She stood in the middle of the field, the drying corpses of a million flowers surrounding her. In the distance she saw the tower rising from the ground, a metallic spire of mans ingenuity, and beyond that scores of greenhouses and their attendants.
The ground crunched behind her and she turned to see a hooded figure approach, covered from head to toe in thick grey fabric. She smiled and waved her greeting, yet could see through the Perspex mask that they were none to happy to see her.
"Gayle, as much as I love you-"
She could see his mouth moving, but his voice came from a small speaker located below his throat with a hint of synthetics. It was his usual speech, so she just watched the emotions play across his face, starting with anger, slowly turning to disappointment, before fading into acceptance.
"-because I love you, and I don't want that to happen to you. Please?"
Gayle smiled, and took his gloved hand, the fabric mostly smooth to the touch apart from a slight abrasive texture on the palms, "I love you too, Ian."
He smiled, before furrowing his brow as he realised she hadn't answered his request.
"Gayle-" his synthetic voice was once more projected into the still afternoon air before he found himself cut off.
"Run with me!" Gayle tugged on his hand and started running towards the greenhouses and the tower and he had no choice but to follow, calling out his protests to her ever unresponsive back.

The greenhouses loomed huge around them as they walked down the paths, a gentle buzzing emanating from each building as they passed. Gayle shivered as a breeze swept past them, chilling her to the bone and ruffling her hair. She turned and looked at the tower standing proudly behind them, and shuddered as its structure caused the paths before them to darken in shadow. Workers passed them, covered head to toe in the grey fabric, soft synthesised voices filling the air.
A few stopped to look at Gayle as she passed, but quickly hurried away, closing themselves into the buildings.
"Must we take this path?" Ian asked, with arms around her shoulders in an effort to protect her from the cooling air.
She nodded in response, as she walked close to the transparent walls of the greenhouses, trailing her fingers upon the slightly warm glass.
"I like to watch them." She muttered, as she watched the bees and butterflies fly off into the deeper recess of the room as her fingers passed over the glass they were alighted on. "It's nice to be reminded"
"Oh! So you like to be reminded of them, but you don't like to be reminded of the harm you're doing yourself. So typical." He sighed, as he continued to allow himself to be dragged forward.
Gayle stopped and turned, placing her bare hand upon his cold mask. "I would rather die than live in a box, Ian. We created this hell, and thus we should live in it." She turned from him, her face empty, and she let go of his hand and started to walk again.
"Gayle, please." He reached out for her hand and held it between his. "Don't be like this, please."
Her eyes drifted from his own, down to her small hand engulfed by the thick grey fabric of his overalls. "Do you remember a time when this used to be intimate? When two people could hold hands and their skin would actually touch?" She removed her hand from his grip, and folded her arms, pressing her hands beneath her armpits. "I do."

The door slid closed behind them, and she felt the slight change in pressure in the room as the environmental and pollutant controls were activated. Ian unzipped his overalls and they slid to the ground, before being carefully placed on the hanger beside the door. The phone was ringing but Gayle had run to the bathroom, vomiting violently, ignoring its piercing tone.
He grabbed the small handset just as it stopped ringing and he cursed as he redialled the number.
"Mr Goodman? That was quick!"
"Yeah, you hung up before I could answer. What can I help you with, John?"
"I saw you down at the greenhouses today, just wanted to know if there's a problem?"
"No, no problem, just Gayle wanting to have a wander, see how they were doing."
"Yeah about that, some of the workers have complained sir, they don't like the fact she walks around unsuited."
"Neither do I John, but she given this is her farm,” Ian’s shrug was almost audible, “if the workers don't like it that's their problem."
"Understood. Well, I better get back to it. Oh, and I'll have that report to you on Friday."
"Thanks John, see you later."
Ian cancelled the call, and threw the small mobile down upon the lounge, as Gayle walked back into the room, clutching at her stomach and wiping the corner of her mouth with a red tinted towel.

"Gayle, we need to talk."
They sat at the dinner table, their humble meals in front of them illuminated by a flickering florescent light.
"I got a call from John today, about the workers."
She glanced up from her small plate and quirked a brow, "is everything alright?"
"They're complaining again. About you."
Metal rang against porcelain as Gayle threw her fork down into her bowl, spraying the table with the thin soup.
"My God Ian, can you just shut up!"
His eyes widened and jaw slackened at her response and he reached out across the table to touch her hand.
"Don't touch me!" She stood up abruptly and spun away from the table. “Just, for god’s sake Ian! Can’t you see how pointless this is! We can’t live like this!”
He stood and walked around the table, reaching out to her, “Please Gayle, we really need to talk about this. It’s for your health as much as the workers peace of mind.”
“Their peace of mind?” Her body went limp, the fight already faded, as a tear rolled down her cheek and she slid into a chair. “What about my peace of mind Ian? They have to put up with a crazy woman who doesn’t suit up, oh poor them. How about that crazy woman who had to watch as each season her crops grew smaller and smaller, and her pride, her bee hives, grew less productive as each bee failed to find its way home. What about me, Ian? This farm used to be beautiful.” She gestured out the window, to the flat stretch of land standing in the shadows of the greenhouses and the tower.
Ian came around and stood behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders, massaging them gently. “I know Gayle, I remember. But look at the beauty you have created instead, you have the greenhouses, and you’re the owner of one of the largest pollinating insect colonies in the state. Isn’t that something to be proud of? Isn’t that something to make wearing the suit worth it?”
She reached up and squeezed his hand, “Too little too late.”

The sun set behind the distant structures and she sat on the porch, a cold beer in her hand.
“Can I join you?” His synthetic voice spoke softly, as he sat next to her, the grey of his suit matching her mood.
“Better now than never.” Gayle tried to smile as she watched him adjust himself in the small bamboo seat next to hers. He glanced at her beer with hunger, but she knew better than to offer him a sip when he was suited up. She turned from him, and let her eyes wander over the naked fields.
Silence sat lightly between them as they watched cars driving away from the greenhouses, workers leaving for the day, small black dots in the distance being engulfed by their machines before zooming across the horizon.
Ian coughed, as he stared at the tower reflecting the last remnants of the suns light, “You’re dying aren’t you? That’s why you don’t wear the suit anymore.”
“We all make our sacrifices, Ian.” Her voice was flat with the acceptance of her fate.
“A hulking piece of metal wasn’t worth the sacrifice.”
“We didn’t know it’d cause this though.”
“We should have.”
Silence grew between them once more as the sun finally blinked out and the stars began their nightly performance.
Gayle laughed weakly, breaking the stillness, “I think it was Albert Einstein that once said ‘If the bee disappeared off the surface of the globe, then man would only have four years of life left.’. We should have known, but the thought of an easier communication network… Who would have thought the price would be greater than the gain? We just realised it too late, we all did, and now it’s too late.” She sighed, “The greatest pollution, our greatest threat taunting us, all of us, every single day, and we’re all too proud of our accomplishment to do anything more than place a bandaid across it.”
. “I’m so sorry.” His voice broke on the words as he looked down at his suit and realising the truth of her words; a bandaid to a deeper problem, rather than a cure, a solution as. After a moment He reached for her hand, hearing her gasp as his the smooth skin of his fingers slid across her own.
“Ian? What are you doing?”
He smiled as her pulled the grey hood from his head and removed the clear mask with his free hand. “Four years Gayle, I might as well enjoy them what’s left of that time.” He laughed as his voice rang clear in the evening air, and he smiled before leaning across the space between them and kissing her beneath the stars as he hadn’t for years.



This story is written in response to the ever growing problem in the US regarding the disapearence of Bee colonies. There's many theories in regards to this ranging from bactieria, a viral infection, and mobile phone communications.
The mobile phone theory is due to EMF (electromagnetic waves) which are polluting the envinronment causing what seems to be the disruption of intercelluar communication in bees as well as other disorders in humans which causes internal bleeding akin to what was once caused by chemical sensitivity.
Electromagnetic radiotion is an invisible threat and the largest human created pollutant but unfortunately the sacrifice of human health will be inevitable due to mans hunger and greed.
Yes, I admit that I appreciate the convenience that results in EMF, but surely we can find a different method, or a solution to the problem before it's too late?

There is ample information regarding this avaiable online and in these forums for anyone interested in the issue.

Nice read. Thanks Jody

PS: will there be more?

That's an interesting story. Well-written, IMO. I do enjoy a writer that can present a whole picture in a short composure.

But I am slighly confused. Is it supposed to be post-apocalyptic or just the projected future?

Thanks guys

It was written as a projected future, when man realises/acknowledges the beginning of the end.

And I can't say whether or not there will be more along the lines of this story, but I have heaps of other short stories at http://missbry.deviantart.com