It Could Happen Here - CZM Book Club: The Plastic People by Tobias Buckell

Episode Date: December 3, 2023

In this episode of the Cool Zone Media Book Club, Margaret reads Gare a story about making fun of rich people in space.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Hey guys, I'm Kate Max. You might know me from my popular online series, The Running Interview Show, where I run with celebrities, athletes, entrepreneurs, and more. After those runs, the conversations keep going. That's what my podcast, Post Run High, is all about. It's a chance to sit down with my guests and dive even deeper into their stories, their journeys, and the thoughts that arise once we've hit the pavement together. Listen to Post Run High on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. You should probably keep your lights on for

Nocturnal Tales from the Shadow. Join me, Danny Trails, and step into the flames of right. An anthology podcast of modern day horror stories inspired by the most terrifying legends and lore of Latin America. Listen to Nocturnal on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. The 2025 iHeart Podcast Awards are coming. This is the chance to nominate your podcast for the industry's biggest award. Submit your podcast for nomination now at iHeart.com slash podcast awards. But hurry, submissions close on December 8th. Hey, you've been doing all that talking.

It's time to get rewarded for it. Submit your podcast today at iHeart.com slash podcast awards. That's iHeart.com slash podcast awards. Cool Zone Media. Book Club. Book Club. Book Club. Book Club.

Book Club. Book Club. it's the book club it's the cool zone media book club i'm your host margaret killjoy and with me today is my guest fellow it could well i'm not an it could happen here host but this is on they could happen here feed sure is and that's gare hello i read books. Amazing. I mostly listen to audiobooks at this point, honestly. Oh, I do. I can't retain the information with an audiobook.

At least most of the books I read are just like nonfiction. I haven't read a novel in years, which I kind of feel bad about. But my job warrants I read just a whole bunch of like really upsetting non-fiction and like i can't like take notes the same way if i'm listening to an audiobook i don't know oh no that's that's that's true for me i forget that my day job is reading history books for podcasts those i read yeah in print um i actually really like reading the physical book while pacing but oh yeah me too yeah i love pacing it's so good maybe you're pacing while you're listening to this dear listener cool zone media book club is every sunday and i read you stories and this week's story is by a friend of mine, Tobias S. Buckell. I'm sort of a former teacher of mine who I think is

really cool. I met Tobias when he was my teacher at the Clarion West Writers Workshop. And I would just like to shout out that Aspiring Writers, there's a six-week workshop called Clarion West. There's another one called Clarion. I went to to clarion west so i have a little bit of bias towards it and it sounds like a reality tv show but it's not you like i spent um six weeks in a sorority house with 18 strangers uh in seattle and learned science fiction writing from amazing authors with a different author every week comes in to teach us that sounds cool yeah it was it's a really good thing for people who are like just at the part of writing where you're just starting to be good enough but you're not consistently good enough yet you know yeah yeah yeah and it really I'm not a formal education person.

I don't have any degrees. I've been thinking about framing my high school diploma to put behind me in Zoom calls as a joke. That would be funny. That would be good. But Clarion West, workshop-type things is very practical. And Toby is a really good teacher. Toby's bio, before we get to the story. Tobias S. Buckell is a New York Times bestselling author and World Fantasy Award winner born in the

Caribbean. He grew up in Granada and spent time in the British and U.S. Virgin Islands, which influenced much of his work. His novels and almost 100 stories have been translated into 20 languages. His work has been nominated for awards like the Hugo, Nebula, World Fantasy, and the Astounding Award for Best New Science Fiction Author. He currently lives in Bluffton, Ohio with his wife and two daughters, where he teaches creative writing at Bluffton University. He's online at tobiasbuckell.com. That's B-U-C-K-E-L-L, and to spell Tobias, I guess. I'll just read the whole thing. T-O-B-I-A-S-B-U-C-K-E-L-L.com and is also an instructor at the Stone Coast MFA

in Creative Writing Program. And also sometimes he teaches Clarion West. They should find a year. There you go. I've been looking at workshops, but I've been working at clowning workshops because there's no good clown schools on the East Coast except for in New York. And I've never been to New York.

So now I'm looking for like regional clown workshops because all the clown schools are in the elitist L.A. and New York theater scenes. It's no good. Tragic. It's funny when I when I first joined the anarchy scene, there was a lot of like radical clowns. And so there was like clown workshops, but I hear that Gen Z is like obsessed with clowns and all my friends are complaining that like,

um, the dating apps are full of like sexy clowns. Yes. Yes. Clowns, clowns are back in a big way, but we don't have like the the the training to support it there's a lot of like clown aesthetics but not much about actual clowning so hope

hopefully there'll be like a clown renaissance a clownissance if you will in the next five years as as more of the gen z clowns kind of get educated and are able to start providing their own kind of education to the up and coming Gen Alpha clowns or whatever. Would this be at a clown-a-sance festival? I mean, I have gone as a jester to multiple

Ren Fairs. I've gone as a jester with you to a Ren Fair before. Okay, well that has nothing to do with today's story but it's a fun story and that's why i picked it we've been doing a lot of very serious stories which are also very good but i kind of wanted to do something a little bit more light-hearted to make fun of rich people evergreen yeah evergreen fun time i know and it's actually funny because it's a very classic it's a very classic sci-fi story in so many ways even though it's modern you know

yeah yeah yeah this story is called the plastic people raya found the feral child on the edge of the garbage park on the last day of the group's vacation garrison passed out from drinking the better part of a bottle of hundred-year-old scotch had dropped a cigar onto the edge of the canvas tent and set it all on fire i absolutely picked you for the guest uh-huh of this character um yeah i i usually only get garrison keeler because there's not very many of us out there oh i don't know who garrison keeler is i don't know who Garrison Keillor is. I don't know either, but it's the one other person named Garrison in the world. Okay.

That, well, now you know that there's a future Garrison. So. Damn it, Garrison, Ogunye shouted as personal air quality alarms blared. You and your fucking retro addictions. There'd been scrambling and shouting among the five old friends as they tumbled out onto the fetid, methane-rich air outside. Go easy. It isn't something he can do back upstairs. Susie stumbled out of her own tent with a fire extinguisher.

Everyone coughed and spat as she blew the fire out in a cloud of chemical powder. Don't offend him, Ogunye snapped. Ten years, Garrison shouted, clutching the almost empty bottle triumphantly, his heavy boots crunched in the ground, knocking styrofoam chunks into the air. And I still love you all. That's the last bottle, Agonier said, anger suddenly as banked as the tent fire. On this world, Garrison said. Ever. The last bottle of Islay anyone will ever have, Agonier said, and snatched it from Garrison. Rhea listened to the bickering with half an ear

as the orange glow of the fire faded away, as she'd been sure she had seen something skitter past the shadows on the edge of camp. Something's over there, Rhea whispered to Susie. By the fridge. London had been listening to them. She pointed in the direction Rhea indicated and snapped her fingers. The night lit up and two drones dropped out of the air.

Was using them for dance lights, London muttered. But trash rattled and slid down the pile as the intruder scuttled away from the stunningly bright light. Rhea shielded her eyes and tried to follow along as the drones ducked and weaved around the compacted hills of old earth debris. Cornered it, London said triumphantly. Is it a bear? Garrison asked blearily. It's a bear, right? There are no bears, idiot, Susie said. They're extinct, London said. Rhea clambered one of the unsteady trash hills they'd parked the tents between. I see it, she said.

It was a little boy, streaked in grease and mud, ribs visible as the drone lights played over him. His wide, dark eyes stared fearfully at her as he tried to hide behind a cracked porcelain tub. Oh my, London said, clambering over behind Rhea. The poor little thing. Does he live here, Susie asked, disgusted. How?

We just spent three days, Garrison said. It's not that bad. Idiot, Susie said. It's a shithole. It's miles and miles of trash. It reeks. Everywhere I step, there's old world crap. I agree.

While it was fun to see what the old world was like, Agunier threw the last bottle of Islay off into the dark. It shattered against something invisible out there. I think maybe it's time to call it. Let's go home. I'm tired of the gravity, Susie agreed. It's oppressive. We can't leave the child here in the trash, Rhea protested. Garrison groaned. Oh, come on. That's what it's like down here. You know this. They'd flown down into the heart of the dump for their mini reunion. Partying in an exotic location would make an incredible story. All the termites down here

can survive just fine without our help. They love living in places like this, Susie said. Don't think you're doing it any favors. Living here must be a hell. It's a hell they chose to make, Garrison said. This is all theirs. They made it. They know how to live in it. Rhea clambered her way over rusted out heaps and winced when something jabbed through her boots into her skin. She'd had all her shots, though, a prerequisite to coming down. Hey there, she said softly to the scared child. His hair was matted and clumped. He was so covered in muck that he almost blended into the night. She held out a candy bar in her right hand. The child snatched it from her, shredding the plastic wrapping as he ripped

into it with jagged teeth. What's your name? The child just stared at her. Rhea held out a hand. The child just stared at her. Rhea held out a hand. Would you like to come with us? He scuttled back from her and right into Agunye's arms. He'd circled around and snuck up from behind. The child wailed and screamed, but he was a small creature, and Agunye tucked him under an armpit with a quick smile.

Shall we go? Everyone agreed that it was time to end the party, and with Rhea placated, the reunion trickled back into the shuttle for the trip home. Susie strapped into the pilot's seat and activated a return sequence. The main engines lit up and scattered all their camping equipment off to mingle with the rest of the trash park as a silvered ship thundered into the sky with the feral child screaming all the way up to orbit. Rhea tried to give him

a chocolate bar, but he ate the wrapper and bar, pointed teeth ripping into the whole package, then puked it up all over the cabin. You're cleaning that up, Susie shouted as Rhea tried not to throw up herself. And if you want

candy bars, are we sponsored by candy? Sponsored by Big Candy, that's right. We got the 2023 Wonka sponsorship. So line up outside. Every fifth bar gets you one ticket to Book Club. In your ears, though. You still have to plug in

through the headphones but you'll be allowed to listen to book club yeah so yeah as long as you buy enough candy bars that's right offer them to random children and here's those ads Hey guys, I'm Kate Max. You might know me from my popular online series, The Running Interview Show, where I run with celebrities, athletes, entrepreneurs, and more. After those runs, the conversations keep going. That's what my podcast, Run High is all about. It's a chance to sit down with my guests and dive even deeper into their stories, their journeys, and the thoughts that arise once we've hit the pavement together. You know that rush of endorphins you feel after a great workout? Well, that's when the real magic happens. So if you love hearing real, real magic happens. So if you love hearing real, inspiring stories from the people you know,

follow, and admire, join me every week for Post Run High. It's where we take the conversation beyond the run and get into the heart of it all. It's lighthearted, pretty crazy, and very fun. Listen to Post Run High on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Welcome. I'm Danny Thrill. Won't you join me as the fire and dare enter? Nocturnal Tales from the Shadows, presented by iHeart and Sonora. An anthology of modern-day horror stories inspired by the legends of Latin America. From ghastly encounters with shapeshifters to bone-chilling brushes with supernatural creatures. Take a trip and experience the horrors that have haunted Latin America since the beginning of time. Listen to Nocturnal Tales from the Shadows as part of my Cultura podcast network available on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Hey, I'm Jack Peace Thomas, the host of a brand new Black Effect original series, Black Lit. The podcast for diving deep into the rich world of Black literature. I'm Jack Peace Thomas, and I'm inviting you to join me and a vibrant community of literary enthusiasts dedicated to protecting and celebrating our stories. Black Lit is for the page turners, for those who listen to audiobooks while commuting or running errands, for those who find themselves seeking solace, wisdom, and refuge between the chapters. From thought-provoking novels to powerful poetry,

we'll explore the stories that shape our culture. Together, we'll dissect classics and contemporary works while uncovering the stories of the brilliant writers behind them. Black Lit is here to amplify the voices of Black writers and to bring their words to life. Listen to Black Lit on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. And we're back. Scrubbing the mangy child clean took five domestic assistants an hour. It fought free of the butler's first attempt,

and he'd called in the chef and three clean team professionals to get the kid into the tub they wash the dogs in. Mighty Tim, Gonzo, and Ophelia, the three poodles usually the ones unlucky enough to get hauled into the plastic tub in the middle of the mudroom off by the kitchens, barked and ran around in the middle of all the chaos, making the most of the fun. He's a wiry one, the butler observed, stronger than you'd think. It's all that full gravity, the chef said, drying herself off. Rhea watched the chaos unfold on a tablet, patching into the house video feed while enjoying a calming soak in the marble-trimmed upstairs bathroom attached to her unit as she scrubbed away the stink of the old world and half-digested candy bar. The gold-leafed Florida ceiling windows in front of the stink of the old world and half-digested candy bar.

The gold-leafed Florida ceiling windows in front of the bathtub framed the stars beyond. A stunning view, when she stopped to think about it. Mostly, she found that it kept entrancing her personal assistant, so Rhea usually kept the window darkened. On one of the other orbital cities, Rhea spent the night with a man who had his whole bathroom floor transparent. You could look down on the mother planet slowly passing by underneath every minute while taking a shit. Her view won for class. His was the one everyone talked about at the party. Rhea stood up and toweled herself off.

Candy, her PA, had a selection of evening gowns waiting in her room. The one with microblades that could produce enough lift to waft around her legs at a pre-programmed height got the nod. Then it was off down the hall to Mother's dining room, where she was fussing over the layout. Why is there an extra seating, Alay's demanded, hovering over the table as a chef directed the setup. It's for the child, we found, Rhea explained.

Her mother looked utterly perplexed, so Rhea showed her a picture of the site and one of the child, screaming as they rocketed back up to orbit. It's a feral, Rhea said, living in the garbage dump we went to. The dump? Alay's looked horrified. You went down? Susie piloted it. It's safe. How much did that cost? Alay's horror had turned into a vaguely scandalized expression. Rhea had to think about that a second. It was Susie. You know, her father owns the shipping...

Recognition flickered across Alay's face. That's Susie. Exactly. Most of the founding families knew each other well enough by first name, but Mother always struggled with the names of Rhea's friends and which kid matched to which parents. They were just a blur of little people in and out of the house to her. Of course, the house staff knew Rhea's cohort by name. They'd served them enough dinners and requests over the years. Bring the child in, Rhea ordered, and then to her mother.

You wouldn't believe the squalor we found the poor thing in. Well, it is the old world, Elise said. There's a reason we left. Look at what they do to it. It's barely inhabitable. It's hardly a child's fault it was born to it. I've been saying for years we should just put birth control in all the medicine we ship down there from the factories. Don't be so gauche,

Rhea rolled her eyes. You always tried to rescue strays. Remember that little kitten you found over by the garment factory? Mittens. Rhea clenched her jaw. You had it put down. I told you, sweetie. The cats have gotten out of hand in the greenways. They're killing everything and throwing the ecology nets off kilter. We keep having to pull species out of storage to repopulate the gardens. Oh, it's here. The little boy stood at the servant's doorway,

two domestic assistants behind him with hands on his shoulder. They cleaned all the dirt off of him. He was pale, almost sickly so, and so skinny that his shirt and trousers flopped baggily around him. One of the domestic assistants had brushed out his long, stringy hair and braided it. Oh, look at how nicely we've cleaned him up, Rhea said. You're supposed to return a baby bird to the nest, Elise whispered to Rhea as she sat down.

Doesn't this feral have parents? Rhea caught her breath. She hadn't thought about parents. She'd just seen a near-starving child enacted. Not good ones, if he was living in a dump. It stays in your quarters, Elise huffed. I don't want it anywhere near my Rembrandts or the silver and never, ever in my rooms. Come on, little one, Rhea waved at the child.

Come, sit with us. Let's eat. He approached poor thing so tentatively, much like the kitten Elise mentioned, nervous about trusting the outstretched hand. Unlike Mittens, the child pulled out a chair and sat down as instructed. Does it speak? Elise asked the domestic assistants. It screams, Miss Rhea. Rhea patted the child's hand and he flinched. Don't be like that, Rhea said. We rescued you. Everything's going to be better now. The child whimpered. Rhea looked out over the first course being set out and frowned.

Let's get you something so magical it'll cheer you right up. Something you never would have experienced in that nasty dump. Ice cream. Now that was the ticket. Rhea ordered it delivered with chocolate sauce drizzled on the top. There we are, she said, pushing the bowl over. Try this. The child bared teeth. Good God, they're filed to a point, Elise shuddered. Rhea scooped a spoonful of ice cream and held it up. Try it. She took a chilly bite and smiled at him. He nibbled at the spoon when she moved it back over, persuaded by her enjoyment. He shuddered as his tongue hit cold, smiled, then ate the rest of the bite.

Soon he had his face in the bowl, licking it clean. That's a boy, Reyes said. He sampled more food, but right when Elise and Reyes started on their Kobe beef, he clutched his stomach and looked at them

with an almost comical, confused look, and then threw up all over the dinner table. Elise stood up, threw her napkin down at the mess, and declared, I'm going to visit Lars at Lunar North. Call me when you come to your senses.

The domestic assistant swooped in to clean up the mess and the boy. Rhea, in a funk, retired to her room to brood over what had gone wrong. She'd started this with the best of intentions, but it wasn't going to plan now. Her mother had her drudgy face on, the domestic assistants looked annoyed, and she could hear the child screaming and fussing away from somewhere deeper inside the family estate.

Hell, she didn't even know the child's name. One of the engineering staff came back in with the boy. We weren't sure where you wanted him to stay. Before Rhea could say anything, the child ran toward the window at the back of the living room. Earth, he said, pressing against the thick glass, his large brown eyes filled with tears. He can speak, Rhea said.

Thank goodness. She'd started to worry that maybe the ferals back down on the planet had started to lose the capacity to speak. But that didn't make any sense, as they all purchased medicines, weapons, and other supplies from many of the family businesses that still did trade below them. She assumed that you had to be able to speak to do that. Earth, the child said.

Back to that nasty dump? Rhea shook her head Look around you Look at everything I can give you I rescued you The wealthy had left Earth long ago Moved manufacturing to orbit Moved all their wealth up Even scraped off all the good soil

So they could grow whatever they wanted in orbit Some people felt they had abandoned Earth Or turned their backs on its suffering That only the very rich could afford to get to orbit And that they'd walked away from their responsibilities orbit. Some people felt they had abandoned Earth or turned their backs on its suffering. That only the very rich could afford to get to orbit, and that they had walked away from their responsibility to be stewards. It was the ancestors of the wealthy who had done so much damage on their way to being rich. For Rhea's family, it was mainly held that if one really wanted to work hard enough, anyone could get into space. Those left behind

had simply not applied themselves. This child's ancestors had not applied themselves, but Rhea had rescued it. The least the child could do was show some gratitude. Instead, he wiped snot from his nose and sniffed at the window until Rhea's patience broke. The only word the child seemed to know was earth. She left the estate for a walk to clear her mind and meet up with Agunye for some actual conversation. And if you want your golden ticket, Garrison to Space, every fifth candy bar.

Every fifth candy bar. New, new, Musk-branded Wonka candy bar is coming soon. That's right. They'll get you a free trip to Mars, one way. One-way ticket, though. God, wouldn't it be great if... I'm all in favor of Elon Musk personally attempting to get to Mars with all the richest people in the world.

Oh, yeah, yeah, no. I'm all for one-way tickets to Mars. Oh, I don't think they'll make it. really uh well yeah i mean i'm not big into gambling but i would be so happy either way that i would absolutely gamble on this no matter what happens everyone wins yeah uh i think the best would be is if they like set up really nice stuff on mars and then die uh and then when you know people try and go there there's like nice stuff anyway yeah that that that would be cool but i think you're putting a little little too much faith in their infrastructure ability yeah that's built to set up nice stuff on mars in the first place yeah i've seen how badly their cars are made

i love that we're supposed to be impressed by their space rockets as if like before i was born we hadn't put a human onto the moon by way of yeah math done by women with notebooks no i mean we we had we had like wizards in the nevada desert like launching rockets with like crowley's space journals in like the 1940s which led to the space program and these fuckers can't manage to get something up into orbit consistently yeah pretty pretty pretty funny stuff yeah because they're all fucking grifting each other anyway what's not a grift are actually a lot of these ads are probably these ads yeah here they are hey guys i'm kate max you might know me from my popular online series, The Running Interview Show, where I run with celebrities, athletes, entrepreneurs, and more. After those runs,

the conversations keep going. That's what my podcast, Post Run High, is all about. It's a chance to sit down with my guests and dive even deeper into their stories, their journeys, and the thoughts that arise once we've hit the pavement together. You know that rush of endorphins you feel after a great workout? Well, that's when the real magic happens. So if you love hearing real, inspiring stories

from the people you know, follow, and admire, join me every week for Post Run High. It's where we take the conversation beyond the run and get into the heart of it all. It's lighthearted, pretty crazy, and very fun. Listen to Post Run High on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts. Welcome. I'm Danny Thrill. Won't you join me at the fire and dare enter. Nocturnum, Tales from the Shadows, presented by iHeart and Sonora.

An anthology of modern day horror stories inspired by the legends of Latin America. From ghastly encounters with shapeshifters to bone-chilling brushes with supernatural creatures. I know you. Take a trip and experience the horrors that have haunted Latin America since the beginning of time. Listen to Nocturnal Tales from the Shadows as part of my Cultura podcast network, available on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Hey, I'm Jack B. Thomas, the host of a brand new Black Effect original series, Or wherever you get your podcasts. of literary enthusiasts dedicated to protecting and celebrating our stories. Black Lit is for the

page turners, for those who listen to audiobooks while commuting or running errands, for those who find themselves seeking solace, wisdom, and refuge between the chapters. From thought-provoking novels to powerful poetry, we'll explore the stories that shape our culture. Together, we'll dissect classics and contemporary works while uncovering the stories of the brilliant writers behind them. Black Lit is here to amplify the voices of Black writers and to bring their words to life. Listen to Black Lit on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

And we're back into the economic system that we all live in. Here's the story. Erewhon Orbital's carefully landscaped gardens curved up until they met the ceiling, a transparent metal that let you look in toward the center of the orbital, where the heavy infrastructure and docks all clustered around a needle-shaped hub. The ring shape of the orbital let it spin, and the insides of the hoop dripped with greenery that teams of biota specialists worked overtime to keep in balance. Getting a forest to stay alive against cosmic rays, occasional pressure losses from punctures, and the gyrations of a life support system closed in so tight that problems cascaded around

in dizzying complexities. Rhea had studied systems management for a whole agonizing three months, idly toying with the idea of becoming part of the ecosystem management team on one of the orbitals. But five minutes near a sewer processing plant deep in the bowels of Erewhon had her change her mind. a management team on one of the orbitals. But five minutes near a sewer processing plant deep in the bowels of Erewhon had her change her mind. She joined her father's team of orbital

arbitrage specialists, flipping futures contracts based on complicated home-in transfers and cargo manifests through cislunar space, a much more dependable income stream. Not that she needed much. The family endowment created back when her great grandfather lived on Earth and decided to start building orbitals as a lark with the extra billions lying around would always take care of her. You had to do something or life became awfully boring quickly enough. Agunye met her in the scent garden, running his hands over lilacs and breathing them in with a smile. Hungover or still drunk? Hi. Hello to you, Reyes said, stopping by a striking clump of mini cedar trees. No, I'm high. Agunye took a deep

breath. Come on, Agunye, really? After a treat like the one we had? Agunye smiled and joined her by the cedars. Just a small buzz, Take the edge off. Susie still mad at you? Susie wouldn't speak or return messages right now. She'll get over it in a week. That little creature threw up everywhere. Aguilera picked up a stick and scratched at it. The smell of cedar filled the air between them. Then I threw up.

It was a horror movie in there. It'll take more than a week. Ray aside, maybe I need to send her an apology. Ah, there you go. It was a horror movie in there. It'll take more than a week. Rhea sighed. Maybe I need to send her an apology. Ah, there you go. Something decadent and not easy to find anywhere in Erewhon. Agonyé took out a lighter and ceremoniously handed it to her. I'll have to have my people think of something, Rhea said, flicking it off and on.

It would be a good thing to set her personal assistant to. She hadn't spoken to him since she'd stuck him researching equipment for the trip that caused this whole mess. That's the spirit. It's the personal thought that counts, Agunye said. That should help her forget all the vomit in her hair. He looked pointedly over at the cedars. The child's still throwing up, Rhea confessed. It's pissing me off. I try to do the right thing and it goes all wrong. It's the story of my life, Agonier. Everything is always a struggle. Rhea held the lighter up to one of the branches in front of them. The flame flickered as it scorched the bark and they both patiently waited for it to catch and quicken. You know, Agonier said thoughtfully as the tree began to burn. You might need to get checked over. Hmm? Rhea stepped back as the flames leapt higher.

A doctor? You didn't take the child through customs, like they have to. He nodded at the grounds crew, respectfully approaching with extinguishers. Agunye held up a hand so they stopped 20 feet away and waited. Oh shit, Rhea said. We could have all been exposed to some exotic earth bug, Agunye said. I'd get yourself checked up, or you might be the one vomiting everywhere. We had our booster shots. Nevertheless. The smell of burning cedar made her mouth water. Rhea made an appointment to have a doctor come in tomorrow,

and she left the gardens to go have dinner with Agunye, a floating restaurant with a liquid menu nestled in two of all places, the docks at the center of Erewhon. What do you think the grounds crew would do without us? Agunye wondered later, as they hung in the air near an old wooden deck taken from some famous once-sunken ship and sucked at galactic swirls of soup carefully deconstructed in the air between them.

Rhea poked a dumpling with a finger and watched it wobble its way towards Agunye's nose. He dipped his head at the last second to bite at it, but it tumbled away from his chin. They wouldn't have a job if it wasn't for us, Rhea said. We'd have to send them away. Where? We're an orbital. It's not my job to think about those things, Rhea protested, and splashed broth droplets at him.

The doctor came much later the next day, held up by an accident at the docks or something silly like that, and by then the vomiting kid had been passed from assistant to assistant all through the house and then exiled to one of the pool rooms. But after a painful blood draw and some checks on his machine and a few scans, the doctor looked over his glasses to clear her. The scan results on the glasses, full of complex imagery, reflected off his green eyes. Everything comes in normal, and you had your full complement of booster shots before you left.

Thank goodness, she said. But I'm glad you checked in. Can't be too safe. He started to pack up his equipment. I'm so relieved, Rhea said, letting out the breath she'd been holding as she waited for the verdict. I thought maybe the boy had given me something. The doctor turned back, eyebrows raised.

Rhea groaned and rolled her eyes. No, not that. It's the child we brought back up with us. He keeps vomiting. Well, maybe I should see him, the doctor said. Rhea sighed. Okay, sure. She explained how they'd found the child as she led the doctor through the hallways to the pool room. The large clear blister that held the pool bulged out beyond Erewhon's metal hall. If you dove down into it, you could look

out along the outside of Erewhon or down at the earth. You could swim out into space. The domestic assistants had put the child in one of the bamboo cabanas around the pool, but he was sitting on the edge of the pool and looking down through it to Earth. Home, he asked, a whole new word since she'd last been around him. Rhea idly wondered if they were, indeed, passing over his home as she looked down through the pool at the blurred landmasses below them. Rhea took out her diamond-tipped heels and sat with her feet in the water as the doctor ran scans, and then had to fight with the boy for a blood draw. He's malnourished, was the pronouncement, and you've been feeding him the

wrong food. The wrong food? Rhea frowned. I don't understand. We gave him the best food. He ate our table. The house chef prepared the meal. The doctor carefully unwrapped a candy bar and handed the wrapper over. The child chewed on it, his sharp teeth shredding it quickly before he swallowed in a noisy gulp. He's modified, the doctor said, his tone patient and completely polite, yet infuriating somehow. All the surface folk are, since the turn of the century. There are microbes that eat plastic. Those capabilities were grafted onto the human genome.

He eats plastic. They had to do that, or they'd all starve. Don't you remember this from history class? History class? Do you remember the Exodus? Her great-grandparents leaving the messy, despoiled Earth behind for the skies and other planets. Boring talks about trans-lunar independence movements.

The old democracies failing on Earth and the great die-offs. She vaguely remembered something about plastic. She should have paid more attention, but Eric had sat next to her in history, and she'd been so distracted. I guess I need to call Susie and see if we can put him back down, Rhea said, finally. Susie couldn't do it. Her family had found out she'd used the ship without clearing it and she was, ha ha, grounded. Nothing Rhea could say about humans being modified

to eat trash in order to survive after being left on the surface made a difference. The child was stuck on Arrow One. Garrison agreed to come over, but he didn't have anything to offer other than too many attempts to touch her hand or knee or get close to her. I think he really needs to get put somewhere where he can eat, she told Garrison. It's not going to be good for him in her house. We don't have that much plastic on a house scale. No oil in space. Plastics came from plants,

and it made more sense to eat plants than waste them on packaging. But Rhea knew where most of the plastics ended up. Come on, Garrison. Help me take him to the vats. Garrison groaned, but she finally promised that she'd make it up to him afterwards. He was convinced he was going to get laid, but she was really thinking about the bottle of Macallan in the family vault. Or maybe she'd save the priceless scotch and fool around. Sex wouldn't be a bad way to kill some of her frustrations later. Garrison helped wrestle the child into a cart, and they drove over to the vats where they pulled him through the airlock. It reeks, Garrison said. It wasn't quite the trash parks of Earth, but it was the holding area for acres of Erewhon's own trash before it got scrunched off to the recycling vats.

Here you go, Rhea said. You can live here now. All the food you need. The child looked at her, not getting it. Go on. It took some convincing, some shouting, and a little subterfuge, but then finally got the boy to settle in between two hill-sized mounds of trash, munching contentedly away on some plastic carry bags.

At the airlock, Rhea took one last look back. This is where I had to leave Mittens, she said sadly. Mittens? My cat. Oh. I wish, Rhea trailed off, forming her thoughts. I wish our families hadn't been forced to leave Earth and take everything with them. If they'd been allowed to stay, maybe they could have used their resources to help make things better. Garrison stared at her. Who said they were forced?

Rhea frowned. My family, that's... He laughed. We left because we could. Because we're better, richer, superior. Garrison hit the button, and the airlock doors thudded shut, leaving the Earth child alone in their trash. He tried to take her back to the family house,

but she dropped him off at his penthouse, disappointed. Garrison would be on his own for the night, and without the antique scotch. Rhea sat on the edge of the pool, looking down at the earth passing by on each rotation of the orbital's great wheel, until it was time for dinner. By then, her vague sense of guilt or responsibility had passed. You couldn't save every broken stray, even with the best intentions, she decided. Is that the story yeah that's the story all righty i like how it's um subtle and would really take a lot of work to deconstruct what it's talking about here yeah very very lofty kind of far out far out ideas it's it's it's uh diving into very fantasy

very fantasy yeah there's nothing like this as any there's no real world parallels to you know the way people treat um we would never eat plastic what are you talking about well that part's like that's the only utopian part we would They would never put plastic in our food. What do you mean? Yeah. Oh, God, I wasn't even thinking about microplastics. No, yeah. We definitely don't eat a credit card's worth of plastic every week.

It's fine. Whoa, do we really? I might be wrong on the week there. Let's see. Is this like the five spiders a year thing, or is this like real? Yes. This is real. I do believe it. I mean, there's...

I think about when I compost where I compost shredded paper and shredded cardboard. And that means that I'm composting things with tiny amounts of plastic in it. Because there's tiny little bits of plastic. it because like you know there's tiny little

bits of plastic yes every every week we eat about a credit card's worth of plastic isn't that cool yeah it's good for us isn't that an uplifting thought about civilization yeah i like how we look back at the people who like ate off of lead plates and are like fucking morons those idiots those fools yeah they didn't know better back then unlike us the enlightened modern people yeah well what's funny is we do know better and we just like can't do anything about it well yeah because we're the we're not reaya and garrison in this story no no we're the trash child yes absolutely all we can do is make a mountain out of our trash and maybe subterranean tunnels in the trash i propose a dual power solution to this where we build out our infrastructure on the trash planet

a dual power solution to this where we build out our infrastructure on the trash planet we're also strengthening our forces to overtake the spaceships but i i'm sure i'm sure the anti civs will just try to blow up blow up the ships in the first place so yeah and you know i don't want to like stop them from trying but i i do want to eventually also get the spaceships yeah yeah i mean it is it is part of i think humanity's quest for the heaven i read too much octavia butler to be like anti-humans figuring out a way to space i just don't want it to be colonized by the rich bastards we have which is really really the only way to see which unfortunately is the only way where it's like it looks like it's gonna happen because also if if there was ever like an anarchist space program it would be sabotaged by other anarchists it's just not it's just not possible there was a huge uh in the like 1910s and then in 1920s

in russia there were the anarcho-cosmists and they were like i mean it was mostly this sort of weird theological i mean um political movement where they were going to like resurrect the dead and like have like gay space communism basically nice nice yeah yeah yeah but they were some of the last anarchists that the that the ussr put up with because they were a little bit like lost in their own heads and not doing much political stuff yeah that's that's why why I do kind of respect the anarchists who, like, cling on to Star Trek as, like, a utopian future. Despite Starfleet's many problems,

it still is, like, one of, like, the better, like, end results for, like, humanity. And even, like, the Earth. the earth because like the earth's doing great in star trek's future as well like it it it survives total cataclysm and now it's like a very very healthy ecosystem for animals and humans and other animals and plants and fungi and the whales that talk to uh space signals so yeah that's why I want to have both. We have to solve the problems of the problem of the rich people. And then we can have both space and a green utopia here on earth.

And in the meantime, that would be nice. Don't steal children from places that have been impoverished. Places that have been impoverished by first world, you know, like. You know, I can't think of any examples of rich people coming into impoverished by first world you know like you know i can't think of any any examples of rich people coming into impoverished areas and just kidnapping children no i i cannot

imagine where the author might be might be pulling that outrageous idea yeah totally totally it's just science fiction i i will say i do like the idea of having a bathroom where i can just look down into space in the floor yeah just like sitting on the toilet just like staring into the abyss i want to swim in that see that's why it's like i want the nice stuff for everyone i want to swim in the like bubble pool that looks out over all of everything yeah no we should we should bring back like like like like the uh like the roman public baths but just put just put them in space for everybody go have your space bath yeah no that that is the one uh speaking of star trek again when when uh william shatner was

hoisted up to almost outer space on i think it was jeff bezos's uh uh penis shaped rocket he wrote he's his like his immediate like he he thought he'd be like filled with like wonder and awe and he's like no space is terrifying there's nothing there it's just an abyss of darkness we need to go back to earth earth is where the life is of space was terrifying which i do find to be a very a very fun reaction as well as you like stare into like absolute oblivion like the cold death of everything and you're like no no there's like light on the earth let's go back to yeah but you know if i'm like hung over and i'm puking into a and i'm puking into a toilet i would also like to just look off to the side into the abyss and see how I feel about it.

And then I can decide if I want to go back to puking in the toilet. That makes sense. Well, it's because you didn't eat enough plastic. That's right! I hadn't got my credit cards worth in. It's a hangover cure that everyone should try. Well, the classic promo

at the end of this for us is that we both have podcasts what's your podcast that you might be listening to the feed of already dear listener well i spend a lot of time working on a podcast called it could happen here one of my more recent projects that i'm proud of is a Halloween special I put together about the Oregon Ghost Conference. And then I also, I kind of made a follow-up episode about this tech company called MindBank AI, who wants to trap your brain inside a computer. So those projects are my most recent favorite things I've worked on. Those can be found on the It Could Happen Here feed, wherever you get your podcasts. I liked the Ghost Conference conference one i didn't dislike the other one but the ghost

conference was really good um it was fun i had i had i had a great time it's fun to hear from a someone who's skeptical around the grift around ghost stuff but is not like a like raw pure angry atheist yeah you know i'm not like a reddit like debunker i'm i like i i think a lot of these these ideas have some conceptual basis in the way that they interact with like our brain and how we form like phenomenons that create our reality but also i think the way that a lot of these ghost hunters are going about it is maybe slightly uh misguided and it's kind of missing the point of what these concepts were like invented for in the first place. And it is certainly a really interesting area to be in when I'm like when I'm when I'm like in these paranormal spaces because I I believe in a lot of weirder stuff that they do.

Yeah, but I don't believe in the type of weird thing they do. And it's certainly an interesting thing to navigate. Yeah. No, I, it comes across and it's good listening. And if you're listening to this on the, it could happen here feed,

you can listen to my podcast that comes out every Monday and Wednesday called cool people who did cool stuff where I talk about history and people who were cool, who did cool things. Actually, a lot of times I have to talk about complicated people who look cool on the surface and then you realize that they kind of sucked but they still did cool things because we're all you say that are you saying that cool people are not universally good yeah in every single way about their life yeah and bummer if you want to know more about

tobias buckell, you should Google him. And his latest book is called A Stranger in the Citadel. I haven't gotten to read it yet. I've read a lot of his other stuff. But John Scalzi, author of the Kaiju Preservation Society, has this to say about Toby's latest book. With A Stranger in the Citadel, Tobias Buckell writes, to the moment we live in with a clarity and urgency that only fable can provide, read it. So I will leave you all with that and talk to you next week on Sunday for the Cool Zone Book Club.

Bye, everyone. It Could Happen Here is a production of Cool Zone Media. For more podcasts from Cool Zone Media, visit our website, coolzonemedia.com, or check us out on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to podcasts. You can find sources for It Could Happen Here updated monthly at coolzonemedia.com. Thanks for listening. Hey guys, I'm Kate Max. You might know me from my popular online series, The Running Interview Show, where I run with celebrities, athletes, entrepreneurs, and more. After those runs, the conversations keep going. That's what my podcast, Post Run High, is all about. It's a chance to sit down with my guests and dive even deeper into their stories, their journeys, and the thoughts that arise once we've hit the pavement together. Listen to Post-Run High on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

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Submit your podcast for nomination now at iHeart.com slash podcast awards. But hurry, submissions close on December 8th. Hey, you've been doing all that talking. It's time to get rewarded for it. Submit your podcast today at iHeart.com slash podcast awards. That's iHeart.com slash podcast awards.