more and
more power was generated from coal.
At first the smokeless zones were urban
and suburban only. Harry lived in the countryside of middle Connecticut, where
the hills are gentle and rolling and the forests used to be extensive. Then wood
as combustible fuel was completely outlawed; wood must be saved for paper and
construction. And coal was to be conserved for generation of power, production
of gas, manufacture of synthetic materials. Most precious of all, petroleum
consumption was cut back to the barest minimum. The Smokeless Zones became a
single Smokeless Zone affecting every county in the country, north and
south.
People still burned wood clandestinely,
but less and less as time went on; there were plenty of tree-loving
environmentalists to form local vigilante groups, and caught offenders were
punished drastically by the levying of huge fines, plus removal of privileges or
concessions or both. But even knowing all this, still Harry Bartholomew went on
burning wood, terrified, panic-stricken, haunted, incapable of kicking the
habit.
The fogs no longer came down all winter
long, as they used to during the final ten years before the burning of wood and
coal in homes and apartments was completely outlawed, but they still
came down whenever atmospheric conditions were right; the powerhouses, factories
and institutions contributed more than sufficient carbon from their coal burning
to the air when fog conditions were at optimum. And when the fogs did come down,
they were a godsend to people like Harry Bartholomew. He had developed a method
of stealing wood, and it worked.
A string line ran between Harry's house
and the eastern boundary of his property, a low stone wall that cut him off from
his eastern neighbour, Eddie Marcus. Eddie's property was a lot bigger than
Harry's, something over sixteen acres, and it was solid trees because Eddie
didn't farm. In the days before wood burning became so difficult and culpable,
Eddie had lost many trees, but gradually his position as the local vigilante
leader (Eddie was a militant Green Earther, as was his father before him) and
the size of his threats made tree thieves look elsewhere. Until the night Harry
ran his string line to Eddie's boundary wall and hid the big spool to which it
was still attached in a cavity well camouflaged by leaves, as was the played-out
length of string.
There the spool lay until a fog came. And
when it did, Harry followed the string from his house to the stone wall, stepped
over it, and played out more string. In the interest of speed he had elected to
use a chain saw rather than an axe or a manual saw, relying on the deadening
effect of the fog itself, the long distance between his boundary and Eddie's
house, the fact that of course Eddie's house was well boarded up, and, in the
event he was heard, his ability to make a quick getaway by following his string
line. The chain saw he equipped with extra mufflers and while he used it wound
it in blankets as well; a good mechanic, he had squirrelled a little arsenal of
spare parts away, and painstakingly repaired the damage all this swaddling did
to the chain saw's overheated motor.
For five years he got away with stealing
his neighbour's trees. Of course Eddie discovered the remains of Harry's
depredations, but blamed them upon a man who lived behind him, with whom a feud
had been going on for over twenty years. Congratulating himself upon his
cleverness, Harry watched the hotted-up feud with glee, and cocksurely went on
stealing Eddie Marcus's trees.
At the end of January in the year 2032
the fog came down with most satisfying thickness, coinciding with a thaw that
had become almost unheard of in the midst of winter, a thaw that held promise of
a rare early spring — and plenty more fogs, thought a very happy Harry
Bartholomew.
He had stretched his string in a new
direction, and followed the knots he had tied in it, confidently counting
more power was generated from coal.
At first the smokeless zones were urban
and suburban only. Harry lived in the countryside of middle Connecticut, where
the hills are gentle and rolling and the forests used to be extensive. Then wood
as combustible fuel was completely outlawed; wood must be saved for paper and
construction. And coal was to be conserved for generation of power, production
of gas, manufacture of synthetic materials. Most precious of all, petroleum
consumption was cut back to the barest minimum. The Smokeless Zones became a
single Smokeless Zone affecting every county in the country, north and
south.
People still burned wood clandestinely,
but less and less as time went on; there were plenty of tree-loving
environmentalists to form local vigilante groups, and caught offenders were
punished drastically by the levying of huge fines, plus removal of privileges or
concessions or both. But even knowing all this, still Harry Bartholomew went on
burning wood, terrified, panic-stricken, haunted, incapable of kicking the
habit.
The fogs no longer came down all winter
long, as they used to during the final ten years before the burning of wood and
coal in homes and apartments was completely outlawed, but they still
came down whenever atmospheric conditions were right; the powerhouses, factories
and institutions contributed more than sufficient carbon from their coal burning
to the air when fog conditions were at optimum. And when the fogs did come down,
they were a godsend to people like Harry Bartholomew. He had developed a method
of stealing wood, and it worked.
A string line ran between Harry's house
and the eastern boundary of his property, a low stone wall that cut him off from
his eastern neighbour, Eddie Marcus. Eddie's property was a lot bigger than
Harry's, something over sixteen acres, and it was solid trees because Eddie
didn't farm. In the days before wood burning became so difficult and culpable,
Eddie had lost many trees, but gradually his position as the local vigilante
leader (Eddie was a militant Green Earther, as was his father before him) and
the size of his threats made tree thieves look elsewhere. Until the night Harry
ran his string line to Eddie's boundary wall and hid the big spool to which it
was still attached in a cavity well camouflaged by leaves, as was the played-out
length of string.
There the spool lay until a fog came. And
when it did, Harry followed the string from his house to the stone wall, stepped
over it, and played out more string. In the interest of speed he had elected to
use a chain saw rather than an axe or a manual saw, relying on the deadening
effect of the fog itself, the long distance between his boundary and Eddie's
house, the fact that of course Eddie's house was well boarded up, and, in the
event he was heard, his ability to make a quick getaway by following his string
line. The chain saw he equipped with extra mufflers and while he used it wound
it in blankets as well; a good mechanic, he had squirrelled a little arsenal of
spare parts away, and painstakingly repaired the damage all this swaddling did
to the chain saw's overheated motor.
For five years he got away with stealing
his neighbour's trees. Of course Eddie discovered the remains of Harry's
depredations, but blamed them upon a man who lived behind him, with whom a feud
had been going on for over twenty years. Congratulating himself upon his
cleverness, Harry watched the hotted-up feud with glee, and cocksurely went on
stealing Eddie Marcus's trees.
At the end of January in the year 2032
the fog came down with most satisfying thickness, coinciding with a thaw that
had become almost unheard of in the midst of winter, a thaw that held promise of
a rare early spring — and plenty more fogs, thought a very happy Harry
Bartholomew.
He had stretched his string in a new
direction, and followed the knots he had tied in it, confidently counting
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