Shift
I am so sick of this planet.
This is the only home I’ve ever known, but I truly hate it. It’s the stories, see? My Gran always tells me the most wonderful stories that have been passed down, generation to generation, to preserve the knowledge of the Old World. I’m not sure how much the stories have changed over the years, or if they were ever true to begin with, but hearing about the Old World makes me completely dissatisfied with the world I’m in.
Okay, to be fair, there’s nothing inherently wrong with our way of living here. Especially since we haven’t ever experienced a different way to live. Anyone who would have remembered the true facts of the Old World from experience died off ages ago. And I mean ages. I don’t know what they plan to call the one we’re in now, but I know the last one was the Age of Mobilization and the one before that was the Age of Construction. The Age of Colonization is the first one recorded for this world and that’s when all those Old World folks kicked it. Most of them were just incredibly old, but they say it also had something to do with the change in gravity or atmosphere or whatever.
Our history articles say that the original settlers came here because the Old World got too crowded or ran out of resources or something, but that’s not what Gran said. She told me, as she was told, that the original settlers came here just to see what would happen. It was an experiment. Gran even said that one of the original families won tickets for the excursion on a game show. A freaking game show!
I don’t know why they didn’t just turn around once they got here. Compared to Gran’s stories, this world is pathetic. And yeah, I know Gran never actually saw the Old World, but if even a fraction of the tales are accurate I can tell you right now that the original settlers were stupid for staying here. They should have figured out in a matter of months, days even, that this place was a bad idea.
Why? Because this stupid planet, unlike the Old World, doesn’t get proper seasons. Gran has all these stories about the Old World having a calendar of seasons with pleasant weather changes and celebrations to welcome the new time. Gran says there were three seasons: Sprung, Harvest, and Winterfall. She told me once that she liked her Pa’s stories about Sprung best, but of course he had never really seen it either. I think I would like Winterfall the most, but to be honest anything would be better than what we’ve got here. I guess if you had to pick one, Harvest sounds like the closest match.
Eternal Harvest.
Thanks to the Shift schedule and the cranks; every day before Mum heads off to work we listen to the Shift broadcast to find out the crank number for the day. The crank number is pretty much exactly what it sounds like. It’s how many rotations we have to turn the crank. That task has fallen to me because we’re supposed to turn the crank when the bells sound, and by then Mum has already left for her shift at the clinic and Pa hasn’t yet returned from the lab. It’s not hard to do or anything. I just hate that this stupid world makes it necessary. Every single household has to help turn the cranks when the bells sound or the whole system will get off track and start to fall apart. If that happens, we could all die.
They tried explaining it to us in school, but most of it went over my head. Basically, the planet has a tilt that affects the weather and if we stayed in one place the changing climate would be so severe that nothing would survive. The original settlers addressed the problem by packing up and moving frequently, but there were too many complications with that plan. I think that’s where the gravity or atmosphere part came in, but I could be wrong. Anyway, they started to build their homes on wheels to make moving easier. Then somebody had the bright idea that if they shifted their position daily in smaller increments they would have a better chance at not getting caught in severe climate changes.
That’s when the Age of Construction began.
The settlers started constructing tracks to completely surround the planet in a route that would keep the colony in the safe zone between the frigid and arid climates. Huge tracks. Large enough to transport a giant round platform, which itself is big enough to hold acres of farmland, research facilities, warehouses and more than enough housing for the entire population. When the platform completed the first full rotation and the last sections of track were set in place, the Age of Mobilization brought in a new method for shifting the platform.
The cranks.
The crank at our house is in the rear yard. We get the crank number, usually between ten and fifteen, from the Shift broadcast and wait for the bells. Every day. When the bell sounds we turn the crank handle, which rotates a shaft that is connected to a series of large gears. The crank isn’t difficult to turn, but you can definitely tell when the neighbors aren’t in sync. Mostly from the noise; that screeching of metal on metal thanks to my lazy neighbor is also part of why I hate it here.
There are all sorts of rumors going around about improvements to the system. Pa works with the research team that studies the planet’s position and tracks the weather to calculate the daily crank numbers. He mentioned recently that his lab is playing around with ideas for automation. He says all the mechanics are in place except for the turning of the cranks, but they are supposedly getting closer to a solution. It has something to do with an heirloom fob watch Pa’s supervisor got when his Gramp died. Pa has always been fascinated by clockwork and he thinks there’s a legitimate chance that we could do away with the manual cranks within the next five years.
I’ll believe it when I see it.
