Superbloom

They took volunteers first. Then there was a draft. Eco-suicides could stop the climate crisis, they said.

Screw it, Laurel thought. Maybe this is how I save the world.

Laurel volunteered.

Laurel had been living a zero waste lifestyle for decades. The plastic tags from her clothes nestled in a jar on her bookshelf like a bird's nest. Laurel hadn't bought toilet paper in years. She composted food scraps in a worm bin that conjured gnats in cursive clouds. She collected her own rainwater, commuted by bicycle.

But it wasn't enough. It was never enough.

When bees went extinct, people got worried. When environmental refugees rocketed into the billions, people panicked. But nothing changed. Things got worse, business as usual. Everything burned.

In her youth, Laurel took direct action. They called her an eco-terrorist and threw her in jail for six years. People wanted solutions that didn't disrupt the status quo. The world would end because no one could be bothered to stop it.

So here she was: volunteering for lethal injection. Laurel's only request was that they bury her remains in a suit of mushrooms and seedlings, no preservatives in her body, nothing wasted, everything given back to mother earth.

Their executioner swabbed her arm with alcohol, needle poised. "Anything to say?"

Laurel shrugged. "I thought I could save the world."

The needle stung, briefly, and Laurel drifted away.

#

Laurel opened her eyes, surprised at life.

She shook herself free of dirt and gazed at herself. Chlorophyl colored her skin green. Toxic buds bloomed behind her ears like flowers in her hair. She could hear trees speaking to each other beneath her feet in slow rhythms. And a voice underneath it all cried in agony.

"I hear you," Laurel said. "I'm here for you."