Fresh Air

A short, short story about a world without air.

The gum trees danced. The wind bounced their boughs angrily at the ground and up again, always moving. A dreaded sound, the rustle of eucalyptus. Beneath their long limbs walked a solitary man, wandering empty streets strewn with foliage.
	He picked his way through man-made and natural rubbish, eyes keen for anything useful. His gait was awkward, encumbered by the suit he wore. The mechanism on his back weighed him down, slowed him and stopped him when he didn't pay attention. In and out, in and out went his breath, amplified by the machine, but drowned out by the roaring of reverberating flora.
	Street lamps wrapped in lantana, cars surrounded by ferns. At an intersection the man passed a gigantic Bird of Prey, its hydra-like form stabbing at the air. He stopped in the middle of where the roads met. They stretched in all directions, leading to places that were once somewhere. On the corner he came to the place he was looking for.
	'Woolworths', the sign read. 'The Fresh Food People'
        	The once-automatic doors slid apart with some effort, rust having accumulated over the years. Stepping into the building, the man surveyed this relic. Overgrowth had run rampant.
	Every aisle was fruit and veg. Wild tomatoes, mushrooms, and strawberries covered the floor, ripe for the picking. He grabbed a black, plastic basket and moved along the rows, taking what was needed.
	He gingerly parted vines to get at the few tins and cans that were left. Thankfully the health and body section was largely devoid of plant-life, freeing the man's movements. Gathering some plastic bags, he turned towards the gardening section.
	What had been there was now gone, pilfered in the early days. Snatched up during Harmony. The man, and the people he had left at home, could really have used some weed killer. He knew it was a terrible, risky thought, but Mother Nature wasn't the only one who could retaliate. 
        	Without what he came for, the man left the once-super market. Outside in the sun he could immediately breathe easier. Outside the plant-life didn't close in so much. He chose east at a whim, and continued his search.

	The man wasn't the only thing that moved, but he was the only thing that moved with purpose. He picked his way along pre-Harmony streets, stopping at certain houses. Climbing in empty windows or breaking down rotten doors, he searched for chemicals and tools. Anything that would hold Nature back.
	Cockroaches teemed in the woodwork of every building, and ant nests burst from between cracks in the bitumen. The micro-organisms had adapted naturally to the changes brought on by the Earth, whereas humans, could only use his intellect and tools in order to survive. It worked, but they did not thrive.
	Stumbling over the bones of animals and bicycles, the man entered a particularly large house. He made his way slowly through the halls, which were eerily devoid of plant-life, looking for anything of use, anything at all.
	He came to the bottom of a large staircase. He froze. There were some plants, but they had clearly been moved. It was unnatural. Something�"a human�"had been here.
	Carefully, not wanting to disturb the scene, the man climbed the stairs. There were even fewer plants on the top level. His eyes scanned everywhere, his movements stiff and ready. The noise from the breathing apparatus increased with renewed breathing. The door at the end of the hall was ajar, and a tinged daylight crept through the crack.
	Kicking the door open he was met with a plastic sheet, but through it he could see greenery. The man recoiled for a moment at the reappearance, but pushed aside the flaps and journeyed into this contained jungle. It was an unnatural scene with a decidedly human feel. Moving through palm fronds and drooping vines, the man came face to face with a couple.
	They were man and woman, and knelt, staring at the intruder. They wore no suit, nor used any breathing tools. They looked dishevelled, but had a healthy complexion, far healthier than anyone back at camp. Minutes passed while they stared at each other, until the wanderer turned on his microphone.
	"What...who are you?" he asked, the robotic voice amplified by the close quarters.
	"No one in particular," the woman replied. Both of them seemed nonplussed. 
	"How the hell are you living without air?" he almost yelled, giving in to the madness. The two of them continued to sit peacefully, smiling now. 
	"Who says we don't have air?" the bearded man said, his skin a dark shade of brown. The wanderer stepped back, looked around, up,  saw the skylight, spun around.
	"Go on," continued the woman, "Take that helmet off. Conserve some air for your return trip."
	The wanderer looked at them, mouth open in disgust. 
	"No...I don't know what, who you are, or if you're real. Just, if you are, tell me what this is?"
	"Why, this is a greenhouse. What we're doing is growing plants, different from the ones outside. Plants that remember how to take and give. How to produce air as we once knew it."
	"Impossible. The trees gave up on us a long time ago. Now I know you're not real."
	And with that the man left the oasis. He turned and ran down the stairs, his bulky outfit crashing into the banister, the weight on his back unbalancing him and sending him sprawling across the tiles. Crashing through the door, he entered the outside world again. He slowed his breathing. Looked up. The purple of jacarandas crowded his vision, the sun glittering through the limbs. Peering down he saw that the flowers littered the street, rotting slowly. He could almost smell the stink through his suit.
	Keeping his eyes to the ground, at the death of plants, he headed back to camp.

Reviews

[Homemaster]

Thanks for the tips guys. I've actually changed it significantly with a definitive ending and a little change of the themes (but not the overall message).

[Terry]

A little random but well written. I did like the 'one persons view is another persons reality.'.

[Saichiro Wolftotem]

Very intriguing. Really, though, I think it needs more of a conclusion. Otherwise this story is quite interesting. I like the quiet desolation.