Konsk: The Great Takeover of the Place.

49. Trueman goes West.

• Air

• Water

• Earth

• Bio-mass

• Bio-diversity

Konsk. Appendices: Five essential environmental criteria.

They headed west, Trueman and Rhia walking on either side of the sturdy pony, Toby, all, including the pony, with wide brimmed shade hats against the heat and glare of the sun, now climbing a clear blue sky that paled to white at the horizon. At first they exchanged occasional somewhat sheepish glances across Toby's shaggy mane; after all, they had both been somewhat deceptive with each other during their last journey.

On the one hand, Trueman was embarrassed that he had found his own granddaughter attractive, yet on the other he was immensely proud of the confident young woman striding out beside him. Plus, the very fact that he had a granddaughter kept bringing a smile to his face. So, his daughter, the once little Catti of the fluttering lashes was a mother! It fair brought a warm glow to the cockles of his heart; and there was the chance he was to meet up with her again, quite soon, hopefully.

Pretty soon they were laughing and joking as Rhia gave her grandfather a detailed account of her rich and varied history and her Mother's crucial part in the spread of the cantrefi culture. He also learned from Rhia that Catti had brought the Alt-Tech Centre to it's metaphorical knees. Having been responsible for much of the domes internal control systems, she'd triggered a full lock down, or lock in, allowing time for the arrival of National Security officers and troops who detained all the principle personnel, including Manson and brought in medical teams to provide support for the newly liberated Volley's, though it must be said that some did indeed resent their disconnection from the net.

Their route this time was not the same as their previous one and followed a different river system up towards the distant hills and mountains. Here, the soils of the once rich lowlands had been exploited for cereals for several centuries, their natural fertility exhausted and replaced by chemical fertilisers. When those had become too expensive to use, in terms of both energy and money, some landowners had resorted to cattle, grazing impoverished fields; an old story, according to Rhia. Now these fields were suffering from drought; bare, cracked soil showed through sparse grasses, bleached yellow, thin cows, their hips clearly visible, stood listlessly as people cut branches from the few trees for emergency fodder.

This took the gaiety out of their talk and as the day wore on towards noon and the heat increased, this was diminished further, for the signs of environmental stress became more and more apparent.

They ascended gradually and this brought some relief as Rhia pointed out how parts of the low land had been returned to flood plains and silt carried down in storm water had the chance to settle out on the land, catching essential nutrients that would otherwise have been carried down to the sea. Here the drought was not yet as severe, the deeper soils able to hold more water; there were still traces of green in the grasses.

From their higher vantage, Trueman could also see that more people were appearing on the lower routes.

"Refugees," Rhia answered his query, "From the Middle Land cities and beyond. Their food and water supplies are slowly failing and they've had enough of the corporate pressures."

Trueman gave her a quizzical look and she continued.

"Most of the large scale farming systems collapsed when the support payments ended and the chemical fertilizers became too energy expensive. Local authorities were empowered to enlist land battalions for the safeguarding of food production for the duration of the climate emergency," She laughed, somewhat bitterly, "As though there is an end in sight."

It was the first time Trueman had seen anything in her attitude that might hint at despair.

"A lot of them chose to work through the Corporations as they were the ones with the money. The first conscripts were drawn from immigrant communities and the unemployed, to begin with. They were housed in temporary accommodation on-site during the week and released at the weekends, though this was left up to the local coordinators to decide. A fair few of them thought a continuous occupation was better.

"The emergency legislation had provisions for forcibly enrolling further the battalions, all in the interests of safeguarding food production. This time round from so-called non essential professions, like arts and entertainment. Conditions in the camps are not good so plenty just do a runner."

From their height, Trueman looked down onto the scattered, straggling column. He could imagine they would include a great variety of backgrounds and experiences, individuals, families, groups. Perhaps criminals, gangs?

"How do you manage them all?" He asked, baffled.

"We don't," she responded, bluntly. "Too many, so triage." She went on, "The cantrefi have to be very selective and some folk are just not ready to integrate into an anarchist system, so they get separated into different streams. Most get diverted into more conventional camps run by the usual aid donors. They'll get some re-education, training, trauma therapy, detox. There's plenty of basic, practical work they can be given to begin with and they get fed regularly, which is more than a lot of them got before." She paused before going on, "But some are just too far gone to help."

"And what happens to them?" Trueman had to ask.

Rhia went quiet and walked for some time with her head down, as if wondering how to frame an answer. Apparently she gave up, shook her head and looked across at him.

"You'd best ask your old friend about that," she said. "Spicer."

A tremor ran through the INCO body. That doesn't sound like a happy solution, Trueman thought. He couldn't see a violent, biker thug with criminal tendencies being beneficial, in any situation.

They moved on, gradually upwards, the valley side of planted woods, managed for their many products, on this southern aspect filled with people and gardens, greener still, incorporating a variety of water management strategies. Trueman learned that the division of land along contours, or close to contours, was particularly useful in that run-off from intense rainfall could be more easily slowed and infiltrated into the soils, where most water was actually stored, or redirected into ponds, lakes or marshes.

He nodded, thoughtfully; that made sense of all the difficulty he had experienced trying to move downhill when he escaped from the First Of Many cantref, all those fences, hedges and other barriers he had encountered. Though now he knew that he hadn't really escaped after all, they'd simply let him go. That was another slightly bitter pill to swallow but he did so.

Still the heat increased, despite the shading roadside trees and cooler, moister air rolling down through the wooded valley sides; it was still like walking in an oven, he thought, wiping sweat from his eyes. They drank water frequently from a bottle they passed between them.

“We'll stop soon,” Rhia said, sensing his increasing discomfort. “No point trying to go on through midday."

She turned Toby off into a small, heavily shaded clearing, bounded on one side by a pool fed from a stream that was reduced to just a trickle. There they ate.

An opening between the trunks out to the east and their raised position on the valley side meant they had a long view across the lowlands. Trueman remarked on the black stains on the distant hills, shimmering in the haze, and a column of smoke

“Fires sites,” Rhia explained. “We're getting increasingly dry springs and early summers with prolonged droughts. Vegetation dies back and gets tinder dry so the risk of fire increases every year. It doesn't take much to start it off, a piece of broken glass, carelessness with a barbecue, sometimes its even deliberate, though that's much less than it used to be; the damage they cause is really obvious and people are harsh with arsonists.

“That smoke's from a fire that kicked off a week ago, climbed up the valley side really fast but then stalled in a headwind on the upland plateau. Unfortunately its dug into the peat and its been smouldering there since then; if we get a change in wind direction it could easily flare up again.”

Above them, Rhia said, the uplands fulfilled various essential functions including carbon sequestration, water management, bio-mass production and many others as well as including genuine reserves where seed might be gathered and research conducted. Apparently they loosely followed a threefold division of land proposed by some ancient natural forester of the old country.

They waited for several hours, dozing and occasionally talking and only went on after the worst of the heat but it was still hot; too hot, thought Trueman. The vegetation, though green, had a pale, limp look to it, many plants becoming inactive at this temperature. Illusions of water rippled up ahead in the hollows on the path, only to fade and vanish as they neared. The air smelt of dry dust that rose from their footsteps and the wheels of the cart. Any more distant views that appeared, shimmered in heat hazes.

Remarking on the lack of other travellers on this route, Rhia described the cantrefi as developing and practising a stay-at-home culture.

“Minimises energy use,” she said, “and reduces the transmission of diseases. We try to create most of what we need within walking distance of where we live, trade for the rest.”

They took a fork in the road, a gentle incline that gradually climbed higher. Below, Trueman could see a succession of water wheels following the river, now all stationary in the greatly reduced flow.

“We'll have to stop here for a bit,” Rhia announced. “I need to pick up some shopping.

She unhitched Toby and turned him loose in a small paddock at the road side, shaded by trees. Rhia watched and chuckled as the pony managed several small bucks, even in this heat and one larger four-legs-of-the-ground prance before his legs buckled and he collapsed into a roll.

“You know this area well then?” Trueman asked.

“Not really,” she said, collecting a shoulder bag from the caravan, “Just read the signs.”

She pointed to a tall log by the paddock gate. Various fungi had sprouted from it in damper times but now were shrivelled. On top of the log were several coloured stones and a small carved horse. Along the hedge was an opening and here, on the top of a large, flat stone, was a small collection of vegetables and fruit, some of which were more recent than others. Trueman thought a bird or squirrel had been having a go at an apple.

above: biological resources- photo by Chris Evans.

Somewhat bemused, he followed his granddaughter up a narrow path between small enclosures bounded by low vegetation. In each one, the ground had been ridged across the slope and seemed to be covered in leaf litter, the ridges lined with plants, still a lush green, even in the heat. Trueman, could see that the hollows between the ridges were damp, as if freshly irrigated. He could imagine how water introduced higher up could be flowed down through the whole system under the action of gravity.

He was roused from his thoughts by the appearance of a shaded stall, the broad table displaying wooded trays containing various quantities of different vegetables, some of which Trueman could not recognise.

“The warmer climate means we can grow a wider variety of stuff from your day,” Rhia said, as she placed a selection in her shoulder bag.

She took a last look at the offerings, made a final choice, like a long, black radish, thought Trueman.

"Good for grating into salads," she explained and turned to go.

Trueman looked around, surprised and slightly worried.

“Don't we have to pay someone?” He asked.

Rhia laughed.

“No! Not necessary. Whenever we can we use the old economy, the original one, the gift economy. I've got some surplus to leave though.”

She rummaged in a side pocket to the bag and pulled out two books.

With Toby once more harnessed they set out again on the gentle incline before reaching another more level way. Here they passed various dwellings, some sited individually, others clustered together, of a great variety of shapes and types of manufacture though it was clear to Trueman that all were of materials that could be obtained locally.

Timber featured predominantly, no doubt sawn and finished in the mills below but there was also stone and rammed earth. Glass seemed to be the only material that would have to be imported from another area. The south facing, larger windows were shaded from the summer sun by the overhanging roofs and verandas but would still allow low winter light to penetrate.

Some of the occupants were outside and seemed busy on various activities though Trueman was at first at a loss to decide what these activities were. People just seemed to be pottering about in what looked like miniature jungles close to their dwellings, swathes of plants banked up to trap the sun, like solar collectors. Then he realised with a start that he was looking at personal food production systems, like versions of Dawn's maze garden back in his old time but now he could understand that the apparent chaos masked an underlying complexity of beneficial relationships, a gardening strategy mimicking natural systems.

Rhia noticed his gaze.

"At first, a lot of people used to come out to see the gardens. Of course, once they did they wanted to grow their own so the first old country task was education. Some visitors stayed, others took the gardening back to the city."

What a contrast, he thought, between this and his own abortive attempts at gardening, that had ended so disastrously in environmental destruction. Oh, what a fool, he thought.

Then he was encouraged to see a small group of people sitting at a shaded, trestle table, working with pieces of electronic equipment. He slowed to watch. He could see there was an element of salvage and repair going on, possibly the repurposing of older devices. A young woman was fitting some circuitry to what looked like a pair of goggles. She held them up to her eyes and started to laugh, then passed them to her neighbour, an older man. He took a look and also laughed before passing them back so she could make some minor adjustment. She noticed Trueman watching and gave him a little wave. He started from his reverie and replied in kind, in a rather constrained manner, then hurried to catch up with Rhia.

In the next opening an old man was weaving a child’s cot from peeled, white willow. Trueman had never been much of a fan of the art and crafts movement but he had to admit the work looked both practical and quite beautiful. Further on, a woman, speaking clearly in a language he was not familiar with, walked a small circle in a clearing while a clean shaven man, a pad on his knees, made a pattern with his fingers that matched her words.

He caught up with Rhia and they turned onto another incline, slowly climbing again, this time the valley curving more to the north. The number of dwellings diminished and as the trees closed in above their narrower road, Rhia sniffed and brought Toby to a stop, standing very still and staring blankly.

“Are you alright?” Trueman asked. “You look worried.”

“Oh, yes," she seemed to snap out of it. "I'm fine. Just, I can smell smoke.”

She seemed to go inside herself again and Trueman realised she was listening to someone else. All he heard was her end of the conversation.

“Yes, that's what I thought.” A pause, then, “Direction? And speed...That's not so good. OK, keep me updated, please...Thanks.”

"Fire risk is high," She said to Trueman, then ruffled Toby's mane, "Soon be home, boy,"

Trueman was surprised. "I thought you said we had a long way to go?"

"We have but not him," she explained. “He’s nearly home, I only borrowed him. Besides, there’s a heat dome building up and its gonna be far too hot for him to work." she paused, "And too dangerous. We' might need to be able to move more freely, cross country if need be."

Trueman, eyeing the comfort and shade on the front of the cart, couldn't keep the disappointment out of his voice.

"Walking, then." He muttered.

"Oh no," Rhia laughed, "I've arranged some alternative transport for us both."

She sounded as if she was concealing a joke.

Thanks for reading and a warm welcome to new subscribers! For those new to Konsk and wondering what’s going on, you can find some explanations and a chapter list here. The delay in continuing with the patafiction has been down to me just not being completely sure about the next few chapters, so I am very open to feedback and suggestions. Till next time, take care all. Hywl! Chris.