Blown Bridge Valley
by Les W Kuzyk
Thanks to the IFWA James Van Pelt 2014 critique workshop for reviews.
Copyright 2014 Les W Kuzyk
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Blown Bridge Valley
He voice activated Answer and his American friend Brad spoke fast.
“Vince. Listen Bud, I just got word your BC province is fielding no response. So that south highway closes real soon. Julia says maybe even tonight.”
“What? Where?” Brad’s wife Julia sat on the Valley Council. His fingers tightened on the j phone as he paced his Calgary townhouse kitchen floor.
“We don’t know—maybe at that ski hill town. I’d say decide now, you wanna be in or out. Like I told you, each valley will be autonomous.”
He knew no response from the old British Columbia government meant the province would not be interfering. He’d struggled with this choice before. Stay or leave. Live and work in the chaos of Calgary or chance an idealized life in a rural valley straddling BC and America. He shook off his inner trepidations as his anger rose.
“Christ! What about the Trans-Canada?”
“You should be on top of that. You live up there.”
“Yeah right.” The latest news Vince heard reported Ottawa so disconnected from the West the federal government was out of the picture. In the real world it was Greater Vancouver about to snip another connection with Alberta. Another move in the drama dividing the prairies and the coastal western mountains.
“C’mon Vince, you gotta decide.” He could picture the relentless beam on Brad’s face. “Your Thanksgiving was last weekend, right? So our One Valley joint committee voted for this low traffic moment. We take over choke points on the highways—river bridges, mountain passes. Come spring, the Pacific NW Valleys project will be official.”
“You talking to Council?” He knew an established border would mean an application to immigrate. And that could mean a years-long wait or a flat out application denial. Who knew what Calgary would look like by then? This might be his last chance to choose the valley. Staying meant an ongoing struggle adapting to climate change disruption.
“Julia’s on our South Valley Council, and you know how we really want the One Valley to go through. She’s talking to your guys all the time.”
“Yeah...shit,” he said softly. “Annalise just started grade 12.”
“Josh and Jimmy have high school too, Vince. I dunno about there but public education here is a joke. Hey man, school will be a lot better through our new network. Think community, real community. Now’s the time.”
Vince’s daughter was already on optional distance learning to keep away from the turmoil in her Calgary high school. Distance learning was technically there, still, he often questioned the teaching value. And there was a real choice to be made here on her face-to-face social needs. Not only his daughter’s career future was on the line but her total life. His career was a mess having dropped oilfield contracts for environmental work.
The gangs Annalise talked of, the ones infiltrating her school were now organizing swarms right out of the classroom. That fit with media coverage of the growing waves of urban delinquency. The latest were gangs of young men, some girls too, in home-armoured vehicles roaming out of the city to hit the wealthy countryside. Those first caught ended up in Young Offenders but they were quickly replaced. Thieving and drugging, not caring, they tested defiance against the latest City Police mini-drones. Annalise carried pepper spray—all girls at school did she said—and she had four years of street-smarts martial arts. She could name two boys from her school now dead. When a once wealthy Canadian city like Calgary becomes so unstable it must be time to try something new. Like Brad’s valley—better go now.
“Alright Brad. Can we stay in touch texting?”
“Sure. We cross the state line early morning, so we’ll be there by sunrise. C’mon Vince. The longer you wait, the harder it’ll be to get in. Maybe harder to get anywhere.”
Vince had returned from that geoengineering project exhausted yet excited. He met Brad there in the African Sahel. Maybe out of different engineering schools but it turned out they had a lot in common. In their late thirties then, here they were a decade later still in contact. Brad was the only one he knew who looked knowingly at the climate change crisis with such a grin. Many others simply lived in denial. That same grin had been on Brad’s face in any test balloon back in Niger when he’d talk on his plan for a worst case climate change scenario.