“Man, it’s really blowin’ today, huh?” Linouk says. Turbulent gales send crystalized rain dancing across a stretching tundra and mounting hills in small twisters of pure white powder. Linouk sits in the side car of a snomo, lazily staring out at her ice-covered surroundings. A hard plastic dome protruding from the vehicle wraps her in its protective bubble, acting as a translucent barrier against the chilling wind. Beside her, sitting in the driver’s seat, is her old friend Maklo. Forests of fir trees on both sides scream by as the machine careens down a familiar hill. Maklo matches Linouk’s eyes for a moment and remarks with a smirk, “Another rendezvous with the ol’ dusty trail.”. A pair of short comm headsets allow them to communicate over the whining engine of the machine. Linouk rolls her eyes under her loose fur hood. She might have faked a laugh, if Maklo didn’t crack the same, lame “joke” every single time they embarked on their monthly expedition. She doesn’t even snicker as she turns her head back to the landscape before them. The large skis beneath the bulky vehicle bend with the curve of the hill as it transitions into flat snow fields, the large tread in the back continuing to kick up a spray of loose snow. Linouk has read that in the old world, people would pay a lot to have an experience like this, but the old world is long gone, this is just routine. A bright sun shines down on their enormous ball of snow, as it has for their ancestors for 10,000 years.
Of the folly of man
Remaining historical accounts scrawl an epic of greed, backstabbing, and war surrounding the inevitable destruction of the old world. According to the faded writings on those ancient tomes, many people of the past didn’t care about the environment, or at least, not enough to change their ways, but the true culprits of the millennia of ice were the corporations. Words tell of enormous machines run by hundreds of people, eating up resources and lives just for pieces of green paper. They covered the entire planet, like tumors on a body. Smog spewed from their nostrils every time they took a fetid breath, and poison oozed from their mouths every time they roared with hunger. More lives and more material to feed the beasts. There exist plenty of stories of specific corporations and their heinous crimes, but the overarching consequence was the complete and utter destruction of the people’s way of life. The warm smog rising from their bodies heated the atmosphere and melted the polar ice caps, which in turn disrupted the world’s ocean currents with fresh, Arctic waters. Eventually the ice and snow just never stopped. It began slowly; half of the world’s population didn’t even believe it. Regardless of how much scientists would warn and plead with humanity about the melting, those who thought they knew better would shoot them down. “Well, I don’t see any difference!” “The winters are still cold, and the summers are still hot, these scientist guys are full of it.” The CEOs and corporation owners just sat in their tall towers, uncaring. None of them really had any idea of what global warming and climate change meant, of course. By the time people wised up, it was too late.
/////
Linouk shakes the fog out of her eyes as Maklo cuts the engine. She snaps open the front lock, lifts the protective dome, and hops out onto the freshly layered snow, the first stop of their long day. Lying before them, at the foot of a small knoll, is an enormous lake; its sides and limbs splayed out beyond the horizon. This lake has long been marked as a communal drinking spot for the herds of animals that make their home in the area, thus its importance to the people of Linouk’s Homeden. In the previous month, different teams noticed an increase in traffic to the lake, signs that new herds migrated to the area. This is what they’ve come to monitor. Linouk grabs her rifle out of the sidecar and checks it. A modified version of a semi-automatic, pre-frost rifle, this weapon is equipped with an elongated trigger, a stretched-out trigger guard, and a secondary grip halfway down its barrel. In addition, the sight has been pulled out to the left, allowing easy access even while wearing a bulky, fur coat. Linouk peers through the sight, checking its alignment. When she’s satisfied, she slings the rifle onto her back and circles the snomo with a smile to join Maklo. “You got your stuff?” She asks. “Yep, they packed me some extras too, as if these containers weren’t already difficult enough to carry.” Maklo says. “New herds mean plenty more specimen for the ‘collectors’ back home.” Linouk retorts. She begins to tramp down the short hill towards the edge of the water, Maklo following close behind. The prints left by their large boots will be covered once again by nightfall. “It’s impressive, how much information they can get out of animal shit.” He comments.
Waves lap gently at the cold, snow-speckled sand before their feet. Moments like this, in the near still peacefulness of a rocking lake, it’s hard for Linouk to believe that this planet had been home to billions of human beings. They stand at the water’s edge for a few moments, watching the hypnotic back and forth of the tide. “Well, better get to work.” Maklo says, breaking the silence. Linouk doesn’t answer at first, part of her mind stuck in her imaginings, part of it annoyed at Maklo for ruining the moment. “Let’s go.”, she finally says, snapping her gaze away from the water. They walk the perimeter of the lake, Linouk with rifle in hand, watching the distant trees and bushes that have evolved to grow in the frigid climate, and Maklo scouring the ground for droppings, now and again opening a container, scooping a specimen inside, and exchanging it with another container. Maklo stoops to pick up some droppings near a thick cluster of bushes, when they begin to violently shake. Linouk’s rifle is up and pointed towards the foliage in an instant. “Crawl this way, slowly.” She commands in a monotone voice. Maklo, visibly flustered, complies. He inches his way towards his friend, careful not to make any sudden movements, unable to stop the shaking of his arms. As he reaches the shore, Maklo plants a gloved hand on a patch of sand and to his horror, as the sand starts to shift under his weight, he faceplants onto the ground. The sudden movement invigorates the bush’s shaking, becoming increasingly ferocious, and just as Linouk is deciding whether to fire a shot into the foliage, the bush jerks one last time. A thick, furred animal bursts out of the side of the cluster. No bigger than a pre-frost boar, and clearly not looking for a fight, it darts off towards the distant forest, leaving a trail of upset snow in its path. Linouk relaxes her stance as she watches the animal disappear. Then she turns her gaze to Maklo, still sprawled out on the ground. “Come on, wuss, it’s just a Firbor.” She teases. Rifle now slung on her back once more, she reaches out a hand to help her friend up. “Hey, have you seen the coats on those things? They’ll give you a mean brush burn.” Maklo jokes as he pops to his feet. He brushes himself off to the sound of Linouk’s friendly laughter. “Well, that should be enough samples for the collectors back home. Come on, let’s head back to the snomo before a little bird tries to dive bomb me.” They head back to their ride, one stop on their adventurous journey complete.
Of cooperation and the building of the Homedens
By the time experts had realized, it was too late to stop the encroaching ice age. The Gulf Stream and the rest of the world’s ocean currents had weakened to an irreversible state and surging arctic waters had passed a critical point. Once the nations of the world understood what they had done, they put aside their differences and worked together for once, to their credit. It took an extinction level disaster to bring them together, of course, but better late than never. Brilliant minds from across the globe convened daily, attempting to solve, or at least mitigate, the problem they all faced. In the end, the plan with the greatest impact that could be completed in the allotted time, was to build underground. Enormous caverns, 2 kilometers in diameter, would house people in underground cities, deep enough that geothermal heat would stave off the freezing temperatures and allow the growth of plant life. The people of every nation worked tirelessly, those with the strength and stamina for manual labor would help gather raw materials, those who couldn’t, would send food and water. Race, religion, individual beliefs didn’t matter, everyone worked side by side towards the common goal. Within a decade, the resources had been gathered, and the plan was finally put into action. Machines the size of warehouses, like steel cobwebs bolted into the ground, stood on continents and countries all over the world. Two in America, Europe, and Asia; one in Africa and South America; and one in various countries like Canada, Saudi Arabia, and Japan. They tore at and eviscerated dirt and rock with bladed drills the size of houses, like predators devouring a fresh kill. It proceeded at a painfully grueling pace. Titanium struts were placed frequently along the tunnels to prevent cave ins, and each time, the enormous drill had to be stopped. After two decades, the tunnels were finally complete, the caverns hollowed out. Then the building began. Apartments were erected among a grey forest of cave support struts, their floors crammed into the ground, and their roofs crammed into the ceiling, like New York City blocks stuffed into mountains. This design constituted the outside ring of the caverns. Along the narrow, stone streets, within eyesight of each building’s stoop, were rectangles of greenery; what above would have been beds of grass and trees for aesthetic purposes, were below pods of kelp, creating the life sustaining oxygen that’s in so short supply under the earth’s crust. Set directly in the middle of each cavern was humanity’s agricultural marvel. A tiered farm from the ground to the ceiling, 500 meters in diameter, housing layers of vegetables and fruits growing deep underground. LED lights would be used in place of the sun, water would be pumped in from outside. With the laborious construction complete, all they had to do now was populate it.
/////
The frost was brutal, but it wasn’t all consuming. From the very beginning, there were men and women who prepared for life on the surface. These stubborn and hardy people, often consisting of small towns or groups of a few families combined, hunted and gathered, and scrounged for resources that weren’t taken by the enormous construction projects. Over the ten thousand years of ice, many developed into tribes which continued to roam the expanded surface of the earth. Most of the tribes that Linouk’s Homeden had met with in the past had been peaceful and eager to trade for vegetables and medicines from the underground cities. Only a select few troublesome encounters are recorded, with those tribes’ outerwear and symbols known to every man and woman tasked with leaving the Homeden. A trade and goodwill mission with a long-standing, peaceful tribe constitutes the second stop on Linouk’s and Maklo’s journey on this day.
A cacophony of excited barking fills the air and heralds their arrival as Maklo gently brings the snomo to a stop. A collection of thirty or so large, fur tents sit before them across the open field like a herd of snoring beasts. This time Maklo’s the first one out of the vehicle, followed by a tentative Linouk. He walks a few paces towards the camp, throws up his arms in a ‘Y’ shape, and shouts a single word that Linouk doesn’t understand. Maklo waits, smiling, for an answer, his arms still hanging in midair. The wait isn’t long. Soon after Maklo’s single syllable proclamation, an old man emerges from one of the larger tents, throws his arms up, and repeats the word like a parrot, an enormous, toothy smile plastered on his face. As the old man approaches Maklo, he puts his arms out in front of himself as if he were handing over a large box, his palms up and his fingers spread open. Maklo mimics the gesture, except his palms face down. As the two come face to face, Maklo lays his arms on top of the old man’s, and both grip each other’s forearm in welcome; signaling that the tribe recognizes Linouk and Maklo as guests and honors them accordingly. The old man offers the same to Linouk who responds in kind. An uncomfortable, awkward smile finds its way across her face. Once they’ve both been greeted, the old tribesman turns to focus on Maklo as he rattles on in short bursts of sentences. Various languages have been developed by different tribes throughout the frost, but one variable seems consistent among all of them; every language makes use of short, punchy words. In the migratory and dangerous lifestyle that each tribe endures on the surface, commands and messages must be quick. Linouk watches from a distance, staying far outside the circumference of repartee, as Maklo and the tribesman excitedly converse. She lets her gaze wander about the open field, taking in the tribal folks’ way of life, careful not to awkwardly lock eyes with anyone. Maklo’s conversation progresses faster than Linouk anticipates and when she snaps out of her daydreaming, Maklo hands over the box of goods to be traded. He takes out a few of the objects in the box and shows them off, as if he were selling a product to a business back home. The old man looks at each object with scrutiny and care before finally nodding to each one, his smile seeming to grow larger and larger with every nod. “I guess he’s happy with everything.” Linouk says. The old man carries his new box of goodies to one of the larger tents. “Yep, now they just have to bring us our stuff, and we can head out.” Maklo responds. They watch the old man disappear behind the flaps of the tent. Linouk sticks close to Maklo as they wait for the old man to return.
Of the populating of Homedens and war
The selection process for each Homeden was as delicate as creating an ecosystem. Men and women with degrees in various high intelligence fields such as engineering, medicine, and biology were the first to be chosen, but a proper civilization isn’t built out of scientists alone. Citizens who are willing to do menial and dangerous labor are also necessary for a functioning society. The balance was delicate, but it was painstakingly worked out. By the end, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between the population of a Homeden and your average above-ground city. Of course, this balance took into consideration people who would buy or worm themselves into this new civilization through connections and politics, regardless of whether they were necessary or not. Care was also taken regarding ethnicity. A healthy portion of every race from around the globe was among those chosen, placed in the Homeden that would best suit their eccentricities. They had begun to migrate people into the Homedens when the first distressing signs of the coming ice age showed themselves. Coastlines and tropical islands became barren; foliage that required warm temperatures stopped growing. Once the people were faced with the undeniable reality of their situation, desperation and fear took over. Extreme religious groups, countries that thought they had been slighted, groups of terrified people; they all tried to force their way into the Homedens or take control for their own reasons. Gun fire, bombs, and screams rang throughout the day, and echoed throughout the night. Transports of chosen citizens were ambushed, some were captured and replaced by the radical groups’ own people, some were just massacred. It was a worldwide disaster in the middle of a worldwide disaster. A couple of Homedens were even taken down. Martyrs would sneak or force their way in and plant bombs on clusters of struts or just blow themselves up. Those acts are what led to the erecting of thick, titanium walls that mark each remaining Homeden. Subsequently, Military installations were placed inside and outside of the walls, for added protection, and their populations added to the Homedens’ already crowded civilizations. The nuclear bombs followed soon after, dropped on dangerous rebelling countries. The mushroom clouds were back lit by sickly light from the explosions as radiation seeped into the ground. Entire peoples and civilizations, gone in the blink of an eye. By the time the ice and snow had accumulated around the equator, the fighting was only a shadow of what it once was. A few small groups would attack on occasion, but they would be dealt with swiftly and easily. A lot of people were dead, a lot more would be killed by a lack of food, or the unforgiving cold in the coming years.
/////
Linouk and Maklo race across the blinding white snow towards the ultimate destination of their scouting trip. Up ahead, Linouk can see the undulations of the land as flat plains and gently rolling hills transform into towering mountains and deep valleys, a constant representation of aging. As they approach, Maklo slows the snomo to a crawl. They’re about two hundred miles away from the Homeden now, and the unpredictable terrain, partially hidden by the ice and snow, can be incredibly dangerous. They both know that if they were to fall and injure themselves, it would mean death. Maklo maneuvers the snomo up to a handful of tall flagpoles that mark the entrance to a valley the width of a pre-frost, two-lane road In between two oppressive mountains. He sighs, “Well, here we go. The boring part of the day.” He forwards the snomo at a turtle’s pace and enters the mountain pass. “It’s just as beautiful as last time.” Linouk pulls back the glass dome covering her, the segmented pieces sliding underneath each other until the entire plastic structure fits into a half-circle slot behind her seat. Steam rises from her mouth and nose as she admires the mountain scenery. All around them vertical cliffs reach up to the blue sky, the trees atop like fingers being dipped into a cool lake. “I wish I could live here instead of underground in that cramped hell hole.” Her head continues to swivel back and forth, taking in every inch of the scenery. Maklo steals a glance at her when her head is turned, “Hey, you’re not still fuming about those guys at the bar, are you?” Linouk’s movements visibly dampen at the mention of the bar. “Forget them, they don’t know a damn thing about us.” Maklo continues. Linouk sits silently for a minute before responding. “Bunch of pricks, thinking they’re better than us just because they work on the machines in the Homeden. Just sit there and laugh at anyone like us. loud enough so everyone is sure to hear them, of course. What’s the point otherwise. Gotta let the people know who’s superior!” Her voice grows louder, and her movements become animated. “God! I’d like to take my rifle and just put a round in each of their stomachs.” She mimics firing a rifle and then drops her hands into her lap.
“Whoa, I know they’re dickheads, but don’t talk like that.” Maklo responds, his eyes back on the road. “Besides, they’ll think twice about opening their mouths after the beating you gave them.” He lets out a chuckle, thinking about it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen somebody so surprised in my life, you’d think a wild animal had broken in and attacked them. It took four of us to separate you from them.” He steals another glance at his partner, this time quick enough to see the flash of a smirk cross her face. He smiles, “You know, we probably won’t be allowed back at that bar.” “It was worth it.” Linouk says in a quiet voice, a smile on her lips. A few minutes pass in silence as the two continue down the valley. “You can’t keep doing things like that.” Maklo breaks the silence with a serious tone. “The police will lock you away eventually.” He tries to mask the worry in his words. “Maybe it would be better in jail.” Linouk responds. She catches the concerned look that her friend gives her and sighs, “I know, I know. It’s just, all of those people crammed together in such a small place. It takes everything I have just to join the crowd some mornings. But you’re right.” Linouk looks into her friend’s eyes, “I’ll try to do better, I really will.” Maklo nods and turns his gaze back to the valley path.
It takes them another hour to wind their way through the twisting valleys. Now, Linouk and Maklo stand on a flat plateau, staring at a small lake of extremely hot water. “It’s hard to believe we’re standing on a giant volcano, huh?” Maklo stoops down and checks the edge of the ice. “Hasn’t receded any since the last team was here a few weeks ago.” Marking the ground in between the snow and the heated lake are little flags stuck into the bare earth, each denoting a past recession in the circumference of freezing ice. There are about twenty flags, placed in a crooked line like a young child would draw. Each has a year stitched into the fabric of the flag. The first flag in the line reads 1206 FA, Frost Age; placed there by the first team 50 years ago. It wasn’t until 1200 years ago that the inhabitants of Linouk’s Homeden stopped counting years as those who lived before the ice and decided to start recording in their own age. “Well, let’s go check the other spots, just in case.” Linouk nods her affirmation and the two begin their rounds of the wide plateau. By the time they reach the final pool of water, Linouk can see the sun beginning to dip out of the sky. “Well, that was the last one.” Maklo says, lifting himself up from his kneeling position at the side of a small circle of water. “Nothing, huh?” “Nope, no recession this time.” Linouk shrugs, “It’s not going to be different every time, right?” They begin their walk back, small talk filling the otherwise quiet landscape when they hear a stick snap among the trees to their left. In a heartbeat Linouk is alert and focused, ready to swing her rifle around and be able to fire within a few seconds. “Hah, another firbor I bet, it’s not going to surprise me this time.” Maklo says. “Maklo wait, don’t!” Linouk’s warning goes unheard as Maklo takes a step forward and puffs himself up. “Hey, you little shit! You’d better run! Haha, I am man, top of the food chain! I eat animals like you all the time!” Maklo continues to carry on, a smile brightening his face. With her attempt to reign in her friend failing completely, coupled with the continued, seemingly unafraid footsteps that she can hear from the forest in between Maklo’s joyful shouts, Linouk begins to grow more nervous. She delicately adopts a hunter’s stance, angling her body at a diagonal and bending her knees slightly. As another of Maklo’s shouts rings through the air, they catch sight of the animal, and both turn a ghostly pale. A thickset, powerful animal, about eight feet tall on all fours, lumbers out of the tree line. Thick fur cascades down its body like overflowing beer, stopping just short of the snowy ground. A curtain of fur seems to cover the beast’s eyes, but by the way it turns its head between the two of them, Linouk knows that isn’t the case. “Back up, very slowly.” Linouk instructs Maklo in a whisper. As they both take a step backwards, the bear stands up on its hindlegs, and roars. “Run!” Linouk yells. She swings the rifle around and, as the bear begins to charge towards the now fleeing Maklo, she takes a shot. The bullet does little to impede the bear’s momentum as it tears into its right shoulder, but the impact does change the beast’s direction. Sensing a greater danger than its prey, the bear now charges directly at Linouk.
Dropping her aim, she runs around the side of the pool of hot water, pulling the bear away from Maklo. As it gains on her, Linouk dashes into the dense forest, weaving around trees, attempting to outmaneuver the bear. The beast does lag behind, but it doesn’t give up. Linouk can still hear it crashing through brush and fallen branches in a frenzied attempt to catch her. When she bursts out through the opposite side of the forest, any hope she had disappears. In front of her lies a flat snow field, about 60 meters in length. At the end, a sheer cliff. “This is it.” She thinks to herself upon reaching the cliff’s edge. Linouk turns, plants one knee in the snow, shoulders her rifle and waits. Not a second later, the bear bursts out of the forest after her, covering ground at an incredible rate. Linouk takes a shot, then a second, then a third, the rifle digging into her shoulder with every explosion of gunpowder. Each bullet strikes, but none seem to have effect. The bear is now close enough that Linouk can see its eyes, burning with fury, beneath the curtain of fur. Only a second or two more before the bear takes her. She fires again, knowing that this is the last time. The final bullet spins towards its target as if time had been slowed to a tenth of its normal speed. It enters the bear’s left eye, a “one in a hundred” shot, and the bear drops to the ground mid run and slides to a stop. Linouk almost drops her rifle, the shock and joy of still being alive overwhelming her. She takes a few moments to catch her breath and then rises and slowly steps over to the bear, only 20 feet away, not once taking her rifle’s sights off the beast. When she’s sure that the bear is dead, she drops to her knees and lets the rifle fall to the ground. She places her hands on the ground, her chest heaving as she takes large breaths. Through the pounding in her ears, she hears another noise, not rustling, or the breaking of branches, but something underneath; then she falls.
Linouk rolls head over heels a few times before coming to an abrupt stop. When she opens her eyes, her vision is filled with a uniform grey, then she realizes that she’s looking up at a ceiling of stone. What reflects in her eyes when she lifts herself up almost takes her breath away once again. A small grotto sits before her, surrounded by stone on two sides. Grass covers the small pocket of dirt, freckled with colorful flowers. On the opposite side of the grotto, stalactites hang from the cliff above to create a wall of ice that separates the dome of foliage from the outside world. Below them a small stream of water bends into the grotto and then back out, likely following a river outside. Linouk pulls her hood back. She stands still for a moment as her naked skin reacts to the thermal heat rising from below her.
Maklo waits for a minute before chasing after Linouk and the bear. Additional gunfire has yet to reach his ears after the sudden, distant barrage. That can mean only two things: either the bear is dead and Linouk has simply stopped shooting, or Linouk is dead, and he’s running to his death. If it’s the latter, Maklo’s not so sure he wants to live anyway. His chest tightens as he rushes into the forest. “Linouk, Linouk!” Maklo continues to shout his friend’s name as he races through the trees. As soon as he reaches the other side, he spots the lifeless body of the bear, but no sign of Linouk. Fear gripping his heart, he rushes over to the fallen beast and looks underneath it. A sigh of relief escapes his lips, “She’s not underneath it, but where did she go? Linouk!?” “Down here!” The muffled voice seems to come from underground. He’s about to call again when he sees the hole.
Linouk hears Maklo dropping down the hole, the tumbling and scraping of stone and dirt echoing in the small grotto. She’s knelt on the ground, running her hands through the soft grass when she feels his presence behind her. “Holy shit.” He says. “Isn’t it beautiful? Grass! And flowers! Blooming naturally for what might be the first time in 10,000 years!” Linouk replies. She rushes over to him and wraps him in a great hug.