This story is part of Imagine 2200: Climate Fiction for Future Ancestors, a climate-fiction contest from Grist. Read the 2021 collection now. Or sign up for email updates to get new stories in your inbox.
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The boat jostled and everything went sideways. I flew to Mom’s side, worried that her wheelchair would tip over and hurt her, but she had an iron grip on one of the many grab bars scattered throughout our boat home. The sound of things crashing around us quieted as the rocking abated, but my stomach was in knots from the suddenness of it.
“Was that an earthquake?” I asked. Mom shook her head, none the wiser.
“You stay here,” I told her. “Let me just check that there’s nothing sharp on the floor.” Mom nodded, her eyes wide and hand still clutching at her chest. We have had fewer earthquakes since the Decree was passed, which slashed public and private funding to the fossil fuel industry and redirected that capital toward renewable ... Read more
