I had stopped seeing skulls, and bodies and skeletons; and other distressing little bits of death; I suppose that one filters these things off, especially when they never actually do anything and seldom pose any kind of threat. I also feel that the cloth of green hid most of these things from sight; and maybe there were those who ate the bones, working diligently in the dark background carefully out of sight. Most of the old civilisation simply wasn’t there anymore; so I didn’t think about it. Rather, I was faced with a new problem when leaving my tiny forest keep; getting through the vast and dense overgrowth that seemed to be responding very well to the new mixture of sun and rain. Most of the plants were very much bigger than the old normal; as if the high carbon dioxide in the air was triggering growth seen previously only in the Carboniferous Era, millions of years ago. I suppose that the plants, with really nothing better to do, were growing to the limit of their new resources and parameters; but it was a matter of some concern to me, as my passage in and out of the copse surrounding my house was anything but assured. The brambles; raspberries, blackberries and loganberries, were a case in point. The vines were huge and grew rapidly; I had to spend time once a week clearing the solar panels of the vast fronds, and brambles were clambering up the frame of my tiny wind generator. The trees around my house, planted and encouraged by myself over preceding decades, old and new trees alike, were far higher than the house and were showing no signs of slowing down. Food was plentiful, the pecans and almonds doing very well, with my tiny hazelnut seedlings struggling to keep up. I let some of the vegetables go to seed now; a necessity for the future of the annual plants. The vegetables in the cage were definitely not happy about all the shade, with all the trees leaping aloft and closing down the horizon on all sides. The sun, in places, simply could not get through, and the trees that I knew to be small and low, were topping out at over ten yards high. It’s quite challenging to harvest from an apricot tree that has shot up to fifteen yards high; and there are new and different hazards to be negotiated in the process. The fruit and vegetables were also larger and more plentiful, to the extent that I had forgotten about meat. The birds came in flocks and droves, and I would often find myself competing with them for fruit, in all places other than those that I had secured with the net of the cages. I had made the point of protecting the lower branches of the trees from the birds, and this provided benefits in an unexpected way. When the predatory birds came, they were kept away from the house by the nets; and the other birds provided enough entertainment for the predators so that I was overlooked and passed by. Seeing the predatory birds, some large, most of them rather small, tear apart small animals and eat them without bothering to kill them first, disturbed me intensely, and I contrived to keep a very low profile. I made several trips, mostly to the myriad destroyed hardware stores in the area, melting into the undergrowth, and brought back netting and planks, steel beams and screws, as well as the odd power tool that I couldn’t resist and couldn’t go home without. All these contributed to securing my much bigger cages, so that they kept out these unexpected new predators. The blue bumblebees, and the little yellow honeybees were also back in huge numbers, taking advantage of the quiet spot that I had created in the face of the raging winds, safe beneath the canopy of the new forest. They were busy buzzy bees, and there were several hives not too far from the house. Collecting honey, always an interesting exercise and certainly worth the trouble, was made somewhat more exciting when one attempted to collect from the Faria bees, as they were lethally toxic. However, I found, as I had on my previous encounters, that the blue bumblebees were docile. There hives were off the ground in trees and bits of broken wall, and often I could simply place a suitable container below the honeycomb and allow the excess honey to drip in, as the bees were vastly over producing in the sudden overgrowth of plants. When you have to fend for yourself in a hostile but verdant environment, certain items definitively disappear from the menu. Fish and chips, for example, didn’t appear with anything like monotonous frequency, although there were fish and potatoes to be had, for a certain amount of trouble. The trouble was the deciding factor; there were risks that I was simply not going to take; and catching fish entailed these risks in plenty. Bread, too, was a figment of a fond and distant past, as were chops; or any cuts of fresh meat. I soon found that I had not the will; or weapons or technique, for capturing and butchering any of the new feral animals, once domestic and fending for themselves in a cruel world. I figured that they had enough problems without me adding to their burdens with the occasional attempts on their life. They in their turn kept away. I suppose that they didn’t care for captivity, that they valued their freedom. I noticed; with growing concern; that they were rapidly becoming larger than before; in tune with the overgrowth of this new Carboniferous Era. The pigs in particular, didn’t mind how big and fat they got. I knew that pigs lived and grew until someone put a stop to it; but I hadn’t quite applied that knowledge to what was happening now, around me. I realised then that there was nobody to stop the animals from getting as big as they pleased; and they were playing this advantage for all it was worth. I also noticed that this overgrowth was happening fast; disturbingly fast; and I determined then that I really needed to keep out of the way, to observe and record this phenomenon from a safe distance. I did not see my way clear to arguing right of way with a pig that came to my shoulder; and bulked out in all directions to a similar proportion. I also wondered, uneasily, if the predators of the world were growing anew, to keep up with modern trends. Can there be redemption? When there is no-one left to be redeemed? I ask myself this on occasion, although it is even more meaningless than it was a scant two years ago, when the world was choked; choked with people and pollution, lies and deceit. They say that you can’t fool all the people all the time, though one person and his permissive organisation certainly tried hard enough. But now, when the air is clean and fresh, the plastic gone the way the oil and coal went, degraded by the removal of carbon and hydrogen. It was really too simple for words. If the mess came from hydrocarbons, then the clean-up comes from carbon and hydrogen parting ways. There is enough diamond lying around now; not that there is anyone to covet it. I certainly don’t, not with the rain still falling and the huge but diluted ocean coming slowly closer. Everything is different, and better. The trees, some new varieties coming through even as I make my notes. The herbivores; I no longer see them as they were; are getting bigger as well. The lies have been swept away by a savage tide of events; things that were once twisted and corrupt now are forgotten. Even the old calendar with its mockeries and misleading dates no longer exists; the New Moon saw to that. Old Earth was rocked on her neck, the old ways were shaken to pieces, then the dark of deep space opened up to show a new and different story. The lies are gone; and I do not miss them. The liars are dead, and I have forgotten them. The New Moon was just a speck of dust drifting slowly through the void; nearly stationary to the centre of the galaxy; one fragment amongst many, lost and abandoned by whatever system from whence they had originally come. The sun, approaching the centre of the galaxy along the spiral arm, at half a million miles an hour; he’s on his way somewhere at a devil of a lick, but it’ll take the sun a very long time to keep his appointment with the central black hole of the Milky Way. I will no longer be here; or if I am, it will be as a dusty and distant memory. The Earth might still be here; she’s been around on the stellar merry-go-round for a very long time, and with the tiny fillip of more water and a jolt on her orbit to shake things up a bit, she will probably be going around the sun, and supporting life, even when the final end comes. And life in plenty. She seems to be going back to her roots, that first verdant flush when green was everywhere, and the creatures on her face grew in proportion to the enormous trees of that earlier Carboniferous Era. The infinite small and infinite large of human endeavours; the tiniest devices visible only through a microscope, the germs and virus custom made in huge laboratories; all gone. The towers and bridges and other massive constructs; bitter, twisted metal a mile beneath the new sea level. It might be an act of some higher being; but it is one who had, apparently, been patient for long enough. There was a lot of diamonds lying around, some stones blue and beautiful, others oily and yellow, easy to pass by and not notice. I spend my time improving my cage, though some passing behemoth could just put his foot through it; no blame to him. I have, in my indomitable pack-rat fashion, brought all the building materials that I can find, and tacked bits and extensions onto the house, in the interest of places out of the rain. It’s now very hard to see the house at all; the trees are huge, the brambles make a massive cover over everything, though I still keep the panels clear, and when they see sunlight, I get some light inside the old house. The profile of these old hills, swaddled in their nappies of new green, is still much the same, although nothing of the old buildings remains on the surface. I have special ways under the canopy of low trees and brambles; Ican go to nearly any place nearby without seeing the sky; and I am very much more comfortable about this. There is too much peril in the sky; and a roof of green is a comforting thing. Seeing the sky; other than when I am clearing the solar panels is a thing of dire danger. Even when I am on the panels I have to work when the birds are busy elsewhere. They have eyes and spies in all quarters; and I am very glad that I put the upper hail net over the pan; that foils the birds every time. But the upper net has to be cleared on occasion too. A boat would be nice, I suppose whimsically, although the mere idea presents legion impossibilities in layers. A boat without a sail won’t be much fun to operate; and one with a sail would capsize the moment that the sail was set. Bigger is better when dealing with the massive storm winds, as the plants have discovered for themselves. If they all grow together, they can reach height relatively untroubled by the wind. A huge forest, presenting a massive point of resistance, simply diverts the wind somewhere else. I do what I can towards this end, collecting seeds from the plants that I have, and finding stocks of useful seeds on my now quite small island; when I go out after materials, hardware, tinned food or whatever, I take seeds with me, and plant them in the sodden, fertile ground. There are two main points to this procedure; to get food plants and others growing, is the first and most obvious. The other is to attract herbivores; the big ones in particular, away from the centre, where my house is. If they have enough to eat out there, and the huge bramble vines are sufficiently vicious, they are not tempted into the middle of the lud; my private forest on that low valley below the shelter of the ring of peaks. My safety, first and foremost, is my primary concern. What goes on elsewhere; and what comes afterwards; well, I have learnt to mind my own business; and I do this rather well now. The primary source of pollution in the old world had been hydrocarbons and their myriad derivatives, from imperishable stuff like rubber and plastic, to smoke, fumes, oil and complex chemicals. All were based on or derived from hydrocarbons; and they all disappeared when the carbon reset happened. It was too simple for words, and I shake my head at all the efforts that I had made to define ways to remove the source of the problem. Pull out the carbon, and even rubber, one of the most persistent of the pollutants, just disappeared. Whoever came up with that idea, and whatever machine; or state of mind he used for the job, gets my salute for brilliance; and I don’t give that out lightly. There are, obviously, other dangerous artefacts and pollutants; but they are sinking into the ground as the layer of mulch and soil deepens. It used to be ten to thirty inches deep, and of hard, pebbly clay, but the soil in my forest, layered with mulch and soil from higher ground, is almost ten feet deep now; deep enough for the most famous trees. They, too, contribute, sending destructive roots deep, seeking ever down for the minerals that they need. The past is being gradually forgotten, buried by life and fertile soil. They died; painful, hideous deaths; myriad thousands to the bees, to the gold beast, to the failure of their technology. Most of them had died before the New Moon came; I am alone in viewing that famous sky when the pair crown the night with their eccentric antics. I don’t gaze at the stars too much; it’s a dangerous exercise, with the new night fliers attracted like moths to any light, but when I do, I often see one or the other, sometimes both, riding the darkness on strings of yore. Everything is bigger, not so pretty, and very much more dangerous. I noticed this even with slugs and snails. The little ones are a perishing nuisance when they get through the twig traps and into my lettuces; and I welcomed the larger, predatory slugs who kept the beds clear of the small ones. However, the large slugs were distinctly unwelcome when they decided to see what I tasted like; and I kept a bowl of salt handy whenever I went into the garden to see what they were doing. Fortunately, there were birds; large and hungry birds, who also liked to snack on the slugs, and they seemed to enjoy the salted ones that I left lying around, so I made a point of leaving certain sections of the lower cage open, to let some of the birds in. I kept the cage in sections, allowing the birds to clear badly infected sections without allowing them any further. I had to be quite sure that the cage was clear before closing the gates again, as it was a ticklish business dealing with the predatory birds. They didn’t like being compelled, so I made them think that it was all a mistake on my part, letting them in. I wondered then if it was possible; or necessary, to change the myriad diamonds back to black carbon; I supposed not, and that the carbon would be degraded at its own pace; then I thought again. Diamond does not degrade; not with ease; it needs very high temperatures in the presence of oxygen to break down. Smashing a diamond into so fine a dust as you will, does not free the carbon from the crystal lattice. Diamonds can take it; and other than their hardness, and their use in crystals for x-ray lasers, they actually don’t have much use. However I supposed that there was enough free carbon to go around; certainly the plant growth around me convinced me that things were sort of in balance, in their new, Carboniferous gear; so I decided to watch and learn, as I had been doing for some years now. Materials are becoming hard to come by, especially the steel mesh that I am using for the cage walls and roof. I have had to compromise in some areas, since all the plastic has disintegrated and returned to carbon and hydrogen. The frames are wood and metal poles, the mesh screwed or welded on. Even the shade cloth I had used extensively before has all gone; and in places it is missed. The steel expanded mesh over the solar panels and over most of the roof of the cage is probably the best for the job, but it does rust, and I haven’t found any stainless steel mesh lying around. The warehouse where I expected to find some is under a hundred yards of salt water, so is out of reach. It’s going to be very interesting when the birds tear their way through the rusty mesh; as I’m not as agile as I was, and huge pieces of steel cranked up to ten or fifteen yards above the ground is no longer so much fun. However, I feel that I am safe enough, as the overgrowth of trees and brambles discourage the larger birds, and the small birds often enough prefer fruit to flesh. I harvested a butternut today; eighteen pounds if it was an ounce; and I have put the seeds in a sunny place to dry. Roast butternut, and butternut soup; it’s a pity that there are no spices to be had anymore. The Spice Islands, before the sea level rise, were eight thousand miles away, and I suppose that they are mostly drowned by now. I suppose that spices grow somewhere on the face of the world, if they haven’t evolved; but they certainly don’t grow here. I’m getting a bit lonely; and tired and achy. The rain and chill is a bit much at times; and lighting a fire to sit beside is a lot more complicated than it used to be. Wood, for instance, is at a premium although I am surrounded by tall trees. Obtaining dry firewood is a long and complex exercise, especially as I am limited to finding fallen branches. Drying it out in the absence of a warm and sunny spot is another detail. Smoke also attracts all kinds of birds and insects; and I don’t care to have them closer than they already are, as some of the insects are now very large. I saw a scorpion walking over the mesh roof of the cage, and it bent the steel in places. I certainly was not about to invite that monster inside. The centipedes don’t like it too dry, so they don’t usually come into the house, but as they are more than three feet long, I don’t care to entertain them. And the rain goes on. The sea level is rising. The clouds decorate the sky as often as not, and the huge storms often bring broken branches down on the house, blown off by the wind or struck off by lightning. I have my routine; and a special “sun lamp”, powered directly by the panels. It has come to pass that I can tell what is in the sky according to the brightness of the lamp, as it is triggered either by moonlight or lightning. If it is the sun, I react at once, doing all the chores best done in sunlight. I ignore the clocks, and work according to available resources; and it’s a lot of work, keeping that tiny house secure against the power and majesty of this new world.

“Thank you for your report, commander.”

“Please stand by for the rescue pod.”

“Do not leave the atomic ioniser behind.”

“This planet is declared clear, clean and has been fully rehabilitated.”

“The illness has been healed.”