Final Tree
Re-growing the world one branch at a time
Scanning the silent facility, she drew her slimline saw and began to cut, her hand feeling the soft bite of titanium into wood.
Thump.
The limb fell neatly into the bag, and she had it closed and flung over her back before the leaves could even finish rustling in protest.
“Sorry,” she muttered, heading for the window. Avoiding the broken glass, she vaulted out into the cool air of night, sprinting along the second-floor balcony.
Not that it could hear her- it was an ordinary tree.
At least, that’s what she’d been taught. Big brown trunk, gnarly branches hanging like over-extended android arms, and tiny green leaves sticking up like miniscule solar panels, flat and stretching for the sun.
No-one her age had ever seen a real one until now. It felt almost wrong to remove a branch, sacrilegious even. But now was no time to discover morals.
The last tree on Earth had sprouted for the first time in fourteen years.
Orders were clear- obtain a graft at all costs.
Three guards, three darts, and a clear path to the roof. Diving off, she activated her hover-pack, heading for the coast.
Time to grow a tree.
About the Creator
Joe O’Connor
New Zealander living in London
Teacher of English and History, and sport-lover
Mostly short stories and poems📚
Feel free to be honest- one constructive comment beats a hundred generic ones
Currently writing James The Wonderer
Comments (2)
Loved this microfiction! Great idea for a story. Well executed. Congratulations!
Great story. Made me smile. Congrats on your win, may there be many more