LUNGS OF THE EARTH
“Fuck trees,” Cassandra Darnet, President of the UN Economic Council said as she scowled at the devastated wastelands of the Amazon basin from a hill studded with charred tree stumps. “We got a shitload of energy around us. Sun. Waves. Wind. It’s everywhere. We can stop being dumb, lazy bastards and make oxygen ourselves!”
It wasn’t the statement most historians would wish to quote verbatim, but it was one of the most important ever uttered. Those expletive-laden words marked the start of a global revolution of the human system known as the ‘Post-Natural’ age.
“Error in oxygen capture chamber three,” said Rena in her frustratingly calm voice.
Eric grappled himself upright and wiped dribble from his chin. Data scrolled across the blurry retinas of his sleep-crusted eyes. His brain felt for the right gear.
“Error resolved,” Rena said with passive smugness.
Eric blinked himself free of the optical projection and slumped back into his chair.
“Why do I even exist?”
“Do you actually want me to answer that?” asked Rena.
For six hundred and thirty-eight days straight, Eric had been failing to respond to technical glitches on OCEAN Farm number BF-02438-C quicker than Rena, or rather the algorithm Rena’s voice represented. He only had one farm to manage, Rena had more than fifty million blanketing most of the habitable surface of the ocean, yet she always beat him to the punch.
“It’s time for your rounds,” Rena said.
Eric sighed and pulled himself up. He stepped into a metallic chamber where a pair of latex suits hang on the wall. After slipping into the larger of the two, he climbed into the sterilisation chamber and mindlessly ran
