The metallic taste of progress lingered on Nora's tongue as she gazed out the foxhole's opening. Dawn's rosy fingers stretched across the valley below where emerald sheets of grass rippled in the breeze. The last wild place. Where monarchs still flew and the lazy songs of meadowlarks echoed as they had for centuries. But the drill bit beetles would soon come to pierce, pulverize and extract it all.
Nora still remembered when the corporate contingent came with their spectacle of a presentation, complete with glassy-eyed avatar assistants promising it would be minimally invasive. Promising to stop if any negative environmental impact emerged. The beetles were solar-powered, emission-free, their spider-like limbs allowing extraction with delicate precision not possible from lumbering human hands.
The town council was easily seduced - even Aunt Meg who led every environmental protest since the oil conspiracy of the early 2000s. In the end, even she voted for the economic security the mine could bring. "Maybe the planet is heading for disaster either way," Meg had said, looking every bit her age that day. "Might as well have full bellies and functioning hospitals for what years are left."
Only Nora and two friends voted against, pleading for consideration of all who could not speak - meadowlarks, monarchs and all that would be lost. When their protests went ignored, sabotage became the only nonviolent option left.
Which led Nora here, her teenage frame folded into a near fetal position as she kept vigil over her homemade disruptor decoys. Camouflaged to blend in with the greenery, each decoy emitted an electromagnetic pulse that would continually scramble the beetle's navigation systems. She only needed to buy enough time for the conservation group's injunction hearing next week. Surely the glitching beetles losing days of productivity would bolster their legal stoppage efforts.
Peppered gunfire noises erupted from the west perimeter where her friend Anton was stationed. He had always possessed more of a scorched earth philosophy than the rest of their ragtag band of resistance fighters.
"Anton, what's your status?" Nora whispered into her comlink. Only static answered.
More pattering pops echoed. Getting closer. Nora's gut twisted - had Anton lost it completely? There was a profound difference between property damage and violence against people. She slipped out the hideaway, grabbing the nearest decoy receiver to locate Anton's position when she felt something graze her neck. Nora's hand reflexively raised to the stinging area as her knees gave way.
Tranquilizer dart. It had to be. The world spun sideways as her limp body slammed onto the jarring earth. Human forms hovered over her fast-fading consciousness. Nora mentally grasped for focus as the fog descended completely into blackness.
"It's my fault, Meg. I was the one who brought the decoy idea to them after we failed with the injunction. I convinced Anton and Nora to take up the cause," Nina said softly.
Meg slowly shook her head, silver hair shining under the visitor room's fluorescent lighting. "You kids tried going through proper legal channels only to have your voices ignored. Desperate times called for desperate measures in your eyes. I of all people can understand that sentiment, believe me."
"They wouldn't even listen to Dr. Linden at the hearing," Nina replied, anger flushing her cheeks. "He warned that several endangered species in that valley would face total extinction if the beetle-bots accessed their niche habitat. And now thanks to our botched efforts, they'll make an example out of Nora and Anton to deter future resistance."
Meg clasped Nina's hand gently. "This battle was lost before it even started, I'm afraid. But the war still rages on. We must regroup and continue educating, organizing, resisting in ways that open more minds and hearts. Violence aimed at people rather than property will only undermine our cause in the end. Now let's focus our energy on supporting our friends through this."
Just then the visitor room door opened as Nora shuffled in wearing a orange jumpsuit, her wrists shackled. As they embraced, Meg vowed silently to herself: we will not let your selfless spirit stay imprisoned for long, my wild child. The meadowlarks' songs still echo in this old heart. And we will sing them again one day upon that valley's windswept fields when we finally welcome its native children home where they belong.
