You Forgot 'What If?' (Solarpunk Protopia Fiction)

Part 7: Want to See?

Strolling up to Bean Tower, I paused to take it in, and let Sinclair take it in, too. The sun was high in the sky now, shining on Beanie's silver, gleaming solar panels and the tangle of bean plants climbing in between, high into the sky. It truly was beautiful, and I got to call it home.

I raised both arms up towards the tower. "Here it is! As you probably already know, each of our towers has its own name, and we're, collectively, the Sink. But my tower--this tower--was one of the first, and it's called the Bean Tower."

Squinting up, Sinclair studied the tower, nodding.

"You probably guessed that the silver panels on the sides are solar panels. These models are exceptionally powerful, and they provide electricity to most of the building, and other buildings, too, on a good day. There's some on the roof, too, as well as some wind turbines," I continued. "In between the panels, you see those plants? That's where the Bean Tower gets its name. These bean plants require little water, they're super hardy, and they produce high-protein beans. They're a genetically-modified variation of a Pongamia tree, modified to grow more in a trellis environment, close to the substrate. Their water needs, in particular, make them remarkable, as well as their ability to withstand temperature--."

"What was the tree? Pon..." Sinclair had his little notebook out again.

"Pongamia," I repeated. Seeing his focus buried into his notebook, I realized suddenly, made me a little sad. I looked back up at the tower, and all the discovery, innovation, and humane beauty it represented. I wished he could see it like I did. "The plants go all the way up to the top. They're a part of an aquaponic system--similar to Sink Station--that also feeds fish. The water to the plants, that's also connected to the waste processing system in the towers. It supplies nitrogen and phosphorus to the plants, as well as the compost, which helps us recirculate valuable nutrients."

"That must be a sophisticated system." Sinclair kept writing as he approached the building, following slowly behind me. "I can imagine that requires a lot of maintenance."

"There is some maintenance, for sure," I replied. "A lot of it is automated, though. That takes a lot of the unpleasant or dangerous jobs out of the mix. Which is great for our aquaponic maintenance engineers--they monitors the levels, monitor the sensors, and, for the most part, very seldom have to do any serious overhauls." I chuckled, thinking of the last time that Amani Alyan had to unplug a clogged nozzle on the nutrient feeding network. On the ground, it would've been a completely uneventful happening. But, in the Bean Tower, she was suspended 15 floors above the ground, her brown body, criss-crossed with safety equipment, gleaming in the rays of the sun. At least 200 people came out to watch her carefully clean the aquaponic network that gave us life. The need for human intervention didn't happen often, but it certainly was a spectacle when it did happen.

"Pongamia trees--not just here, but on some of the other towers, too--provide a big part of the protein needs for our community," I went on as we strolled towards the doors. "We also have--"

"But the trees have a season, right? What do you do during the winter?" Sinclair asked, still scribbling.

"Yeah, they have a season, but the beans are also easy to dry. As long as they're dried, we can cook with them any time." As I opened the door, I passed him a look. He met it, his face as still as stoic as ever. "Didn't your mom or dad ever have a big bag of beans in the kitchen? Or rice? Or lentils?"

"I don't think so." He clicked his pen and closed his notebook as he entered Bean Tower.

"Huh." I shrugged and followed him inside. "Welcome to Bean Tower!"

Entering the ground floor, Sinclair took a long look around the wide open, sunny space. Four of the shops in our eyeline, as well as the Lil' Bean kiosk, were open now, with a few people strolling through and around them. The elevators, in the center of the tower, moved up and down in their clear tube, ferrying residents around the tower. Archways supported the ground floor of our tower, with wide windows on every wall, filling the space with natural light. Between the small shops, miniature gardens flourished in pots and planters, some vines and branches curling around the arches, sheltering huddles of cozy chairs, couches, tables and bean bags amidst the leaves and blossoms.

The sun had roused the indoor bees, beetles, and butterflies. Some of them were still very rare, only seen in a few places in the world, but they fluttered and buzzed happily around the room, unknowingly rebuilding their numbers in a safe place.

Three older women, seated at the sylvan alcoves nearest the Lil' Bean kiosk, chatted and sipped from wooden mugs. A large, blue butterfly landed on the colorful bandana tied around one woman's salt-and-pepper locs, its wings moving lazily, open and closed, blue and brown.

"Are these storefronts?" Sinclair asked, gesturing around the room with his pen.

"They are. Kinda." I watched a black-and-yellow-striped butterfly flit past and land on a thick stalk with yellow flowers.

"I thought there was no commerce here."

I looked back. "There isn't. Not really. Well, kinda, but these storefronts aren't actually storefronts."

He studied me for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't follow."

"Do you want to see?" I started towards the closest shop to my right, Chen's Weaving, and nodded for Sinclair to follow.