Submitted for the February 2024 prompt: On This Special Day

"No time for breakfast, Mom!" Malika called out as she grabbed her bookbag. "I'll eat at the fair!"

Earth Day meant the elevators were on solar power and for emergencies only. She took the apartment stairs down two at a time, sidestepping slower Belvedere Housing residents. She waved her exit pass and stepped onto the 5th Avenue pier. She missed the seven o'clock gondola and would have to row a Citi-scull by herself down a crowded canal. Darnit!

 

Everyone seemed happy to be off-grid for the day, even the kids forced to be outdoors. At least they could enjoy the sun glinting off mountainous skyscrapers and their dormant ad-screen windows. Even the El-trains weren't running, and the silence was overpowering yet welcomed. She rowed alongside the other Nueva Yorkers in a typical Earth Day hush.

Malika docked at the 59th Street pier and saw her Z-school pal, Dane. He was downing a caffeine-stim drink to curb his screen-time withdrawal.

"Hey Mal! Lottery winner!" Dane's pale, spindly legs attempted what Malika thought was a jig.

"Yup, that's me." She let her dark brown curls cover her sun-specs and blushed. "It's not a big deal. Some people got bigger prizes."

"No, it's huge. Can I see the ticket?" asked Dane, with a smile that reminded her of the day he told the class his great-great-grandfather once cut down his own Christmas tree. Malika had been horrified, but no one else seemed to care. That was how things were, her mom had said. She shoved her thoughts into her pocket, where the wooden token was burning a hole, her pass to enter Central Park's domed Great Hill.

"Later," she said. Together, they walked through the Arboretum. The glass tanks that held the floating photosynthesizing algae rolled and bubbled like jellies. Large spikes kept pigeons from nesting and blocking the solar panels and oxygen ports that allowed park goers to breathe easier. If Malika squinted, she could imagine a forest with naked branches reaching for the sky. Dane smeared his prints along the glass as they walked.

"There was once an ice rink here," said Dane.

"No way! Why bother when the canals freeze every winter?" Malika shook her head in disbelief. Her classmates wintered in Aridzona. They sent photos of cacti while she skated everywhere running errands for her family. She'd never been out of the city. You needed passports, but her family didn't have the credits.

They arrived at the fairgrounds, which had once been a zoo.

"Did you know there used to be a polar bear here?" Malika asked Dane, sharing her Central Park arcana.

"Why bother when there are so many videos of them? Waste of money. This is much better," said Dane swirling on concrete flooring to a dizzying array of food stalls, E-boat dealerships, and rental brokerages. One would think that all that humanity had left to enjoy was eating, boating, and renting.

They ran to a stall for Cup-O-Mud: chocolate pudding filled with gummy worms. After devouring its waffle cup, they journeyed uptown toward Great Hill. Walkers and cyclists shared the paved trails that once surrounded mighty lawns but were now lakes. Couples took selfies aboard swan boats. Others sunned themselves atop floating platforms.

"Once this park had real trees. That must have been magical," said Malika.

"Trees are overrated. They drop leaves and seeds. Grandpa says they’re messy. Plus, cell towers kinda look like them." Dane's grandparents lived in Westchester, a suburb known for replacing trees with fences and paving yards for their cars.

Malika's love for trees began while looking through family albums. She saw pictures of her grandmother under a magnolia tree. An umbrella of flowers. She'd seen other trees and evergreens online. These filled her with warm fantasies during cold winters.

She was lost in thought when a scooter struck her on her side. Dane grabbed her before she fell into the lake.

"Sorry!" said the scooter-man speeding away.

"Thanks, Dane,” said Malika, straightening herself. “Yikes, I’m late." Together, they ran to the entrance crowded with people. "We made it!"

"Have fun!" yelled Dane, taking off.

Malika put her hands into her pocket and felt nothing. She checked another pocket and another.

"Dane!" He was already lost among the lottery winners awaiting the dome's opening. Great Hill, once a place to picnic and frolic, had been covered to protect it from city dwellers whose numbers had outnumbered its blades of grass. Earth Day lottery was the only way in.

Perhaps it had fallen of her pocket. Malika couldn't imagine Dane stealing. Yet part of her knew it was in his blood to ruin beautiful things.

Just as she was about to retrace her steps, there was an announcement.

"Malika Lakadee report to archway seven. Malika Lakadee!"

Malika ran. Once there she saw a sullen and reproachful Dane surrounded by rangers. They handed her the token.

"I just thought I could use it to get in. It’s not fair!" Malika heard him scream as the rangers escorted her into the dome.

Irradiated, air-blasted, and backpack secured, she walked onto the field. She'd dreamed of this. Malika took off her shoes and felt the grass tickle her feet. She ran. Though the breeze was generated, the thrill was real.

She arrived breathlessly at a small pavilion in the center of the hundred-acre preserve. A ranger watched over a series of plots. She stood near a patch of exposed soil no bigger than a cellphone.

"Your tree awaits!" said the ranger, pointing to the token she still held. She had been stroking the wood, never realizing its underlying importance. "That has DNA… an oak if I'm not mistaken."

Malika knelt down on the grass as if in prayer, gently cupping the token with one hand as she scooped out soil with the other. She planted her seed.

"Grow big, grow strong."

"Perhaps your kid will win the lottery and see your tree one day."

Malika, age twelve, knew it would be worth the wait.