Here's another short story submission I did that is bit darker. Enjoy.
Trust the Science
Meeks knew the little ones were hungry. He felt the familiar gnawing in the pit of his own belly. Everyone was hungry, always. There is never enough food to keep full, but there is enough, with careful planning, to survive. Meeks is a farmer from a long line of farmers and if there’s anything farmers have historically excelled at, its planning…and surviving. As his bony, slightly palsied hands begin the familiar task of tool maintenance in the flickering firelight, Meeks reflected on the past. He recalled, with no small amount of sadness, a time when he could have jumped in his truck and drove into town to pick up a month’s worth of food at the market. Those days were long gone. Now there was no truck, no gas for the truck even if he had still had it, no market and nearly no food. But Meeks had survived and would continue to survive because, if there was anything he was good at, it was surviving.
It was the early 21st century, at least ten years ago but surely no more than twenty. Meeks really didn’t know anymore, one day was essentially the same as any other. The Coup of the Intellectuals, decades in the making, brought the greatest scientific minds in the world into all the highest offices around the globe. With the grandest of fanfare, celebrated by themselves, they swept into power on the promises of stopping climate change, curing all illness and disease and healing the planet to create Paradise, the Garden of Eden for modern man. At the head of the scientific cabal was a small weasel of a man with soulless eyes and the disposition of a wolverine in a perpetual bad mood. Meeks couldn’t remember his actual name and only referred to him as Dr. “I am the Science” as his platform was “I am the Science. Trust the Science”. He and the rest of the brain trust ran unopposed on bringing the world together in a global utopia. Well, that’s not entirely accurate, there was plenty of opposition in the beginning but those that stood against them quickly disappeared, basically ceasing to exist. Meeks made sure to keep his head down, maintain a low profile and survive. If ever there was something Meeks was good at, it was surviving.
Overnight the world was completely changed. All industries were nationalized and placed under the purview the Global Scientific Board’s select committee. The evil oil and gas production was immediately halted. The auto industry that had, for so long, spewed poisons into the atmosphere, was dismantled and banned in less than seventy-two hours. The large industrial empires that had driven global commerce, families that had controlled ninety-nine percent of the world’s wealth…. were gone. Not driven from power. Not in hiding on some remote island. They were just gone, eliminated by the Big Brains in charge with Dr. “I am the Science” leading the way. Television, radio and newspapers were all under the control of our new overseers and everywhere was the bombardment of “SCIENCE, INTELLIGENCE, UNITY” and “TRUST THE SCIENCE”. Through all of this, no more fuel for his truck or farm equipment, no more chemical fertilizer, no more GMO seeds, Meeks survived. If there was anything that he was good at, it was surviving.
With all global power under their collective thumbs, the Brains were ready to tackle “the greatest imminent threat to mankind… climate change”. The world’s best minds had determined that they would create a “cloud curtain” to shield Earth’s surface from the effects of the Sun. This would allow the world’s climate to stabilize and reset to pre-industrial age levels, at which time they would disperse the cloud and a new era would arise. All us subjects had to do was leave the work to them, “SCIENCE, INTELLIGENCE, UNITY”, “TRUST THE SCIENCE”. It didn’t work out so well. Two weeks into the grand plan, crops started to wither in the fields, but our benevolent leaders assured us that it was anticipated and there was nothing to worry about, we just had to trust the science. Four weeks in, total systemic crop collapse with the first specters of starvation looming in the near future. At six weeks, livestock around the world started dropping dead where they stood. The world government implemented their nutritional supplement program of which Meeks refused to participate in. Neither he, nor his ancestors, had ever depended on handouts to survive and they were very good at surviving.
Week eight, Dr. “I am the science” took to the nationalized broadcasting system to declare that, due to the lack of effort by the public, they would be ending the Cloud Shield program early, with possible re-implementation at a later date. Every man, woman and child should be ashamed of themselves for their failure to have faith in their betters. The cloud dissipation operation was a spectacular failure resulting in a foul smelling, oily rain and no Sun. Diseases that hadn’t been seen for nearly two centuries resurfaced, pandemic after pandemic swept across continents, killing indiscriminately. Three months after the start of the Brain’s global rule, eighty percent of pregnant women in the world spontaneously miscarried. Of those few that managed to deliver, half were stillborn, and a quarter were hideously deformed. It was then discovered that nearly ninety percent of the world’s population was now sterile and that was the end of civilization as it was known to that point. The people of the world rose up to wage war on the Brains, truly unified for possibly the first time in human history, to sweep away the tyranny of the intellectual elite in blood and fire. People had trusted the science and the science had failed them. Meeks stayed at his farm, surviving the best he could, and he was very good at it.
Fussing from the young ones brought Meeks back to the present. He checked the blade he’s been sharpening by deftly slicing a piece of callus from his thumb then slipping into his belt sheath. Meeks absentmindedly scratched at a scab on the side of his neck as he stood up with a grunt. With a clap of his grungy hands he exclaimed, “Who wants to help with food?” A sea of hands desperately waved towards Meeks amidst grunts and moans. He thought to himself that number eleven is starting to look a little pudgy, he’d be perfect. “Come along eleven. Come help Daddy with the food for everyone”. Eleven’s face lit up like an old-fashioned light bulb and he laughed and hawed like a mule as he made his way to the front of the pen. Meeks reached out for Eleven’s hand as his eyes scanned the faces of the boys. They were all boys in this pen as the girls were kept separate for breeding to maintain the stock. As he and the boy headed towards the back door that led to the chopping block Meeks thought to himself, if there’s anything I’m good at, it’s surviving.
The end
![[Image: m6Lj0Pf.jpg]](https://i.imgur.com/m6Lj0Pf.jpg)
