Read “Reclaiming the Desert” in the fiction section of Wayfare. Mild spoilers ahead!
This story started off like many of my stories do, in response to a prompt: a short fiction magazine was looking for pieces for a solar punk collection. In case you haven’t heard of it (I hadn’t!), solar punk is a new-ish genre of speculative fiction that focuses on an optimistic future where humanity has harnessed technology along with traditional techniques to create a future where the planet is brought into a sustainable balance. When I was casting about for an idea to fill this prompt, I turned to the news story that was happening around me: Utah’s 20-year-long megadrought. In 2022 we were finally confronting the impending doom that the drying of the Great Salt Lake would bring upon the Salt Lake Valley, especially the risk of toxic chemicals from the lakebed being dispersed into the air. I combined these two elements by researching what sustainable, high-tech living might look like in the desert.
There are a lot of really wild ideas out there! A TED Talk by Magnus Larsson on turning dunes into architecture inspired the structure of the train station where Martea waits for her sister. This real-life waffle gardening technique inspired her desert-friendly garden. The neighborhood park swale is also based on a real-life technique. And Martea’s explanation about why they rely on cattle in the desert is drawn from Allan Savory’s TED Talk about how herds of cattle can combat desertification. All this being said, I’m not an expert on sustainable desert living or on Utah’s ecology and there was only so much learning time I could put in for a short story, so I’m sure I’ve gotten some things wrong. Please go gentle on a poor fiction author.
Over the course of my research, I was struck by how different it looked to live sustainably in the desert than in other environments portrayed in typical solar punk stories. The things that work in a more temperate area don’t make sense in Utah’s unique climate, yet there’s so much that’s still possible. This reminded me of the misunderstandings between Mormons and nonmembers. Both ways of life can work well in their own way, but there’s a tendency from both sides to condemn the other because they don’t understand why they do things differently.
In the story, I posit that a highly-organized community like the Latter-day Saint community is well-positioned to enact ecological change in the west because the division of water in a dry climate requires sacrifices that aren’t naturally going to happen without outside intervention by some kind of authority. (Witness the way the federal government had to step in and impose top-down reforms after Western states were unable to make the numbers add up for sharing decreased water from the Colorado River.) Most solar punk stories favor a more anarchic or libertarian form of government where there’s so much abundance that everyone can basically just do whatever they want. (Though of course, those decisions never seem to lead to overconsumption, which might be too optimistic . . . .) From there, I decided the main conflict of the story would be from an outsider visiting New Zion and trying to understand a system that was counter-intuitive to their vision of the world.
Often, Mormon lit stories are from Mormon families looking at the one who left or the one who left looking back in their Mormon community. I decided to flip these roles a bit by having the Mormon be the one who left her family and feels misunderstood. Initially I thought Martea’s whole family would be coming to visit her, but that ended up being too many characters for the size of the story, so I reduced it to just her sister.
The theme of reconciliation without conversion is one that feels very important to me right now. Every day, it seems, I hear stories of people cutting each other out of their lives because they don’t agree on politics or religion. But we need each other. We all need love and support and community, and trying to build those only with people who agree on everything is unnecessarily limiting. If we can’t bridge the divide over these issues with our closest family and friends, what chance does the world have to do the same? The key is not to convince others that we are right, but to learn to live together and love each other even while we live and believe in different ways.
The short fiction magazine I’d written the story for didn’t end up taking it. I’m so thankful that Jeanine Bee, Wayfare’s fiction editor, reached out to me for this story, and for the effort that she and the whole Wayfare editorial team put into helping me revise this story into the best possible version of itself. I hope it inspires you to make sustainable changes in your life and to reach out to those who may see things differently than you do.
