The Crop

         “Come on, babies, grow,” Ivan Hayes muttered anxiously.  He knelt at the edge of his field, scanning the well-worked soil for signs of life.  Nothing.  He was starting to get worried.  If this field failed to grow, it could spell the end for the fledgling colony.  He had worked hard for years planning this farm.  He worked with the scientists who did the soil analysis and the genetic modifications to ensure human-friendly crops could grow in the soil of Erebus.  He planned the logistics for years, successfully lobbied to ensure his farming implements were among the first pieces offloaded from the colony ship.  The laboratory simulations and experimentation could not, much as they tried, duplicate all the conditions found on this alien world, however, and it all came down to this.  It was do-or-die, quite literally, for if the crops failed to grow, this colony would likely starve to death.

         There was a possibility that the botanical and agricultural survey teams would find edible plants or fruits native to the planet, and possibly even some that could be cultivated and farmed on a large scale, but no one knew yet if such foods existed, let alone whether they would contain sufficient nutritional content to sustain them.

         Ivan stood, disappointed, eyes squinting in the sun, and looked out over his empty field.  He shook his head turned back toward the shed.  He took the transport buggy away from the farm and over a low rise toward the city center.  He swung wide around the collection of prefabricated buildings, some still being assembled.  He directed the buggy past the village, and down an embankment to where the Changs were building their rice paddies in the plain adjacent to the river.  He parked next to the equipment shed and walked over to where Hiram Chang was squatted on the edge of a flooded rice paddy.

         “Ni hao, Hiram.”  He stood and turned to greet his visitor.

         “Ivan!  Hello!”  Hiram returned exuberantly.  Hiram Chang’s sunny outlook was one of the reasons he was selected for this project.  Being the latest in a line of at least 17 generations of Chinese rice farmers was the other.  His family was so successful in rice farming, in fact, that one out of ten grains of rice produced terrestrially came from one of his families farms.  The men approached and clasped hands.

         “How is the rice?”  Ivan asked.  Hiram jumped at the opportunity to showcase his farm.

         “We planted these two this morning,” he said, gesturing to the two flooded squares near where they stood.  He pointed further out, “Those four will be planted by the end of the week, and the remaining six, which are still being built, should be ready next week.  All is going very well!”

         “So you think it’s going to grow?”  Ivan asked pessimistically.

         “Of course, don’t you?”  Hiram seemed confused at Ivan’s doubt.

         “I’ve just started getting worried, that’s all.  I would have liked to have seen some signs of growth in my field by now.”

         Hiram saw what was going on in Ivan’s head.  He put a hand on Ivan’s shoulder.

         “Ivan, my family has grown rice on all seven continents on Earth, on mountains, river plains, jungles, and in cities.  We have grown rice in a habitat at the bottom of the ocean, on the moon, in zero-G in orbit, and on Mars.  We have also had countless crops fail for various reasons.  After seventeen generations of mistakes and failures along with successes, do you think there is anything we don’t know about growing rice?”  Hiram smiled, waiting for an answer.

         “No,” Ivan obliged.

         “Then if rice can be grown here, we are the best chance to make it happen.  If we can’t do it, no one can.  You are the same with your American crops, are you not?”

         “I am,” Ivan stated.

         “Then, if you can’t do it, no one can.  You’ve thought of everything, planned everything, and done everything you can do, you just have to have faith and patience that it will all work out.  There’s no sense in brooding over what may or may not be.  Your father knew that.”

         This last statement stung a little.  Ivan’s father had been a hero of the space program that enabled the establishment of this colony.  He died saving his ship and her crew, so that they could complete their mission.  His name and story was widely known and celebrated.

         “You’re right, Hiram.  There’s just an awful lot riding on this first crop.”

         “There is, and I feel it too, but you must realize that the consequences of failure do not change the principles of farming.  Just do what you know the crops need.  The rest will follow.” 

         The two men talked a while longer and had lunch together in Hiram’s cabin.  In the afternoon they both joined many of the others for a meeting the Colonial Administrator held, to update everyone on the progress everyone else was making.  The lumber mill was nearly finished, which would mean they could cut and finish timber to build more structures than just the pre-fabricated buildings they had brought with them.  The water filtration system on the river was now up and running.  Hiram reported the progress on his rice paddies.  Someone read a brief report from one of the exploratory teams out in the field.  When it came around to Ivan, he reported with newfound optimism that his crop was planted and showed great promise.  After the meeting, several people talked afterword.  Ivan stayed a while to talk, then left just as the sun began setting.

He parked the buggy in the shed, and started toward his cabin, when he had a sudden change of mind and walked out toward the edge of the field.  He knelt on the soft dirt and put his hand on the ground.

         “You’re doing great, my babies, keep it up,” he said.  A single green shoot returned his gaze.  He smiled softly and went inside.



1000 words

Co-Winner, The Writer's Cramp, 8/08/10

The Prompt was "write about a person who talks to their plants"