The Tree Regrower, by Nicolas Toper

Sarah Jackson -

You know me as the first tree regrower. We’ve repaired all the damage that has been done by the Evanescent City. Tomorrow, you will go there. To succeed, you need to know them. I’m from there. Let me tell you my story. I really hate thinking about who I was but you need this to succeed. Now shush and listen.

I used to live in Amina, the First Evanescent City. The city itself was ugly—mishy, moldy, and smelly—but it didn’t feel that way. I used to see the world only through the little screens in my eyes. They replaced the Real World with anything I wanted. In the Cyberworld, we had everything. That’s where we were really living.

That’s what we’ve always been told.
I couldn’t see anything missing.

My Cyberworld life was daring and adventurous. Every day, something fun and mysterious. Yesterday, I was a fearless princess, today a mighty warrior, and tomorrow a brilliant scientist. The colors were crisper here, and the feelings were so much more.

My Real World life was boring and sad. Nothing interesting ever happening. No sensation, no emotion.

That’s what we’ve always been told.
I couldn’t see anything missing.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I loved something real. A treasure box gifted by my grandmother with some bells and socks. Full of things from my ancestors: a die, a pinecone, some keys, a ramox. Touching any of these objects made me feel and live my ancestors’ lives. I guess it’s why I never was as much into the Cyberlife as my friends.

Owning real-world objects was discouraged in the City. They weren’t forbidden—it is not how Amina works—but you got weird looks if you had one with you. I’ve never brought the box into the City. I’ve buried it deep in the forest, next to a flock of sheep.

You see, once a week, we go to the forest. It’s our citizen’s duty. We go cut trees to power our glasses. It’s painless and fast. I used the visit to play with my box after I’d completed my duties, naturally. It was my secret.

I had to go to the forest to pick my box. The City was going to move soon. We do that when the forest is depleted. This is why we call Amina the Evanescent City. We have been taught that the forest’s trees and animals are not really alive. They are not sentients and can’t feel. They’re more machines than AI. 

That’s what we’ve always been told. 
That’s what we’ve always done.

For the first time, I left my glasses at home. What I saw was a punch in my heart—a depleted forest, bare and lifeless. This wasn’t on a screen. I could not wave my hand away from the pain for the first (and not the last) time in my life. This was death. This was real. We did it. And it was the first time.

I was in shock. I sobbed and cried for the trees. For the animals living with the trees. I fell asleep from the sadness. I was sad, so sad—very sad. It was the first Real-World emotion I felt, the first of many more—some good, some bad, but none as terrible as this one.

What have we been told?
How could we have been so wrong?

I awoke cold and hungry, a different person. A different person. A sapling had germinated from the pinecone in my treasure box (it was buried in the forest). My heart glowed. I felt warm and good. I nurtured it, watering, trimming, dedicating myself to this sapling and this feeling. I was anew.

That’s what we’ve always been told.
That’s not how we act now.

You know the rest of the story and how our organization grew and how much good it did. Yet, it all started because of this terrible, terrible sadness. Did it help understand who they are? Trust me, they’re not bad people; they’re just lost. We need to build bridges with them.

Before you go, is there anything you could give me for my treasure box? I’ve been adding objects to the collection.

Author’s note

This is the first short story I’ve ever written, and I’m thrilled to see it published. It was inspired by my experiences of adapting to the USA and how life is so different from France.

Nicolas Toper

Nicolas began writing after emigrating from France to the USA because he missed his home country. He seeks to explore what's left out in mainstream writing.