Community Board

Can people just stop posting about that infernal scarlet blueberry?

Written by: Greg Clumpner

Illustrated by: Richard Chance

My finger quivers above the clickpad of my laptop as the indicator arrow on my screen hovers over the “Post” button. I believe in this project. So, why am I hesitating? Because optics are important, despite constantly telling myself it doesn’t matter what people think. I ask myself, am I less willing to lose my job or for the project to fail?

Any possibility to end the world food crisis is worth the risk, so I’m pushing the project. I’m all-in. Dammit, Gabby, just click the button!

I hate posting these updates and dealing with the fallout, but it’s part of my job as Project Manager. I’m overseeing the development of a self-contained and rapid-growth food production system. If something like our Production On Demand technology had been available after three consecutive years of extreme weather devastated farms worldwide, millions of lives could have been saved from starvation.

I glance over at my almost barren wine rack. Two bottles left. I bought as much as I could while the Scarlet Blueberry terrorized what was left of agriculture after the initial food crisis. Pangs of guilt knot my insides. Not only does my colossal salary allow me to purchase such luxury, my employer, CRI, caused the outbreak, which eventually forced my parents to close their own farm and retire early.

Fortunately for me, I never wanted to be a farmer. I wanted to manage people. And my excessive paycheck can support my parents’ retirements.

Change from within, I’d told myself. It isn’t blood money if I make a difference. Very convincing.

I’m tempted to open a bottle, one glass, just to take the edge off.

I press the clickpad and see my post register on the community board before I close my laptop for a quick yoga session to calm the nerves. This is the better choice.

****

u/PM_Marinero (25m ago): Update #5: Preliminary testing of the POD technology has been incredibly successful. We’re still on target for a Q1 ground-breaking of our new, eco-positive HQ building, the Cooper-Rose Gardens. Cooper-Rose Industries is proud to be central in the introduction of a safe POD food-growth system, bringing us one step closer to solving the world hunger crisis.

-Project Manager Gabriella Marinero

u/StopLiesCRI (24m ago): CRI CAN’T BE TRUSTED!!! The Scarlet Blueberry still lingers in some areas, choking out REAL crops and MURDERING the wildlife that eat it! Help me stop CRI’s attempt to greenwash their company image while their profit-hungry investors monopolize food production!! Join my protest at their zoning permit hearings on October 6th at 8:00AM.

My blood boils as I study the response to my update. That jerk took less time to post it than for me to read it. I know they had the response preloaded and ready to go, and possibly even wrote a script to auto-post as soon as anything with my username appeared.

Their username should be JerkFace#1. I imagine they’re some pissed off former employee of CRI, or a trust-fund college girl who needs to take a stand for something. More than likely, they’re a bored teenage kid trolling for a fight in the realm of anonymity.

I take three deep breaths to calm myself before crafting my response. Public relations was not the part of Project Manager I signed up for. I’m typing my response when a new message appears:

u/KissyMamma (now): Having been a part of the testing, I can assure you POD technology works and is non-toxic. We are doing everything in our power to not repeat the Scarlet Blueberry tragedy. I appreciate your point of view. Thank you for being.

Dammit, Qasim! Why did you have to post that? Looks like we’re having a talk at work tomorrow. Stupidly, this is the part of Project Manager I signed up for.

****

“You wanted to see me, Ms. Marinero?”

I take a deep calming breath, expanding my belly, as instructed in my yoga videos. “Please sit, Qasim. And call me Gabby.”

“And you can call me Kissy.”

“Yeah…that’s a good place to start. Your username on the community board…”

“KissyMamma, yes.”

“It’s not necessarily offensive, but at best it’s awkward.”

“But it’s my name.”

I consciously take another belly breath. “It’s your nickname and part of your last name.”

“The board doesn’t allow enough characters for KissyMammadguliyev. I tried QasimM, QasimMammadguliy, and even QasimMamma, but they were already taken. I don’t—”

My nails dig into my palms as I ball my fists. “You’re a brilliant engineer, Qasim. Figure it out. And no more responding to JerkFace#1!”

“Sorry?”

“It’s my pet name for StopLiesCRI.” Here comes the painful part. One more breath. “In fact, I need to ask you not to post anything company related.” Those puppy dog browns speak volumes. “I know you’re trying to help, but you can’t go throwing around words like ‘Scarlet Blueberry,’ ‘toxic’ and especially ‘tragedy.’ Just mentioning them is horrible PR. We still need the building project approved by the zoning board.”

“I said ‘non-toxic’ and—” He finally senses my dare-you-to-say-one-more-word vibe and drops his eyes. “Yeah, sorry.”

My stomach tightens. His disappointment and defeat are tough to digest. C’mon, Ms. Manager, lift the poor guy’s spirits. “Qasim, you do incredible work here and I’m impressed each time you show me something. Can you run me through the progress of the new POD system? We’ve got less than a month until the hearing and I need to make sure everything is running perfectly.”

He pulls his gaze from the floor and his cheeks regain some color. “Let me show you,” he says with a gleaming smile.

He leads me into the five-story tall hydroponics lab where rows of pillars hold climbing vegetation. All the tension in my body releases. Seeing it in person reminds me why I took the project.

Green beans hang from vertical stalks on a pillar to my right while the green and orange tops of carrots emerge from soil attached to the pillar on my left. “Every time I see the dirt stuck on the sides, it feels surreal. The base of these pillars is all metal?”

“It’s a composite, really. Stronger and more durable than if we used steel beams. Our soil binding agents are revolutionary. They’re how we’re able to diversify the vertical crops into root vegetables or heavier produce like eggplant and squash.”

“Amazing. And we’re able to keep them separated along the facade of the Cooper-Rose Gardens?”

“Absolutely. Lesson learned from the Scarlet Blueberry. We have alternating six-foot cutouts within the structure of the building to prevent any cross-contamination. We’ve had no instances along our trial wall on the eastern side of the lab. The system is ideal for crop rotation too. In theory, the glass windows that separate each column will heat and light the building naturally during the day. Non-grid energy use will be down 60% from the exterior design alone.”

“That’s cool and all, but—”

“You want to see something really cool?” he asks. I nod. “We’re about to launch a POD of grapes on the eastern wall.” On our walk to the simulated building facade, Qasim picks up an eyedropper on a lab table and hands it to me. “You can do the honors.”

I point the dropper at the six-feet wide, five-stories tall plot of compacted vertical soil. “Anywhere?” I ask Qasim.

He nods. “Empty the dropper into the soil. The water-based fertilizer compound will pull any necessary moisture from the air.”

I insert the eyedropper and squeeze out its contents. Immediately, there is motion under the dirt. A few seconds later, green vines sprout in front of my face. Qasim guides me back a few steps as the vines expand toward us and begin to intertwine with each other as they climb upward. Shortly after they reach the apex of the building, the emerald vines brown-out and harden in place. Barely a moment passes and leaves form on the vines, followed by the purple fruits.

I gasp for air, realizing I held my breath through the entire thirty-second process of seed to fruit. “Can I find another word than ‘amazing’? So much for the wine shortage.”

Qasim chuckles. “You’re too kind, Gabby. We’re focused on food first.” He shrugs his shoulders. “But in a few months, the vines will be mature enough for a proper vintage of pinot.”

“You know the way to a girl’s heart,” I say with a smirk.

“Speaking of amazing things, there’s one more thing I want to show you. We’ve had a mutation in one of the lettuce colonies.”

A weight crushes my core, stripping me of my moment of mirth. “Hold the phone, Qasim. There’s a mutation? We can’t have anything of the sort if we want to pass zoning. The PR alone…Nightmare. What the hell happened?”

He glows like a proud parent. “It’s a beautiful dream, not a nightmare. Preliminary tests show high nutrient density. I snuck a taste and it’s… yummy! We’re calling it sweet kale.”

I shake my head and instinctively rub my temple. Qasim can be frustrating to no end, but he loves this stuff. “I’ll ignore that you told me you ate some. Any chance at all sweet kale is dangerous?”

Qasim paces in front of me as he talks, “Not one bit. It’s been contained, and we’re studying it thoroughly, both for how it came to be and what future implications it may have.” He stops and his eyes widen with a glow. The pitch of his voice rises. “As of now, it seems as innocuous as a normal leaf of lettuce!”

Even his explanation holds an infectious excitement I can’t curtail. “Alright, I can accept that. Keep up the good work.” I pat him on the shoulder and flash an encouraging smile. “I love your constant positivity, Qasim. Just stay off the boards, okay?”

****

u/StopLiesCRI (1h 23m ago): An insider leaked to me that there is a mutation in the latest batch of Pods. I’m sure CRI will tell you there is no mutation or that it isn’t a big deal. I’ll be testifying against CRI’s proposed Pod construction project in three days, on October 6th. We need more voices to stand against this abomination!

u/KissyPODEngineer (49m ago): The mutation isn’t dangerous! We may have discovered a new form of lettuce that contains many of the nutrients provided by kale, but with an added natural protein. It even tastes sweet! I hope you will have the opportunity to try it someday. Thank you for being.

u/StopLiesCRI (45m ago): They said the Scarlet Blueberry wasn’t dangerous! Was it not a dangerous mutation when it ravaged fields and forests alike? Do you not care that whitetail deer, once hunted for population control, are now on the endangered species list after the Blueberry became the only thing left for them to eat?

u/KissyPODEngineer (41m ago): I hope to see you at the hearing and I welcome anyone who might have questions about the technology, the mutation, or anything else to come as well. It is officially set for 10:30AM. Thank you for being.

I refrain from hurling my laptop across my living room. I ponder the ethics of asking a community board moderator to block the messages or close the thread. Sending a message of my own is a terrible idea. Instead, I decide to go for a long run and burn off as much rage as I can before I need to have another chat with Qasim.

****

“So, you’re upset about the username?”

“As pervy as the name sounds, it’s the least of your problems, Qasim. You can’t divulge that kind of information to the public.”

“I just thought—” I raise my hand to stop him and I rise from my chair. I stare out the window of my office and take my belly breath. I turn and glower at him, trying to impress the gravity of the situation.

“I don’t care what you thought you were trying to do! I’m this close to having to fire you. Do you get that? We’re all out of jobs if this doesn’t go through. Why would you invite more problems to the hearing?” I catch myself wearing out the carpet behind my desk. I grip the back of my pleather executive chair to keep myself in place while Qasim sits calmly across from me.

“They aren’t problems, they’re people.”

“All they’re doing is trolling you, Qasim. JerkFace#1 is trying to get a rise out of you. Why do you keep responding?” I’m pacing again.

“I have to. They need to know they’ve been heard.”

I slam my fist on my desk. “Goddammit, Qasim!”

He startles. I pull back and switch to lecture mode. “I’m trying to help you here. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to get you out of this. Any minute, I’m going to hear from HR or the C-something-O looking for heads. I can’t lose you now, you’re too essential to the project.” He sits up and glares at me, steadfast. It’s unnerving. “I also can’t let anyone else try to take over in the eleventh hour. That’s how things like Scarlet Blueberry happen. Can you absolutely, 100%, personally guarantee the sweet kale mutation is contained?”

He calmly stands up. “No.”

The muscles in my fingers tighten. “What did you say?”

“I can’t 100% guarantee anything. That’s part of the miracle of science. But I believe in this project. I believe the PODs are the first step toward a green solution to end hunger everywhere. I’d stake my reputation on it. Wouldn’t you? What do you believe?”

The question stings and I reflexively deflect, “I believe you might be looking for a new job, which breaks my goddamn heart.”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes before withdrawing from the room. I look down at my hands and my digits are flexed like they’re about to strangle something, like monster fingers. This is why stress balls were invented.

****

My hand shakes so much I spill my wine. Those precious, rare drops of pinot noir are nothing more than a coping mechanism tonight.

Since posting my latest project update, I’ve done everything I can think of to calm my mind. My blue pantsuit has been ironed twice. My attempt at yoga was a joke. I went for a run, which became more of a stress-fueled sprint. I didn’t have the patience for a bath, and my fingers and toes could only take so much pruning in the shower.

The news plays in the background until they run a story about the Cooper-Rose Gardens and tomorrow’s zoning hearing. The switch to cartoons doesn’t help, the less than subtle ethical messages reminding me of what an ass I’ve been.

I blot the carpet where the wine spilled, sucking up whatever scarlet elements remain mixing with the no-longer-pristine white fibers. Come tomorrow afternoon, I don’t know if I’ll open my last bottle to celebrate or start working on my resume. Either way, I have a lot of questions to answer in the morning.

The half-full glass of wine settles on my desk, far away from my laptop to prevent the inevitable contamination on the keyboard. Maybe I should take a pill to get any semblance of sleep.

My anxiety peaks and I can’t help myself. I flip open the computer’s lid and hit refresh on my browser. My heart skips a beat when I see all the empty space beneath my post.

JerkFace#1 didn’t respond. No posts from a user with some form of Kissy in their username either. He finally listened.

u/PM_Marinero (2h 34m ago): Update #6: There has been a mutation in the lettuce PODs as previously reported on these boards. Our Lead Engineer and his team have worked tirelessly to ensure the new ‘sweet kale’ PODs are safe, nutritious, and non-invasive. I trust him implicitly. My parents lost their farm to the Scarlet Blueberry, and I took this position to help solve the food shortage in a responsible manner. We will confront any possible safety hazards and malfeasance and continue to push the envelope of science for the good of mankind, but we must do this together. We welcome everyone who may have doubts in our faith to attend the hearing tomorrow at the City County building at 10:30AM. Qasim Mammadguliyev, our Lead Engineer, will be available to answer any questions on the lower landing beginning at 8:00AM. Thank you for being.

-Project Manager Gabriella Marinero

****

The black suits, our lawyers, present CRI’s case to the zoning board and a full house of concerned citizens, including standing-room-only observers. The unsettled crowd buzzes during the legalese-heavy presentation of the architectural schematics, food production projections, and CRI’s risk management plan. The suits tie it together with a happy bow of “for the greater good.”

The chairperson of the zoning board raps her gavel to silence the murmurs. “We’ll hear comments from the public. There will be no questions answered.” I’ve been told the board is only allowing three members of the public to speak. They’re seated in the front row, across the aisle from me. All three seem eager, yet calm and presentable, like small-town elected officials. Could any of them actually be JerkFace#1?

The first man, in khakis and a button down flannel, steps up and swears in. “Scarlet Blueberry” this and “Scarlet Blueberry” that, he declares. He drones on for a couple minutes, accusing CRI of history that was explicitly defended in the presentation.

Eventually, the chairperson raises a hand to interrupt. “Thank you,” she says, “If you have any new information or perspective to present, we’ll hear it. Otherwise…”

The man looks at the ground and shakes his head.

Motioning to the next man, she says, “Next.”

He says something about our potential future and speculates that CRI purposefully used the Scarlet Blueberry and the PODs to control the food supply, and asks a bunch of “What if…” and “What will CRI do when…” questions which are left unanswered.

They’re all valid questions we should consider. But this isn’t the right forum and the rhetorical approach is no threat to our success at the hearing. He could be StopLiesCRI, but his tone isn’t spiteful enough.

The last person to speak is a woman wearing a full-length black skirt and pressed white blouse. Her tousled curly brown hair contradicts her crisp, clean-cut outfit, like her curls won in a battle against a straightener.

“State your name and address for the record.”

“Sarah Vinton. Six-thirty-two West Ambridge Road.”

“Before you swear in, Ms. Vinton, that address is outside city limits, miles from the proposed site of Cooper-Rose Gardens. Is your testimony pertinent to this board?”

“It is, Madam Chairman.”

The chairperson nods assent and Sarah Vinton speaks her oath of truth.

Sarah takes a visible deep belly breath with a slow exhale, a familiar technique. “I’m here today to speak on behalf of farmers, whose lives were upended by the actions of CRI several years ago. My tale is a common one. I used to have acres of corn. Peas and potatoes too. Stretching as far as you could see. Enter the Scarlet Blueberry.”

Sarah could be a problem.

“I fought the vines back as much as I could, but the Blueberry still choked out the crop. I feared for my livelihood, as one does. I thought it might just be another invasive species, although an extreme one. I told myself to suck it up and solve the problem. Nature finds a way—so can I.”

“I’m here today to speak on behalf of farmers, whose lives were upended by the actions of CRI several years ago…I told myself to suck it up and solve the problem. Nature finds a way—so can I.”

She bites her lip. I can tell how hard she’s fighting back the tears.

“Then the livestock started getting sick.”

Checkmate. The members of the zoning board are glued to Sarah with sympathetic eyes. The crowd mutters, yet the chairperson doesn’t pick up her gavel and doesn’t call order.

No more Cooper-Rose Gardens.

No more job.

Maybe I deserve it, lying in a bed covered with company sheets soaked in sin.

I scan the room and I notice Qasim leaning against the rear wall of the auditorium. He catches my glance and smiles at me, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like his dream wasn’t just set ablaze.

“Despite all that,” Sarah continues, “I might want to see this project move forward.”

My heart skips a beat.

“I have my reservations, as do many people in this community. I intended to come here today and fight tooth and nail against CRI, do whatever it would take to stop them.” Sarah wipes moisture beneath her eyes. Her voice raises an octave. “Then I realized, I can’t change what happened to my farm. I can’t save the people who died of starvation.” Sarah’s eyes meet mine, and her gaze is sharp. “The people responsible at CRI have to live with their mistakes.”

Thankfully, I wasn’t involved with the Scarlet Blueberry development, but the weight of responsibility isn’t lost on me. If an incident occurs with sweet kale, or another POD, will I be able to forgive myself?

“CRI also has the means to solve these problems. I think it’s important that the right people have the opportunity to do so.”

I couldn’t agree more, Sarah.

Grumbles echo through the crowded room and the chairperson raps her gavel several times for order. “Thank you, Ms. Vinton,” she says when the gallery finally quiets.

“Thank you for your time,” Sarah says and returns to her seat in the front row.

“Will the representative from CRI give their final remarks?”

The suit next to me shuffles his papers. While he’s distracted, I shoot up from my chair. “I propose the addition of an oversight committee for Cooper-Rose Gardens.” The black-suited lawyers grumble and one of them tugs at my suit coat. I slap his hand away.

“Ms. Marinero,” the chairperson says, “Do you have the authority to propose such a committee?”

I shrug. “Better to ask forgiveness.”

“This is an unorthodox proposal. Are you certain?” The gravity pulls at the “yes” trying to escape my lips and yanks it into my gut. While I’m asking forgiveness, I might have to beg for my job. I forget how to breathe, how to speak. Instead, I vigorously nod.

“Very well,” the chairperson says with a wave of her hand. “The board will now deliberate and we’ll return with our decision.”

As the board leaves, my reflexes return, breaths matching the rhythm of my thumping heart. One belly breath to—

“Gabby!”

I swear, my feet leave the ground. But that smile…

“Kissy, I’m glad you stayed for the trial.”

“Me too! Do you think it’s going to pass?”

“I was worried when the last person started their story, but I think the project is okay.”

Qasim bounces around like a kid on his birthday, and I can’t help but share his enthusiasm.

My rush of glee passes and I need to get the two-ton weight off my chest. “Sorry for how I’ve been acting lately. So much is at stake with this project. I lost sight of why I wanted to be a part of it in the first place. Thank you for being…” I roll my eyes. “…you. And thanks for setting me straight. I’m glad I didn’t have to fire you.” Whether I’m still Project Manager or not, I believe in Qasim and his team.

His infectious smile whisks all the weight away. “Thanks for having my back when it mattered.”

“You shouldn’t tell me, but I have to ask: Were you the leak? Did you set CRI up to be transparent about the POD project?” Qasim’s toothy grin confirms my suspicion. “Oh goddamn, Qasim! Were you StopLies the whole time too?”

“Excuse me.” Sarah Vinton says as she approaches. “I don’t mean to interrupt. I want to thank you for suggesting the oversight committee. I still have my doubts about the project, but it’s a start.”

“Can I ask why you changed your mind? During your testimony?”

“Change is the wrong word.” Her eyes narrow. “I don’t fully trust you. And I definitely don’t trust CRI. It was one thing when the pervy engineer said nice things on the community board…”

I nudge Qasim with my elbow.

“When it came from the project manager, I started to believe you might care. That there’s someone fighting for those who might be hurt by the technology. The story about your parents’ farm…” Sarah rubs her hand through the curls on the back of her head. “You got me thinking. And this morning, Kissy vouched for you.”

I glance at Qasim, stunned. “And even before I apologized to him.”

Qasim shoots me a look and tilts his head toward Sarah with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. I need a moment to piece it together.

“Wait, are you StopLiesCRI?”

She nods. An awkward silence hangs between us, and I can’t think of an appropriate way to break it. Thank God, Sarah does the heavy lifting. “I’m…sorry for all the trouble. I’ve been in a bad place. I was so angry, and that stupid phrase made me angrier…until it didn’t.”

“Thank you for being?”

“That’s the one.”

“It can get annoying sometimes, but that’s our Kissy. Sarah, you don’t need to apologize, I’ve been on-edge lately too. Some might say I’ve been a smidgen testy.” I flash Qasim a smile and wink. When he smiles back, warmth envelops me.

“Sarah, I’m the one that owes an apology. When you posted your messages on the board, I wasn’t listening. I thought you were some teenager trolling us. I’m sorry I wasn’t listening earlier, but I hear you now.”

The zoning board filters back into the room and the chairperson raps her gavel for order. Sarah crosses the aisle toward her seat and I call to her. “You willing to change the world?” She looks at me quizzically as she sits.

The chairperson speaks. “After reviewing the permit applications, zoning appeal, and the individual statements, this board approves the zoning variance and Cooper-Rose Industries may begin construction. Additionally, per Ms. Marinero’s suggestion, a board-appointed committee will be initiated for the oversight of both the initial construction of Cooper-Rose Gardens and its ongoing agricultural operations.”

“May I suggest something else?” I stand and ask.

“Ms. Marinero, both your variance and your proposal passed. What more do you want?”

“I’d like Ms. Vinton to lead the committee, or at least be a part of it. I can think of no one better to chaperon CRI as we sow the seeds of a hunger-free world.”

“Ms. Vinton, are you willing to lead the committee?” Sarah is agape, her eyes wide, staring through a spot behind the zoning board. “Ms. Vinton?” the chairperson repeats.

Sarah blinks, and a hopeful smile sprouts. “I am.”

I take a belly breath. I’m warm and tingly inside. And light, a sensation I haven’t experienced in a long while. I think of my last bottle of wine, and I want to share it with Sarah and Qasim. We’ll consume the past while we design the future.

I can’t think of a better way to celebrate the start of a new era.

---

Stay tuned…

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