Mothering the Saved

Until my daughter arrived, the Environmental Giving Committee Ball had been a formal, stuffy black tie event. I

stood alone, admiring an intricate wine glass, the stem decorated with glass vines and flowers. It was stunningly expensive and frighteningly breakable. I shifted uneasily, my shoes sinking slowly into the lush purple InsuCarpet. I had just checked my phone to see if my Lily had arrived safely at home, when the huge wooden door to the venue burst open. It was my daughter, Lily, completely underdressed and completely uninvited. She was sweaty, shaking leaves, sticks, and dirt out of her hair onto the elegant ballroom floor.

“Lily, what are you doing here?” I gasped. She stood in front of me panting, clutching a crumpled invitation in her

wet fist.

“Savannah was bragging again. I snatched this! I took it and hid it in my mouth. The teacher was mad, but I

pretended I ate it. Now I’m here! I biked!” I looked around desperately. People looked back at me with nosy contempt. If I hadn’t been an outcast before, I certainly was now. I’d volunteered for a few EGC fundraisers at the request of Mrs. Kinder, but she and I were far from equals. She’d moved into town in the middle of the year to run the regional EGC, and she’d been dumbfounded when the local private school refused to take her daughter Savannah without an application. She complained often about the public school Lily attended, despite the fact that the teachers practically bent over backwards to make Savannah happy. I secretly found both mother and daughter a bit irritating.

Of course, as a good citizen, I did a large share of volunteering duty and gave the family the respect they

deserved. Mrs. Kinder and her husband were both Saviors. Savannah’s great-grandfather had instituted the One-Child-Policy back in 2054, and his wife had patented the 0-Emissions Airplane. Her other great-grandmother had been the military leader of the original Saviors, responsible for the decisions that ultimately resulted in the reversal of climate change. We owed them our lives.

No matter how much I respected her though, Mrs. Kinder had only invited me to her ball out of courtesy, and

maybe pity. My daughter showing up dirty with a stolen invitation was rudeness to the highest degree. I grabbed Lily’s shoulders and steered her away from the party. I grabbed frantically at the first door I saw and found, to my relief, a simple tiled room filled with cleaning products. I pulled her in and used a large tub of EcoBleach to block the door.

“What is going on!” I yelled. “You just embarrassed me in front of Mrs. Kinder, the most important person in this

town, and why are you covered in grass stains, and-” I cut myself off. My panic was subsiding in the cool room, and I reminded myself that Lily was only nine. “Let’s start with an easy question. What happened to your clothes? I only bought those pants last year. I was hoping you would give them to the clothing drive in the fall without a mess.”

“I’m sorry, Mama. On the way home from school, Branch and I wanted to race down the hill in Main Orchard. Then

we both fell down and started to roll, until he hit a tree. He’s covered in sap now! I guess you’re lucky you’re not Branch’s mom! He’s sticky!” My annoyance evaporated as she described her joyful romp through nature. At least she wasn’t growing up the way I did, coming home with the thick smell of smog settled in her clothing, with ash dusted across her legs.

“I’m glad you had fun darling. We can go rinse your clothes in Miracle Pond this weekend.”

“Okay. But Mama?”

“Yes?”

“Mrs. Kinder buys Savannah new clothes when they get dirty.”

“Savannah’s family has a heroic history,” I told Lily. “Anyways, didn’t you learn about the fast fashion industry in

history class? How wasteful it was? Do you want to be wasteful?”

“Savannah’s being wasteful.”

“Is this why you took the invitation from her, hon? Are you feeling jealous?”

“I’m not jealous!” She was emphatic. “It’s just not fair!”

“Lily,” I sighed, “It’s important to be grateful for the things we have. The world is a wonderful place, and we are

very lucky. The Saviors have done so much for us.” She sat down on the EcoBleach and grabbed my hand, swinging my arm around in boredom. She smelled like Tofurkey tenders.

“Mama,” she said, “I want a baby brother like Savannah has.” Savannah’s baby brother had been the talk of the

school that winter. She brought him in for Show-and-Tell, and the children had squealed over his chubby cheeks. I had noted the expression on the little girl’s face; even at age nine she knew she was special, knew she had what others did not.

“You know that’s not allowed, hon. They decided that before I was born. There were too many people on the

planet, and the world wasn’t big enough for everyone. Savannah’s family got a government exemption. They’re hoping the family’s entrepreneurial generosity will be passed on to a new generation.” Savannah’s extended family made up more than 20% of the government, but I didn’t remind Lily of this because she didn’t need any more prompting to make her next argument.

“That’s not fair. I want a brother. I want to be like grandma in the story you told me.” When my mother was a small

child, she woke up one day to find a sparkly shirt that said, “best big sister,” and her family had pancakes with bacon for breakfast. I had told Lily this in a moment of reminiscing, but sometimes I wish I could take it back. They do not sell those shirts anymore, and hopefully they won’t for a long time. We don’t eat bacon either.

“That was a different time. Things are better now.”

“Better, I guess. But still not fair.” I’d always thought better was enough. Asthma rates had decreased by 80%, no

one lived on top of landfills anymore, no one died in tropical storms. Lily didn’t understand our history; she was too caught up in her childhood fancies. I just wanted her to grow up to become a good person, a good citizen. I opened my mouth to tell her that, but Lily was screaming now, beating her fists on the tan tiles in a way that I hadn’t seen since she was four. “You never listen to me, only to them,” she sobbed. I took her in my arms.

“Lily,” I said, “I’m sorry.” She cried in frustration as I continued, “But I know how the world was, and you don’t. It

was excruciatingly painful, honey. We were dying from our own mistakes. And people like Savannah’s family rescued us. The Saviors put restrictions in place to make things right, and their leadership keeps us from making mistakes again. Everything they did was for a reason, even the things you think are bad. Overall, it’s mostly fair.” Her sobs quieted, and I thought, for a moment, that I’d convinced her, convinced myself.

“You think Savannah’s better than me.” I stopped talking. Lily’s words, petulant and pained, cut deep. I’d been a

bad mother to her. I was grateful for fresh air, a cleaner world. But I was also grateful for the messy little girl in front of me, and all she needed was a mom who listened. I could give her kindness, even if it wasn’t in the form of a pancake breakfast and a sparkly shirt.

“I don’t think that at all, baby. You are smart and strong and so brave, and I admire that about you a lot. This world

works in a complicated way, but I know you just want to make it better. Let’s go out to the dance and eat some food.”

I led her out of the supply room and back into the dark, high ceilinged ballroom. I had planned to subtly apologize

to Mrs. Kinder and ask if Lily could stay. Lily’s plans were drastically different.

Mrs. Kinder scowled when she saw the girl who’d robbed her daughter strut back into the ball in grassy pants. But

that didn’t stop Lily.

“You’re not special. You act like you are, but you’re not. We keep the world clean, not you. When’s the last time

you washed your clothes in the Pond? Savannah’s so mean to me.” She began to sob.

“What-” Mrs. Kinder began to speak, looking shocked. I was sure that no one had ever said that to her before. I

gasped.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, desperate to protect myself and my child. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. We’ll

leave now.” Again, I grabbed Lily’s hand and rushed her away.

We biked home almost silently.

“You can’t say things like that, Lily. You don’t want to make enemies of people like the Kinders.”

“You don’t let me say anything.”

 

When Lily and I arrived home, I stayed silent while tucking her in. I didn’t know what to tell her, or what to think.

Exhausted, I sat on my bed and began scrolling through social media. A famous actor had just climbed Mount Everest and posted seven perfect photos of the view and one selfie at the summit. “We’ve come so far,” the caption said. “Only 50 years ago, there was no snow on this mountain at all. Today it’s been restored to its original perfection. Everyone needs to get out there and remind themselves of how amazing this world is.” I felt somehow inadequate, as if I wasn’t engaging enough with the natural beauty around me. But my shame was tinged with irritation. An 0Emissions ticket anywhere cost more than a month’s rent, not to mention the price of visiting Nepal specifically. In the country’s current state, he’d probably paid for a full set of staff to travel with him, as well as state-of-the-art radiation protection.

“I thought we all needed to sacrifice to save the earth,” I muttered. “What have you given up?"

 

The sun shone bright the next morning, and I decided to forget the chaos of the night before and spend a happy

Saturday with my daughter. The turtles and frogs of Miracle Pond beckoned us, and we answered. We grabbed Lily’s newly green pants and biked down the tree-lined road, rolling easily across the clean, white BioAsphalt. At the Pond, we met up with Branch’s mother, Delilah Zhu, whose dark eyes creased in laughter when she saw us.

“I heard that Lily here caused quite a stir at the EGC ball last night.” Lily, uncharacteristically shy, blushed and

looked at the ground. I chuckled too. Lily spied Branch chasing bees on the other side of the small pond and dashed through the wildflowers to push him in.

“She’s at that stage, you know, where injustice seems so blatant and so wrong. I think she recognized that that girl

Savannah always had more than her, and she couldn’t figure out why.” I hesitated to speak further but forged ahead. Delilah was good at keeping secrets. “I agree with her. I used to say she was lucky because she didn’t have to live on a dying earth anymore. But the way the Saviors make none of the sacrifices we do… it’s just, I wonder whether they are really special, or whether they just happened to take control when all hope seemed lost. I mean, we’re not even talking about the original Saviors at this point, just their grandkids and successors. What do they deserve, really?”

“Yeah, I get that,” Delilah nodded.

“And there’s the fact that no one talks about—”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, I think that’s the real reason our kids are lucky.”

“Mhm,” I said.

“What,” Delilah asked me, “do you not want to think about it or something? I thought you were all about hating

on the Saviors.” Her voice was sweetly ironic, and it woke up something in my brain. The voice in my head whispered what I was afraid to say out loud. I deserved to feel shame. The Saviors had what I did not, and I had what billions of people did not. Delilah and I fell silent, watching our children splash each other joyfully in the clear blue water.

Lily knew, of course. It was easiest to teach the children about it in kindergarten, when they could comprehend the

words and nothing else. Just one week-long history unit, just a couple of political decisions justified by facts and evidence.

The facts were that sixty years ago, the carbon cost of a few atomic bombs was less than the carbon cost of India’s

and China’s rapid industrialization and population growth. Students learned that at the time, carbon cost was all that mattered. They learned that the Saviors had taken over because Congress wasn’t making the decisions they needed to. That the decision to bomb had been difficult, but that it ultimately was the only possible choice for the saving of humanity. The kids took a short quiz and didn’t think about it again. I’d been through the same curriculum myself, just 25 years after the bombings. Delilah continued.

“People are alive there. People in rural areas survived. America decided not to help them because they wanted to

forget that they had any hand in the event, so they’re still out there, trying to survive the nuclear fallout.” Lily and Branch had come up next to us, mostly clean clothes in hand.

“Where?”

“China and India, hon.”

“My Mom’s family is from there.” Branch, normally exuberant, delivered this information with extreme seriousness.

“I wanted to tell you about it when I learned that in kindergarten,” Lily pouted, “but I knew you’d just tell me to be

grateful.” I started to give her a shh face, but stopped myself.

“I’m sorry about that. Mama’s learning.”

“Why don’t you do something about it?” Delilah asked.

“Yeah, why don’t you, Mama?” I knew Lily would say that. I sighed, in fear and annoyance, but I’d committed to

listening to her more.

So, I got in touch with a few of Lily’s classmates’ parents, the ones I felt wouldn’t be too loyal to the Saviors. I asked

them to meet at my house. Most of the people I asked showed up, confused and apprehensive. The group of maybe 15 people was the largest gathering I’d ever held. The guests gathered around my dining hall table. They held their children in their laps, and the ones who I didn’t have enough chairs for leaned awkwardly against the table and the walls. I did not feel like an adequate host, let alone a leader of a group protesting an extremely powerful and previously unchallenged government. My hands shook as I stood up.

“I’ve brought you here to talk about the world we live in in a way that no one’s done in more than fifty years. I’ve

brought you here with the hopes that my daughter, Lily, and my friend, Delilah, will reach you in the same way they have reached me.” I sat down again, and Lily took my place. Delilah stood behind her, and the two retold the story of the bombings of China and India, the wealth inequality perpetuated by the Saviors, and my own refusal to recognize anything but the good.

“The Saviors should pay! They need to take everything they’ve been given and return it to the people who

survived their attacks. We refuse this abuse of power, and we refuse to be quiet!” Delilah and Lily finished their speech off with a yell. I heard stunned silence, and then the sound of my own cheers. I had never seen that level of passion and eloquence from my daughter; Delilah had taught her well. I could not have been prouder.

But when I turned back to the others and saw a silent circle of horrified faces, my pride faded to a sick

nervousness. They would report me. People who were anti-Savior were seen as anti-Earth. I’d probably lose my job as a restaurant manager; anti-Earths were trusted practically nowhere. The Saviors might take Lily away, give her to a better family who would raise her with the right values. A trembling voice brought me back to reality.

“Oh my god,” a woman said. “I never thought that people were still there.” Delilah nodded gravely.

“My parents came to America when they were young, before the Coup. But some of their cousins are there today. Most of them died, of course, and I’m not very close with those families. We talked once about helping them

immigrate, but the plane tickets are far too expensive.”

“I can’t believe I never thought about that past kindergarten,” someone else chimed in.

“So,” I asked, “what do you think we should do?” Again, I was met with silence. Longer this time. “I mean,” I

stuttered, “do you think we should do something?”

“I don’t know,” the first woman spoke again. Her name was Amber, and she had worked with me on a few EGC

bake sales. I’d invited her because she was always friendly to me. “I get that it’s kind of wrong, but isn’t it just the way it is?” I nodded. I understood how she felt. Delilah, it seemed, did not.

“It’s only this way because everyone accepts it. If you don’t do anything, you are supporting the Saviors.”

“I have another question.” A tall man spoke up hesitantly. “Aren’t the Saviors good though? Didn’t they save the

world? Wasn’t their decision necessary?” I spoke up.

“I used to think so too. I think they still are sort of good. Or at least the old ones were. But I feel like they chose to

save America and they killed so many people to do that. I don’t know, you guys.” I was frustrated and confused. The past few days had disrupted my worldview entirely. I’d been grateful before, and happy with the world I lived in. “Delilah understands this better than I do, she can answer.”

Delilah didn’t get the chance. The tension in the room was broken by the sound of harsh knocking. Mrs. Kinder

stood at the door, flanked by her daughter and her pedicab driver. I gasped. She glowered at me, and I backed up, frantically signaling Lily to move into the other room.

“Can- can I help you with anything?”

“I’d like to speak with your daughter,” she commanded. No. No no no, I thought.

“No, I’m sorry. You can speak to me. I know Lily can be outspoken and rude, but she truly doesn’t know any

better.”

“She said Savannah was mean to her. I don’t tolerate bullying in my house, and I’d like to hear more.” Oh. Was she

here to apologize? I couldn’t believe it. She continued, “As a Savior, and an important member of this community, it is important to me that I serve the people. My daughter should be an example to her class, even if she will be moving on to a better school in a few months.”

“Oh, of course! Thank you!” I responded to her snotty offer with politeness powered by my immense relief. “Come here, honey!” Lily, never having gone to hide in the first place, ran up to the door. Mrs. Kinder bent down,

and Lily began to complain.

“She’s always telling me I’m not as good as her, and she makes fun of me when I want the things she has.”

Savannah actually looked upset.

“I’m sorry, Lily,” she said.

“Well, it’s okay because you wouldn’t know any better,” Lily told her. “I know better because my mother raised me

to be a good person.” I beamed and then covered my mouth.

Mrs. Kinder drew herself up angrily. She had clearly come over to reinstate her position as a hero and a leader, and

she had been sure that we would accept her apology immediately. Had it not been for the past few days, I would have. “You will not insinuate that I am a bad person ever again. I am a Savior, and you should be grateful that I showed up to apologize. You’ll shut your mouth, little girl, if you know what’s best for you.”

“Your grandparents killed 3 billion people.” Mrs. Kinder stepped forward, grabbed Lily, and shook her hard.

“If you weren’t a child,” Mrs. Kinder told my daughter, “you’d be in jail right now. Watch yourself, both of you.”

She slammed the door, and I grabbed Lily into a hug.

“I’m sorry everyone,” I said, trudging back into the kitchen, holding my nine-year-old like a baby. “It’s too

dangerous. I’m sorry for bringing you into this.”

“Don’t worry,” Delilah told me, while the others nodded. “If they’re going to these lengths to shut people up, we

have something they’re scared of.”

The blonde man agreed. “I think I was wrong when I said they were good. It’s time for all of us to do something.”

We began contacting friends, diving into internet research for truer histories, and Delilah emailed her cousins in

China asking them what they needed. The group felt more unified and more grounded in reality than anything I’d ever experienced. When we finished our work for the day, I could tell we were headed somewhere. It would take more than I could ever provide, but the world was ready to change again.