back to the ground, when it can. This distribution, and the big-time vegetation regrowth of the surrounding area, has pretty much stopped the flooding problems that used to devastate this area years ago."

Sinclair was scribbling again. "Does every tower have these?"

"That's right. And," as we neared the edge of the roof, I pointed to a line of thin, tall tubes standing sentinel at the edges "these are wind power generators. They're completely bladeless, and use vorticity to generate power." As the wind passed over the roof, it passed over the lines of tubular wind power generators, creating small vortexes in each one.

"Ah, okay, yeah." Sinclair nodded. "I've heard of these."

"Wind power is great, but some of these large-scale wind power generators can be 100 tons, you know? Some of these blades are the size of a city block. They're enormous. That's great for some applications, but we couldn't really use those here. These," I pointed to the lightly rattling and whistling tubes "are perfect. They're much cheaper, there's no gearboxes or bearings, a lot of the materials are recycled and repurposed, and they're easy to repair. Larger wind power generators harness about 80 or 90% of kinetic energy, and these harness about 70%. So, still pretty good."

"Vorticity," Sinclair mused, scribbling in his notebook.

"These little tubes are all over. We've monitored wind movement through and around the towers, and placed them where the winds are most steady. That, with the solar panels, and some other renewables--thermoelectric power generation from compost, wave power from the coast--completely powers The Sink. Most days, we send tons of clean power back to the grid, too."

"That's impressive." Sinclair nodded, writing.

"It is." Turning, I noticed the cafe on the corner of the roof was quiet. "I'd love to tell you more. Do you wanna get some tea or kombucha and have a sit?" I gestured towards the cafe. "You can try some more of the foods gathered from the Bean garden, too."

Sinclair looked up, and followed my gesture to the serene cafe, nestled under a dome of vines and fruit tree branches.. "Oh. Um, sure. All right."

I noticed his hesitation. "Are you in a hurry? We've got plenty of time."

"Yeah," he agreed, though he still seemed hesitant. He stowed the notebook again. "I guess there is."

"Come on." I waved a hand for him to follow. I got the feeling Sinclair found it difficult to relax unless he had designated time especially for it. Probably during his designated relaxing time, too. But The Sink was a good remedy for that.