A different flame

“Fire Day! Fire Day!” Roger sang, other children who joined. Elo decreased to place. She was already afraid of today’s task, and Roger had to make everything worse.

“Stop it!” Their teacher, Mrs. Hernandez, cracked as she walked into the room.

“But finally the end of the unit is 2036!” Roger bounced from excitement. His father was the captain of the Orbital, and Roger regularly stated that he would be a captain one day too. His family held the command of the launch of the orbit. “And that is ‘Fire Day’. He says that on the layer. We know what’s going on. The gold oak burns. “

He spent months for months, studying what happened on Earth almost one century ago, carefully examining a California city through videos, paintings, diaries and news. Elo could recite the names and life stories of dozens of inhabitants. She knew and loved their pets. Although she logically realized that everyone in the city was dead, she felt like he was losing dear friends.

“Yes, we know that the city burns,” Mrs. Hernandez said with patience, Elo admired, “but that is not something to celebrate. You have studied climate change through his effects on this one place so you can understand what individuals endured – what your own families endured, wherever they lived then.”

Mrs. Hernandez tried so hard to break up to the class, but a few weeks ago, the rest quietly declared the studio “stupid and boring”. That history was boring. That country was boring and dirty, a place for too poor people to escape to the orbitals. A few days ago, Roger commented, “We could also study the contents of the garbage can.”

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Elo knew the country had problems, big. Ponekad su tajfuni, požari i ratne štete bili vidljivi iz prozora njihove učionice. Her parents said, too often, that they were fortunate to live where they did. Elo loved her home orbit. She never knew anything else.

But the earth was where humanity came from. That was important. He had to. Just as the golden oak was important.

The soft tone signaled the beginning of the lesson. Pictures and voices of 100 years ago were filtered through Elo -ov neural implant and filled her vision.

The fire began lightning in the canyon outside the city. The shots showed smoke and chaos, wind and flame speed. Covered, 80-year-old Annadee Williams fled with a cat trailer attached to her chest with both hands. Brothers and sisters Maria, Raymond and Aaron just returned home from school when they had to escape from the canyon home on bicycles, which were soon rolled up after the burning grass caused the rubber tires to be melted.

“We’re okay,” Maria told her mother when they later reunited at the Evakuation Center. They lost everything, but they still had each other. Their smiles were fluttering but honest.

“Now, start with the first question.” The voice of Mrs. Hernandez, though soft, felt like a intrusive scream. “Why was the gold oak abandoned after the fire?”

This answer is stated in the conclusion: if people had been renewed, they would not have been able to get home insurance, which means that if the city burns again or another bad thing happened, people would lose everything without any compensation. Elo transcribed her answer with concentrated thoughts, tears in her eyes and continued until the next, and next. Other children started leaving, finished. She continued on.

As she mentally handed over the exam, she became aware that she was the last sitting. Mrs. Hernandez stood over her. “Are you okay, elo?”

“Not really. No,” she said quietly.

“It’s okay that it’s wrong.”

Elo shook her head, unable to articulate her feelings. “The gold oak died. People have died! I am so angry with the others, that they don’t care.”

“You can’t force people to care.” Her smile was sad. “That is why it is even more important to do, as lonely as it can. Compassion is power, especially if you support it with the action.”