Colby the Dreamer

Colby seeks to green up his life.

“Colby, you knucklehead, you’ve really done it this time.” The lonely farmer scolded himself as he sat beating his palm against his forehead. His feet shuffled along the dusty floor of his one room home. The thermostat read a hefty ninety-seven degrees thanks to the overbearing sun baking the tin roof of Colby’s humble shack. An air conditioning unit sat silent in the window.

Colby sat at a modest wooden table with a single wooden chair. The table’s top was pocked with scrapes and scratches from knives and fingernails. These were the visible representations of Colby’s frustration. The room contained more inelegant furnishings: a twin bed with tattered covers and only one lumpy pillow, a faded red love seat with matching recliner sitting around a small television, and a mahogany dresser missing two of its five drawers. An end table rested between the love seat and recliner; atop it sat a less than noble lamp. No light would shine if the drawstring were to be pulled.

Colby’s shack had a small kitchen area with hand-me-down appliances. The refrigerator was streaked with rust. It made no sound. Inside the refrigerator Colby’s remaining food stood rotten. Colby’s shack had been without power for months and he had reached rock bottom.

Colby had moved to the shack sitting on a large parcel of fertile farmland a year ago. He had always fancied himself a Jeffersonian. He dreamed of a life of self-sufficiency in his own agrarian utopia. Colby thought the place his dream come true.

When Colby had first moved himself and his meager belongings into the farmhouse everything was grand. He began farming and enjoying his new life. His crops were successful and he had become quite good with livestock. He was able to provide almost entirely for himself and still have some leftover spoils for sale. The life Colby had always envisioned, but never thought possible, was finally his.

It was a quiet late-winter evening during his second year on the homestead when Colby saw the documentary. It was not an uncommon thing for cable stations like the Discovery Channel or National Geographic to show documentaries of its type, but none had ever had Colby as a viewer. Colby was well-meaning, kind, hardworking, and generous. Unfortunately, he was also naïve, foolhardy, unlettered, and had a penchant for gullibility.

The documentary Colby was watching showed him sad scenes of penguin’s homes melting away, rain forest creatures losing trees, and scared polar bears floating on icebergs. The documentary had computer-generated visions of apocalyptic disasters like droughts, floods, hurricanes, and tsunamis. In the end, the documentary declared the Earth would become another Venus. Colby had been informed that the cause of this was the burning of fossil fuels. Colby could not believe it.

Colby began changing things at his farm. He no longer used diesel powered farm equipment. He swapped all his modern gear for horse drawn farming equipment. Colby lived too far from town to only travel by horse and buggy, so he traded his large pick-up truck in for a small hybrid car. Colby looked at his shack and realized that he received his power from a coal-fired power plant. The very next day he canceled his power account and had a windmill erected on his farm.

Colby was as happy as he had ever been. He was not only living his lifelong dream, he was also doing his part to save the world. Colby began working his new environmentally friendly farm and he was growing used to the slightly more strenuous labor. His windmill twisted quietly in the wind as he whistled his way to his shack in the evenings. The food he grew now tasted so much better than what he had grown before, in his mind anyway.

Early one summer morning Colby woke up with a smile firmly implanted on his face. He took his pajama shirt off and admired himself in the mirror. “Colby you are looking good.” He told himself. He was right; Colby was in the shape of his life. He was leaner than he had ever been, his abs looked phenomenal, and his muscles were more defined.

Feeling better about his self than he had ever felt, Colby opened up his refrigerator and pulled out his jug of milk. He took one sip before spitting it out. “Disgusting!” He shouted. He checked the refrigerator and noticed it was no longer running. “What happened to this thing?” Colby wondered aloud.

Colby turned the knob on his sink and water began to pour out. He rinsed the sour milk out of his mouth and began splashing water on his face. As he continued to douse his face the spout began to sputter and then the water stopped flowing altogether. Colby pounded the spout before checking the pipes below the sink. Everything seemed fine. Colby was confused.

He flopped on his recliner and picked up the television remote. He pressed the power button but the TV failed to respond. That is when Colby realized that his air conditioning unit was not running either. Colby’s power was out. “That’s impossible; I get my power from my windmill. Something must be wrong.” Colby went outside to investigate.

As soon as he stepped out the door Colby discovered his problem. There was not a single hint of wind. The large propeller on the windmill sat completely still atop its support tower. “I guess I’ll just have to deal with the outage. The wind will pick up tomorrow anyway.” Colby assured himself as he set off on his daily routine.

The next day came but it brought no wind. Colby was not overly concerned because he expected windless days to come from time to time. He decided to use his back up plan. He knew he could not go too many days without watering his crops if it did not rain and his irrigation system required power. Colby had purchased a solar powered generator that could run during the day and store enough power to last through the night. “I know the sun won’t stop shinning!” Colby exclaimed triumphantly.

With the solar generator working Colby was able to restock his fridge. A week had passed and no wind had blown. Colby was not concerned because his solar powered generator was working fine. Colby did his daily chores and went to bed. His appliances were running.

The next morning Colby was woken by his alarm clock. He reached over and knocked the shrill crone off of his nightstand. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes he said to himself, “That’s odd, usually the light of the morning’s first sun wakes me.” As he opened his eyes and looked around he noticed that his shack was unusually dark for this time of day. Just as that thought crossed his mind his air conditioner sputtered and died.

Colby’s power was out again so he walked outside. The sight he saw hit him with the force of two heavyweight champs. Not a single hint of wind blew and not a single shred of sunlight broke through a thick layer of black clouds that blanketed the sky as far as the eye could see. “This is impossible,” Colby told himself, “There’s no way this will last.” It did last.

Weeks passed and the clouds stayed where they were. The wind never stirred. Colby’s dream was turning into a nightmare. Without power he could not water his crops. Without water the crops would die. Without his crops he could not feed himself or his animals. Without his animals he was done. Colby began to panic. He had no food and no money to purchase any. He decided he needed to sell what goods he could muster.

Colby began frantically milking his cows. After he finished with the cows he raced through the chicken coop and collected every egg. As he plucked the eggs from their cubbyholes he barked at the chickens to, “Lay more eggs you lazy creeps!” He finished with his chickens and bolted to his sheep pen. Faster than any man in history he sheered his entire flock of sheep.

Colby’s animal product collecting spree came to an end and he found himself staring at five large crates full of eggs, milk, and wool. His spirits soared as he realized he could purchase enough food to wait out the sun and wind drought. He decided he would also purchase a gas-powered generator, though he knew using it would make him feel quite bad.

He opened the back hatch of his hybrid car and loaded his first crate of goods. He returned with the second and tried to push it into the vehicle. No matter how hard he tried he could not fit the second crate inside. He stood back and examined the car. “There’s no way I can fit anymore crates in there.” He deduced.

Colby was broken again. The nearest town was still a two-hour drive and one crate would not fetch a high enough price to warrant driving back and forth five times. He needed a solution. He noticed the trailer hitch on the back of the car and then he glanced at the large trailer he used to tow with his tractor and pick-up truck. “That’s it!” Colby shouted. He quickly loaded all the crates into the trailer and attached it to his hybrid.

Colby sat in the car and began driving down the hill that led to the road. He hit the street and turned left towards town. Things went smoothly until he began driving up a hill. As the car started up the hill it began to slow. Colby pressed the gas, but to no avail. As he reached the middle of the incline the car stopped and began to roll backwards. As it barreled down the hill the trailer began to jackknife. The car began to move closer to the trailer and Colby had no choice. He leapt out the door towards the side of the road. He looked back just as the car came into contact with the trailer. The trailer won with ease leaving behind nothing of his hybrid except a twisted heap of environmentally friendly scrap metal.

The hybrid was not totally without offense. It did manage, however accidentally, to tip the trailer on its side. The trailer had no noticeable damage but an interesting work of art was taking shape on the pitched road. Streams of milk rolled rapidly down the hill mixing with the running yolk and whites of eggs to create a yellowed delta. Chunks of wool created the appearance of grassy islands. The wool isles separated the thick liquid into more and more tributaries as the milk and eggs flowed toward level ground.

Colby watched the fruits of his day’s labor wash away and cried. He was done for now. If the sky did not clear or the wind did not start blowing he would not last much longer. He walked slowly back to his shack and flopped into his bed. The days continued to pass. Colby spent them sitting at the base of his windmill staring up at the stationary propeller. When he was not watching the windmill he watched the black clouds churning above him. At night he would eat what non-perishable foods he had and claw at his table with his fingernails and knives.

Colby’s crops had long since died and the last of his livestock had been dead for three days when he sat pounding his head and cursing his situation. He stared with contempt at the silent air conditioner. His small shack had become a miniature Venus. He had finally run completely out of food and was resigned to death. He began to feel strangely at peace. He thought, “I tried. I had a dream and tried to live it. I just came up a little short.” With that final thought he went to bed for what he figured would be one of the last times.

            A strange sound awoke Colby early the next morning. It was familiar, but he could not remember where he had heard it before. It was not unlike a stream crashing over stones toward a small waterfall. That is when it clicked. “The wind!” Colby shouted. He jumped from his bed and burst outside, he was met by a cool rush gliding over his face and ruffling his hair. Colby let out triumphant cries of joy and ran towards his windmill.

He reached the windmill and gazed gleefully at the propeller. It was spinning rapidly in the robust new wind. He began laughing and looked to the sky shouting, “Thank you!” As he looked up he saw another joyous sight in the distance. The horizon was brighter than all the land before it. The clouds were breaking and the sun was coming out again.

Colby was waking up from his nightmare and he could not be happier. As he stood blissfully beside his windmill a strange sound caught his ear. It was a high-pitched squeal not unlike the call of a coyote. He heard the screech again and he thought it sounded as if the poor creature were struggling to hold itself together. He began scanning the horizon in search of the sound. He could not see anything and he could not figure out which direction the sound was coming from. It squealed louder and with a sickening metallic tone as Colby continued looking around in bewilderment.

Colby’s mom had arrived at Colby’s farm for a surprise visit. She carried a basket chock full of all Colby’s favorite foods. She had cakes, cookies, brownies, meat, potatoes, and everything she needed to cook her son’s favorite meal. When she pulled up to the shabby shack she could not believe what she saw around her. The farm was completely dead. The crops had dried up and were slowly rotting away. Animal carcasses were laid out in a row atop the brown grass that covered the pasture. Her son was nowhere in sight.

She felt bad that her son was not having success as a farmer so she went inside. The air conditioner was humming and the TV was on. She turned it off and opened the refrigerator. She recoiled at the smell that met her from the cool box. All the food in the fridge was rotten. She took it all out and replaced it with the fresh stuff she had bought. “That boy was always so messy. I’ll be sure to scold him when he gets home.” She told herself.

Colby’s mom waited a long time for Colby to come home. She waited so long that she fell asleep on his tattered love seat. The next morning she awoke to find the house just as it had been left. Colby had not come home at all. She was worried. She went outside and began calling his name. “Colby! Colby,” She cried, “where are you Colby?” Her calls went unanswered.

Colby’s mother began racing around his property as fast as her little old legs could carry her. She searched the barn, the chicken coop, the pasture, and the fields of dead crops. She could not find her son anywhere. She was becoming hysterical when she saw a strange bunch of metal sticking out of the ground in the distance. She ran over to it.

When Colby’s mom arrived at the pile of metal she saw that it was the remains of a windmill. The support tower had snapped near the bottom. She ran her hand along the metal as she walked from one end to the other of the fallen power generation unit. When she reached the center she gasped. She let out a strained cry and fell to her knees. Staring up at her was a smiling face with wide-open dead eyes. Colby lay crushed to death under his fallen windmill.