Our Dystopian Future?

I am not a fan of dystopian novels, at least those that don’t sprinkle a bit of sugar to brighten our outlook of the future’s possibilities. In 1990, David Brin’s novel, Earth, was published, painting a grim picture of the world our children and grandchildren will experience in 2040. Thirty years after publication, his prediction about the ravages of climate change reads more like today’s headlines than fiction. Yet, the book does offer hope and even redemption for our species.

This summer, Becca and I traveled west to New Mexico and Colorado. We went in early June, hoping to avoid the stifling heat and raging forest fires that have become all too common in the West. Our planning turned out to be an exercise in folly. Drought blanketed the land, and temperatures soared, turning the cool western breezes into a blast furnace. The endless vistas of the mountains, mesas, and canyons we were accustomed to seeing were obscured by brown haze from Arizona fires. Forests where we used to hike looked like cemeteries covered with blackened stumps, replacing the endless waves of pine trees that used to coat rugged mountains.

When we returned to North Carolina, we were both depressed, fearing the near future did not hold much promise for the Southwest, an area that has been our touchstone for over forty years. We took some solace knowing that our eastern forests still appeared green and vibrant. Here, we don’t fear “fire season” and rain is usually more than plentiful. This past week, however, the western fires found their way into the Blue Ridge Mountains. Our blue skies and distant views have been obscured by a thick haze, caused by western smoke journeying over two thousand miles before settling in our mountain valleys.

Is this our future world? Will our tales of pristine wilderness soon sound like a fairy tale? Brin’s future is rapidly approaching, and I feel helpless watching it happen. Soon, I hope I can find reasons for Brin’s optimism, but for now I feel like time has run out.