for a specific strain of grain-eating beetle, the chemical was intended to not only eradicate a large segment of the parasite population, but to remain inert within those birds and bugs that ate the remaining survivors. It was hoped that those predators would then continue to excrete the pesticide, the chemical having attached itself to the animal’s cellular structure, and therefore ensure the eternal extinction of the grain-eating beetle.
In a horrible sense, HF-16 worked. It did attach itself at a cellular level, and any organism that absorbed it did continue to secrete the chemical through any form of elimination, from bodily waste to fallen hair to saliva-soaked chewing gum. Unfortunately, it proved toxic to a large number of organisms, including people, farm animals, and most of the bird population. It also proved to be quite resistant to decontamination, which was why the water system of Flowertown had been completely contained. City and county water mains were diverted, sewage lines internalized. A ring three miles wide around Flowertown had been completelyburned and sterilized with a combination of herbicides and decontaminants as well as high-frequency jamming waves, to prevent any wildlife from sneaking out with the dangerous chemical. Anything that made it to Flowertown had a very difficult time getting out.
This included any type of pollution. Open burning within the confines of the spill zone was prohibited, and containment engineers had even tried to enforce a no-smoking ban for the first six months before they realized there were limits to human cooperation. Litter was strictly controlled, hundreds of people employed simply to pick up scraps of paper and wads of gum, lest they blow out of the containment field. Recycling was mandatory, and packaging on incoming supplies was legally required to be kept at an absolute minimum. The end result of all this containment and legislation was that Flowertown, the most contaminated place on earth, was also the most environmentally progressive. It was an irony that was only amusing for the first year or two.
A tall, skinny kid with bad skin was scraping peeling paint off the yellow curb Ellie walked along. She wouldn’t have noticed him if he hadn’t stuck his arm out before her.
“Hey, Ellie, right? You carrying?” She shook her head. He was looking to buy some pot and must have met her sometime she was with Bing. “I heard Bing’s got some good stuff right now. Tell him to call me, okay?”
“Yeah, I will.” Ellie kept walking, not bothering to get the kid’s name, much less his number. Bing knew everyone in Flowertown, at least all the pot smokers, whose numbers had grown exponentially over the years. Boredom, anxiety, and the nausea-inducing maintenance medications mademarijuana a household staple, and since none of it could leave the spill zone anyway, the law turned a blind eye to its commerce. As Bing had wisely crooned one night, “The opiate of the masses has finally become an actual opiate.” She patted her pocket, feeling the bag Bing had thrown at her earlier still tucked away there. It was strange, she thought as she pulled open the door to an unmarked bar, that Mr. Carpenter hadn’t insisted on patting her down.
The noise within the bar blew her thoughts from her head. Some basketball game was on the big screen behind the bar, and whoever was playing mattered a great deal to the gang gathered before it. Ellie groaned, the sounds within the small room seeming louder than usual. She made her way to the far corner of the bar and waved to the bartender for a tall draft. The girl behind the bar nodded and held up an empty shot glass, silently asking Ellie if she also wanted her customary shot of bourbon. Ellie shook her head. She was getting a headache and could feel the two pills she had swallowed on an empty stomach turning into something bitter and foul. It looked like the quality of life meds, or QOL, as they were labeled, were going to be
In a horrible sense, HF-16 worked. It did attach itself at a cellular level, and any organism that absorbed it did continue to secrete the chemical through any form of elimination, from bodily waste to fallen hair to saliva-soaked chewing gum. Unfortunately, it proved toxic to a large number of organisms, including people, farm animals, and most of the bird population. It also proved to be quite resistant to decontamination, which was why the water system of Flowertown had been completely contained. City and county water mains were diverted, sewage lines internalized. A ring three miles wide around Flowertown had been completelyburned and sterilized with a combination of herbicides and decontaminants as well as high-frequency jamming waves, to prevent any wildlife from sneaking out with the dangerous chemical. Anything that made it to Flowertown had a very difficult time getting out.
This included any type of pollution. Open burning within the confines of the spill zone was prohibited, and containment engineers had even tried to enforce a no-smoking ban for the first six months before they realized there were limits to human cooperation. Litter was strictly controlled, hundreds of people employed simply to pick up scraps of paper and wads of gum, lest they blow out of the containment field. Recycling was mandatory, and packaging on incoming supplies was legally required to be kept at an absolute minimum. The end result of all this containment and legislation was that Flowertown, the most contaminated place on earth, was also the most environmentally progressive. It was an irony that was only amusing for the first year or two.
A tall, skinny kid with bad skin was scraping peeling paint off the yellow curb Ellie walked along. She wouldn’t have noticed him if he hadn’t stuck his arm out before her.
“Hey, Ellie, right? You carrying?” She shook her head. He was looking to buy some pot and must have met her sometime she was with Bing. “I heard Bing’s got some good stuff right now. Tell him to call me, okay?”
“Yeah, I will.” Ellie kept walking, not bothering to get the kid’s name, much less his number. Bing knew everyone in Flowertown, at least all the pot smokers, whose numbers had grown exponentially over the years. Boredom, anxiety, and the nausea-inducing maintenance medications mademarijuana a household staple, and since none of it could leave the spill zone anyway, the law turned a blind eye to its commerce. As Bing had wisely crooned one night, “The opiate of the masses has finally become an actual opiate.” She patted her pocket, feeling the bag Bing had thrown at her earlier still tucked away there. It was strange, she thought as she pulled open the door to an unmarked bar, that Mr. Carpenter hadn’t insisted on patting her down.
The noise within the bar blew her thoughts from her head. Some basketball game was on the big screen behind the bar, and whoever was playing mattered a great deal to the gang gathered before it. Ellie groaned, the sounds within the small room seeming louder than usual. She made her way to the far corner of the bar and waved to the bartender for a tall draft. The girl behind the bar nodded and held up an empty shot glass, silently asking Ellie if she also wanted her customary shot of bourbon. Ellie shook her head. She was getting a headache and could feel the two pills she had swallowed on an empty stomach turning into something bitter and foul. It looked like the quality of life meds, or QOL, as they were labeled, were going to be
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