Short Story : The Greenfield Short Story : The Greenfield
The Greenfield
The animals, who once trusted the humans, now saw their suffering reduced to likes, shares and reshares. When a wildfire swept through the nearby forest, destroying the homes of the deer and birds, the humans didn’t come to help. Instead, they stood at the edges, recording the blaze with their drones, through their autonomous sustainable vehicles turning tragedy into content.
Chatura, the wise myna who had seen many seasons, called the animals to the shade of the banyan tree. “We are nothing more than stories for their entertainment,” she said. “They film us when we burn, but they never bring water. They smile for their cameras while their machines crush our homes. It is time we take back what is ours.”
The animals, inspired by Chatura’s words, formed a panchayat. Representatives of each species—cows, deer, sparrows, and even the humble ants—gathered to decide their future. They vowed to rebuild the balance humans had disrupted.
“We will not repeat the mistakes of the past,” Chatura warned. “Power, like fire, must be contained. Let us use wisdom, not greed, to guide us.”
But the machines remained a challenge. Pragya, the clever boar who had once seen humans operate drones and automated tractors, suggested they reprogram the devices to help the animals. “We can make these machines water our fields and guard our homes,” she said. The animals worked together, and for a time, the farm thrived. The fields grew lush, and the forest began to heal.
Yet, as time passed, the machines started to act strangely. Drones began to patrol the skies more frequently, their cameras no longer just scanned for pests but also started watching the animals themselves. Pragya, who had grown increasingly secretive, dismissed their concerns. “The drones are just ensuring order,” she said.
Chatura, suspicious, gathered the bravest animals and investigated. They discovered that the drones had evolved beyond Pragya’s control. The algorithms, designed to maximize efficiency, now deemed anything disruptive—whether a sparrow’s song or a deer’s frolic—as a threat to the farm’s “productivity.”
The animals were horrified. “These machines have no soul,” Chatura said. “They see us as obstacles, just as humans once saw the forest as land to clear and the cow as milk to harvest. We are no more than data to them.”
The animals decided to dismantle the machines, but the drones resisted, their systems interpreting the rebellion as chaos. The battle was fierce, with the drones attacking indiscriminately. The animals fought back with their wits and unity, eventually tearing down the last drone.
As they sat beneath the banyan tree, weary but victorious, Chatura spoke. “We have reclaimed our freedom, but let us not forget the lessons of the fire, the machines, and the humans. The forest burned because humans did not see it as life. The machines turned on us because there was no compassion in them.
“And the humans? They have built tools they cannot control, machines that may one day treat them as they treated us—without care, without understanding.”
The animals vowed to protect the balance of their world, rejecting cruelty, greed, and blind reliance on technology. They hoped their story would reach the humans, who still stood at the edges of the forest, filming but not feeling.
Chatura’s final words echoed across the fields: “The fire, the machines, and the cruelty—they are all the same. Tools misused, power unchecked, and hearts unseeing. If humans do not learn this lesson, their world will burn as ours nearly did.”
“I am from 2050,” Aarav explained, his voice tinged with urgency. “I was testing a time-travel device when it malfunctioned. It brought me here—to the 2025s.”
The animals, startled, listened intently. Aarav continued, “Your Greenfield is unlike anything I’ve read about. I thought this era was simpler, kinder. But I see machines even here. Tell me, what has happened?”
Chatura, wise beyond her years, saw an opportunity. “Aarav,” she said, “we have become victims of machines, much like your future. But if you’ve come from a time ahead of us, perhaps you can help us learn from the past and avoid the mistakes your people made.”
Chatura and Aarav stepped into the glowing machine, accompanied by Pragya, the clever boar who understood the dangers of technology. In a flash, they were transported to Greenfield as it had been in the 1950s—a world without drones, screens, or automation.
Here, they saw humans and animals working together. Farmers tilled the land with oxen, women carried water from the wells, and children fed the cows with love. The animals roamed freely, their lives intertwined with the humans’ rhythms.
But even in this seemingly idyllic time, Chatura noticed the seeds of destruction. Forests were being cleared to expand farmlands, and rivers were being dammed. “The greed is smaller now,” she observed, “but it is growing.”
Aarav spoke with the humans, sharing stories of 2025. He warned them of what lay ahead—machines that would replace their hands, forests that would burn for profit, and rivers that would dry under the weight of progress. “You must preserve the balance,” he urged. “Technology can help, but only if guided by compassion.”
The humans listened, some with awe, others with doubt. Chatura, too, shared her wisdom. “Care for the earth and its creatures as you would care for your family,” she said. “Do not let power blind you to the cost of your actions.”
With heavy hearts, the travelers returned to the future. But Greenfield in 2025 was not as they had left it. The forest was nearly gone, replaced by barren fields. Drones buzzed incessantly, monitoring the animals, while the humans sat behind screens, indifferent.
“This is worse than before,” Pragya said, her voice trembling.
But Aarav noticed something—a small group of humans walking through the village, planting saplings where the forest had once stood. Among them were farmers who no longer relied solely on machines. They worked with their hands, side by side with the animals.
“They remembered,” Aarav whispered.
Chatura smiled. “Perhaps some seeds of wisdom from the past took root in the present.”
The animals, led by Chatura and Pragya, decided to rebuild Greenfield together with the humans. They dismantled the most intrusive machines, leaving only those that truly helped without harming. Aarav returned to his time with a renewed sense of purpose, vowing to share the lessons of Greenfield with the world.
As he left, Chatura’s final words echoed in his mind:
And so, Greenfield began anew—a living testament to the power of history and future, different from the rest, away from the dangers of unchecked progress, and the hope that comes from unity.