Huairou, Beijing, China, June 26, 2063. The greenhouses now stand empty. Clear canvasses
that once covered each greenhouse are now ripped open and yellowed with age. The only crops
now growing in the greenhouses are weeds and an occasional cash crop – remnants from the
height of the Cooperative.
The Cooperative’s employees (my former neighbors) continue to live in the apartments but
they now make their way to the courtyard only to play chess and chit-chat.
The Cooperative and the Central Government made the grave mistake of not considering the
water woes associated with Northeast China’s harsh environment. Due to the massive growth in
the Beijing area, the stress on China’s water resources resulted in prioritizing water use for city
dwellers, followed by industrial enterprises. Last in line was agricultural use.
Greenhouses, once a dominant feature of commercial farming in Northeast China, are now
relegated to areas south, which receive exponentially more amounts of rainfall.
I’ve long since retired. The only vegetables grown on my farm provide the only sustenance for
my family, as well as a meager pay-out from Government to buy some protein.
As I peer in the direction of the closest greenhouse, I see an errant corn stalk growing
upwards in between a crack in the walls. Somehow it survived, despite a lack of sustenance. It’s
almost as hearty as my old self, but of late, its demise is made certain by the drooping of the
stems caused by the rotting ears that were never harvested.
