Next Door Data Read online

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  With morning came his sometimes deep emptiness. What was the point? People, him included, were an endless juvenile project. But his rage tagged along too, always there, smouldering. Combined, these feelings brought on other ideas—he could break rules, any rule. They sold firewood here, right? Leave the forest wood alone they said. Screw that. He walked out behind their campsite and picked up deadfall from the trees, smashing it to pieces with his ax. That felt good. He grabbed up a small dry log, feeling his two hands grasping it and then couldn’t keep from walking defiantly towards that next door generator. But before he got too close, he smashed the log across a live spruce, breaking it into fire pit sizes pieces. That felt real good, to smash, to crash, to release the rage. These goddamn people, everywhere around him. Politicians were doing nothing and citizens kept voting them in. As more of the same lurked on the horizon.

  He stomped off down the road away from their campsite, he had to. Leila would get breakfast for the girls. She had grown tolerant over the last years. He passed the campground edge and headed off to the lake. The helicopters in that dream ... choppers now flew over his favorite mountain hike, back close to the city. Ruining his peaceful hikes, and for no other reason than tourists wanting to go for a thrill seeking ride. This immature insanity was ubiquitous. He walked fast.

  He had to take care of his own, his family he thought at times. Basic instinct came down to survival. His tribe. With all people thinking that way, what would come about? That’s a sure sign of chaos setting in, when authority reverts to the more local. The historical downfall of previous civilizations revealed much. There was Easter Island and there had been the Anasazi at Mesa Verde. The collapse of the Roman Empire brought the feudal fiefdoms of European medieval times. No straight road was built for centuries. How to hide from the impending chaos, how to build a refuge to keep his daughters safe. A retreat from that backwards step. There had to be some way.

  His thing had always been data. Data! He could collect evidential data, he knew how on that one. He would tour the campground, marking each generator on the campground map. Yes, that he could do. And take a shot at turning his thinking in some unknown direction. His wife had mentioned the campground was almost all trailers and motor homes, almost no tents. He could carry out a simple survey, by counting up this campground data. Everything needed for a situational infographic.

  He wandered back to the campsite, driven to act.

  He grabbed his jPad with its digital grounds map and walked, snapping an image of each license plate number at each site with an active generator. They were easy to find—the morning sound a give-away homing signal. And excellent on-the-ground survey data, the type of people science that had always fascinated him. As he followed his route, he noticed the data highly confirming his wife’s observation. Trailers everywhere. He picked up on another interesting aside, tent campers tended to be younger but also more ethnically diverse—recent immigrants still climbing the consumer lifestyle ladder. The focus on data gathering at least brought on a level of calm.

  They made their way to the beach later, grabbing a picnic table and setting out towels in the sand. Others arrived, and he stared when he saw that next door neighbour family in the crowd. Why not bring along a hedge-trimmer and wack the grass along the edges of their beach blanket? Four children he counted, Christ! Don’t they know of the population pressure on the planet?

  He stood, and started walking towards the guy. He would punch him square in the head ... that would get attention. But in front of his family? And attention to what? OK, he could instead shake hands and start a bullshit conversation. He stopped, glancing at his feet, then up again. OK, really, they probably didn’t know. And they were following existing rules. He took a breath, relieved he hadn’t had a spray bomb. He knew from other survey data, that family size was typically associated with one or another religious belief, and outdated teachings on procreation. That would be a hint of their mindset. Women mostly made decisions on childbearing. And housing, come to think of it, like the tent or trailer decision. What do you do with something like this? The trailer did bring the family more comfort in a better shelter. These parents were looking out for their children with good family values. These people. The voting masses of a democracy. They were ... yes, like milling constituents. Yet needing a new political speech.

  All research told him the biggest barrier to action on climate change was political will. The coming election jumped into the ideas lineup. If he ran for office and got elected, then he would have a voice. Even a possible media voice if that voice was controversial. His anger certainly seemed to have a will of its own—he would campaign on a platform of outrage. A warning signal might catch attention—people paid attention to stories of danger. Bring science into politics. Speak the truth. The truth about generators, big trailers and how much life support was left in the planet. Raging around the campground snipping wires on generators would have little effect. And why should he voluntarily finance a Nikola aluminum oxide battery to share the unbelievably quiet auto experience only with his family? Any carbon he kept out of the atmosphere got dumped there by the average guy driving a monster truck to drag his mega-trailer around. His e-car lifestyle needed to be a media highlight. Regulation came from law makers, from political legislation. Bringing about policy change would have better, much bigger impact than a spray bomb. On his daughter’s future.

  He could talk to that professor on recent research he had seen. Theories on intentional cultural modification. Culture needs to be redesigned. Women having children, selecting housing and consumption, all that business of life. Biological evolution took way too long, that prof had stated, even if they had genetic engineering functional. A cultural shift could theoretically happen over a single generation. And that was barely available on the climate change schedule.

  Yes, politics would be a good start. He would call that party office Monday. His fall campaign for office would translate into the story people needed to hear. And why not watch the campgrounds as a proxy for change? The first thing to go would be generator noise, highly restricted by new rules and replaced by birds and children’s laughter. People needed to hear their children playing to the background of forest birds, not internal combustion engines dumping more climate altering damage into those children’s lives. This next door noise needed to rapidly become a part of the unwanted past.

  That evening they drove over to the e-car charge station along the highway for ice-cream. They had planned a little better that day, him scampering back to bring their propane stove and cooler to the beach side picnic table. Eating away from the campground had been a smart move. The Nikola charge gave a thousand kilometer range, but he knew charging when you could extended the battery life significantly. Care for your e-car and care for your planet while you enjoy an ice cream. Why not?

  The campaign brochure and posters lined up in pictures in his mind. Beside the campground infographic, the image of a happy family enjoying time at the recharge station. As the baby boomers had once glamorized the drive through food bar back in their times, now people would cheer on a lifestyle image of a conserved planetary future. One he knew, and many constituents would soon know they so needed. To live a lifestyle not worst, just different.

  End

  Discover other Writings by Les W Kuzyk

  If you like Next Door Data, consider reading Green Sahara and my novel Pinatubo II which follow oil field engineer Vince when he meets another engineer Brad in Niger, Africa. There they design geoengineering for the HICCC and seek out a political climate change solution.

  My soon to be published novel The Shela Directive follows youth in a speculative science fiction novel. The new adult characters in 2029 struggle with the social justice issue of the wealthy, of who owns the wealth and what wealth should really be used for. They had their needs met by the first woman president, but with her assassination each had their social world degraded in this near future urban setting.

  My short f
iction, A Future History of the Environment speaks to a global scenario of near future climate change as a new adult looks back on our next few decades and writes her university history exam in the year 2052.

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  Thanks!

  Les W Kuzyk

  About Les W Kuzyk

  Testing the waters of writing through a graduate university Anthropology and Religious Studies study, Les composed a thesis themed on a morals-based world order. Having thus learned of his passion for words and after publishing several non-fiction writings, he now focuses his writing voice on fiction. He has life experience with various cultures including the pura vida lifestyle of Costa Rica and the Polynesian culture of the South Pacific island nations. He lives with his Eastern European wife and daughter in Calgary.

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