The Last Tree

The tree sat in its perfectly conditioned chamber. He walked up to the glass barrier and stared in. Digital lines of text scrolled along the frames of the glass. The text explained how centuries of technological and social advancement had rendered nature inefficient. Concretes, plastics and powerful polymers now served all of humanities needs. Advanced environmental filtration systems served the function of trees at far greater efficiency than any forest, thicket or jungle. The decision was made to simply move forward without the need for trees. Trees were simply a hindrance to a growing population of humans and novel silicon lifeforms, both of which required ever more space to coexist.

The dome museum had been erected centuries ago with the explicit goal of preserving this piece of the earths heritage. It stood on a hill, built around a lone oak, which had escaped the development that had creeped up the hill towards it. The dome was designed to accommodate the oak tree through its centuries of growth and maturation. The environment - soil, climate etc - within the chamber was curated in such a way so as to prolong the life of the tree indefinitely. The observation amphitheatre surrounding the chamber was occupied by a few other stragglers arriving late in the evening so as to avoid the touring crowds. The museum proudly displayed its timeline along the walls as well as shifting murals depicting forests and jungles of old, times of savagery when humans had just barely crawled out from the natural world and realised their potential to dominate.

These were old, well broken in narratives. They spoke of the brutality of nature, the instability, the chaos. That humans had emerged out of it was a miracle, the eventual domination of the elements a blessing. The efficiencies and optimisations achieved within the environment ensured healthy, happy lives for all. The tree stood only to remind us of the dark age which had been conquered. The age of toiling in fields, being subjected to the elements, droughts, famines and all manner of chaotic events which hampered human progress.

It was his first time to see the tree. He had travelled far, through many cities and towns, under bridges and over tunnels, up rivers and down mountains, natural features no longer comparable to these engrossing murals of a lost age. He had known no other story other than the one described in the great amphitheatre and along the frames of the glass barrier. The tree itself was nothing special compared to these murals. It stood perhaps 20 meters tall and the same in diameter. It was green, evergreen they said, due to the perfect optimisation of its environment. No longer would it have to endue the suffering inflicted upon its ancestors by winters long gone.

A lone acorn lay nestled among the lobey leaves. It was green in colour, possibly an anomaly to be growing at all. It seemed to lay on a branch which itself reached out defiantly, slightly longer than the rest. The branch was strong, with a thick base supporting its extending twigs and leaves. It emanated a certain pride. He frowned slightly. His family had visited this tree, on both sides, for several generations now. He had viewed their logs and had not seen the acorn. Perhaps they just had not noticed. Or perhaps it was a new development in the tree - but none of the information presented made any mention of it. It seemed unlikely that the development was not noted. Perhaps it was not a relevant detail to include, though this also seemed unlikely.

He circled the tree. It was not symmetrical, nothing in nature was truly symmetrical, not to the atomic level humans had achieved. But there was a hint of symmetry there. Roughly equal proportions apart from the odd branch or cluster which jutted out slightly further. Roughly pyramidical in a rounded sort of way. He of course had never seen anything like it before, not in person at least. There were reams of archived material of course but there was something different about being in its presence. He had an urge to reach through the glass and feel its rough bark, its knobbly, knotted boughs. This was not possible of course but the impulse was there. He made a note to search the logs for these same emotions in his predecessors or even the communal pool of logs the museum provided.

After spending sufficient time staring in at this piece of living history he began his return journey. He exited via the outer observation deck, pausing to absorb the view of the world extending out below that hill. There was of course no shade of green that bore any resemblance to what he had just witnessed, only flashes of naturalised neon green among the grey, white and black expanse that sprawled toward the horizon. The weather was beautiful, communally set to a balmy 23 celsius, with a gentle and warm breeze. There was no abrasive or harsh sounds from below or above, just the gentle ambient hums emanating from community sound systems. He smiled in relief, arranging transport as he descended the steps from the 'Tree Dome' as it was so called. The murals had disturbed him, the lack of structure in that old world seemed awfully dangerous. He was glad to be alive now, an age of true civilisation and sophistication, not the veneer those old ape like creatures before had been so proud of.

Years later he would learn of an accident, truly rare in these times, that had befallen the area around the 'Tree Dome'. There was of course a memorial attended by many. Efforts were made immediately to grow another single tree, from the genes up. He had a feeling he could not quite place his finger on. This was the last naturally conceived tree and despite its artificial surroundings and upbringing, its origin was entirely natural, outdated yes, but natural all the same. He did not understand the reaction within himself upon learning this news and none of the analysis he ran on it produced anything of practical value. As the years rolled on he gradually lost the feeling. But his successors would always take note of it in the logs, as puzzled as he was.