The Industrialist

The man’s legs hung from a deep deathly chasm as he sat on the edge of a mountain cliff. The edge was a perfectly cut rock that would enable one to sit properly without sliding one’s thighs.

It was a perfect spot for him.

Half a mile below his feet was a sea of dark clouds. He could not even see beyond the expanse of the land, as dust particles prohibited him from seeing. However, his vision flew towards the horizon where blue skies above met the dark skies below.

He felt the cold air, fresh and clean without the mercy of filtration. Without the reach of MAF. All he could say was the sun was magnificent.

His comrades said that the polluted and radiated air seemed to have physical limits failing its reach beyond a certain level, hence, clean air above the dark cloud skies.

Probably the dust particles and the radiation they carried were heavy enough. Hence, density was the culprit.

Even after a few years of experiencing direct sunlight, still, the sight of it seems to be his first time. Even the sunrays hurt his eyes, they felt like a blessing from a supernatural omnipotent being.

The thought of darkness still haunts him and gives him nightmares as his thoughts linger longer.

’Damn you!’ He cursed inwardly. He cursed every day upon the sight of the dark sea of clouds. His curses were meant to no one in particular. He had forgotten why he cursed so much.

But it seemed right, felt right, the cursing. He should air out whatever that accumulates heavily in his chest, constantly, persistently, endlessly.

Hate. He knew it was hate. Or cancer. He was not sure.

He coughed. His throat experienced a slight sore. He was not used to the cold breeze. He inhaled and exhaled deeply every day like a lifeline. Without the fresh air, he would die. His body told him so.

Faint footfalls of soles against pebbles were nearing him.

’Hmpf,’ He sighed. ’It’s her again.’

"Doctor. Asexual propagation is a success!" The woman spoke with delight.

He did not answer at that. She knew that her statement was expected by the Doctor. He knew that she knew that.

’She is smart,’ The man smiled.

He revered the minds of the people of achieving positive results of the first Asexual propagation of a fruit-bearing tree. It was done before the Nuclear World War, however, not after that.

They tested a Mango tree seedling. Asexually propagating it would accelerate its fruit production.

However, the asexual propagation was way different than before. Their plants were not normal. The Geneticists used DNA reconstruction to emulate that of a true plant.

All plants were dead after the Nuclear World War.

Growing one was impossible. They collected shards of the remnants of the living plants. Trunk barks, twigs, roots, leaves, and flowers all were collected and sampled.

They lab-tested everything with sheer hard work and faith. Until a miracle happened, a slight probability emerged from a series of failures. It was all they needed.

A 1% chance. It was only a matter of time.

Not to mention the collection of uncontaminated soil - a soil that consists of proper nutrients that would suffice growth. The Botanists had weeks of achieving sufficient planting materials, uncontaminated water, and recalibrating atmospheric levels to induce growth.

He admired the Geneticists. He admired the Botanists too.

Side-by-side, the odds of achieving the desired results are almost close to 90%.

It was not an easy feat. DNA reconstruction and a Botanical nursery despite radiation factors for plant growth was impossible for a feeble mind like him. But with them, everything was achievable.

A new Earth, as they preached.

The man thought that such professions were forgotten. He thought the world was hopeless. He thought that the only redemption was total annihilation. Ending the hate, ending the violence, and ending the evil.

He was wrong. He was always wrong since.

The man was always right before, admired by many. His hard work defines him as a professional Scientist. However, all of them, his colleagues, and subordinates, turned against him.

Unknowingly, the situation dictated a point of no return – to his death.

Blinded by everything else, while treachery grew larger and larger that it was uncontrollable. Vague dreams emerged every night that a snake bit him, and its fangs bore poison that delivered his unfortunate demise. If it was a dream or a memory, he was not sure.

The man was done.

He was tired before but now, renewed.

All remorse he wanted to just throw them away to where he sat.

"Aren’t you gonna watch the progress?" The woman asked from behind. She neglected the beauty of a picturesque view unlike the man, who had deep veneration almost as if one would dream of flying and tasting everything he sees.

"Why? I know it will work," the man replied without looking at her. He steadied his breathing. He knew the results already, hours before the commencement of the experiment.

He made the calculations. At last, they were right.

Finally, he hauled himself up. The glorious sun was now setting and the dark sea of clouds now shrouded with an orange hue.

He shook his head. But he had to leave.

"Let’s take a look shall we," He said as he finally turned his back from the sunset.

After a few steps, pressing deeper into the plateau, a large dome sat precariously at the center. He dragged his feet, like a child, against the Bermuda grass that heaved the mountain bed.

"Are you ok, Doctor?" The woman asked watching his childish behavior.

He smiled at the young woman.

’She grew so fast, the same age as him,’ He thought pondering the woman’s height.

"You seemed so quiet lately," The woman asked again.

"I am always quiet when I’m outside," He finally answered her. He had a heavy heart every time he strolled outside. Heavier every time the sun kissed the dark clouds.

"You never share why," she said again.

He shrugged at the statement.

’I know he is making a difference now. Sadly, he is always in danger. He should be here, with me,’ He thought as they continued to approach the dome.

Two large reinforced doors started to open, unpressurized. He almost missed what it felt like pressurized doors as they had in the surviving city. On the peak of Arcanium Mountain, there was no need. The air was uncontaminated.

His buddy, Greg, a geologist, explained the phenomenon to him why that particular peak had no contamination.

He admired the Geologist, too. They say he was the one who started the establishment of the camp. And everyone, including him, joined. But he was late.

He knew it was late. They were late.

The planet was beyond saving anymore. His project should have been the key to everything. But the thought of it clasped fear unto his soul.

"Thank you, Nina," The man mused and the woman smiled back.

As he entered with Nina, a burst of applause surprised him. His comrades were wearing their lab coats, all were facing him. Their smiles were authentic unlike what he had in the Corporation.

The scenery reminded him of home. In Bay City. When he was still a lowly Scrapper Scientist Tier 4. The warm applause grew louder, his tears were welling up his eyelids.

He smiled at them in return. He wanted to say something; however, he could burst into tears uncontrollably, embarrassing himself in front of many. They cheered for him. Secretly, the man was cheering for every one of them, as his gratitude towards his comrades was endless, invaluable.

"Project Nightfall is a success, Doctor. Thanks to you!

Hope?