By Arely Mendia, Nature Nexus Institute

Nature Nexus Institute (NNI) commends all high school student writers who participated in the Green Feather Award and The Tomorrow Prize, an Omega Sci-Fi Awards short story writing competition. It is inspiring to see that many high school students worked hard on their stories through the pandemic and created wonderful pieces of literature. We are very honored to be a part of this journey, supporting the writers of the future and pushing the community to learn about their local environment predicament through writing, to show everyone that there is still hope.

During the May 22, 2022, Omega Sci-Fi Awards Ceremony in Pasadena, there were actors bringing the stories to life. There were many emotions coming from the audience from “awes” to laughter from the runner up and winning stories.

Nature Nexus Institute (NNI) is a proud collaborator, and we look forward to the yearly celebration of creativity and storytelling from Los Angeles youth.

We are excited to present our two Green Feather award winning stories-“Eden” by Jennifer Wu and “The Seagulls Save Culver City?” by Jonathan Kim.

Jonathan Kim, a Greenhouse student, is currently attending Culver City High School and enjoys his passion for journalism as an editor for his school’s newspaper. Besides writing, he also enjoys hiking at the Baldwin Hills Scenic Overlook and San Gabriel Mountains. “The Seagulls Save Culver City?” is a story of out-of-control seagulls that go out of their way to “terrorize” students at Culver City High School, but a sudden outbreak causes them to seek salvation by restoring the Ballona Creek in order to survive.

Eden

By Jennifer Wu

I remember the day the Last Tree fell. I remember the single ember burning bright with passion in a cold, desolate field. I remember The Melt, remember the pain and sorrow hidden under apathetic masks. I remember Eden, and I remember its Twin Flames.

The day they chopped the Last Tree, Robin was among the hundred spectators watching in solemn silence. A smokey charcoal fog created a stifling blanket over the barren field; the air was acrid with the stench of smog. Among the gathered, not a single person was without a gas mask. Whether their face coverings were once white, black, blue, or grey, it did not matter; they were all caked with a thick layer of soot and air pollutants.

The crowd stood at the edge of the obnoxiously bright barrier of yellow police tape, which encircled the entire perimeter of a patch of sodded grass and weeds. In the center, the Last Tree stood alone, a single speck of red within the gloomy fog.

Although the townspeople of Forrest relied on the Tree—it was the final source of authentic oxygen— the elites of Eden incessantly complained about its existence. The government—who had always catered to the interests of Eden—issued a proclamation calling for “The Hackening.”

A dozen workers and their loud, buzzing machines stood at the roots of the great maple, the tip of their chainsaws inches away from its splendid auburn trunk. Instinctively, the crowd held their breath, watching in anticipation for the inevitable. Blade met bark. The great maple fell instantly, its singed leaves crackling, its fragile branches becoming mangled beyond repair. The thundering sound as the underbrush met the canopy resonated across the empty field, once a forest. It was done.

Robin felt numb. The rest of the crowd remained silent, emotionless. All except one.

A fiery yet slightly muffled voice rang out, “Are you happy now? Are you happy now that you have the last source of oxygen outside of Eden?” The person let out a hollow laugh, “I mean, seriously! How many trees do they need before they’re satisfied?”

Glancing to the left, Robin spotted the outlier by their furious arm gestures. Who was so bold as to stand up against Eden itself?

The person leaned over the neon yellow tape, incessantly cursing out the startled workers. Their rusty red hair cascaded over to the other side, almost as out-of-place as the leaves of the old maple. It was Ember.

Although they were classmates, Robin didn’t know much about Ember, only that her father was widely regarded as a hero by the people of Forrest. He had given his life to save a small grove of maple trees from a disastrous wildfire that had ripped through the forest years ago. It had burned everything in its path to a crisp, distorting the landscape into an unrecognizable mass. In the end, the people found his lifeless body at the roots of the Last Tree; his hose was dry.

Robin’s train of thought was suddenly interrupted by Ember’s broken sobs. The sound resembled the shattered howl of a forest animal. Robin glanced up to see what had caused Ember’s sudden breakdown.

The workers were now loading the mutilated mass of maple wood onto the back of their truck, not minding that the Tree’s branches splintered under the cramped conditions. They weren’t concerned; Eden would pay them a hefty sum for the Tree anyway.

Scrambling to get up onto her feet, Ember sprinted after the truck as it dragged her final connection to her father further and further away. A single broken twig fell from the vehicle, landing soundlessly in the coarse ashen soil. Ember collapsed onto the ground and reached for the branch, still visibly shaking. Robin jogged towards her, hoping to comfort her.

From the edge of the motionless crowd, a pair of heavy black boots emerged, striding confidently towards Robin and Ember, the latter’s uneven breathing producing whistling noises through her mask.

“If you want to save the world, follow me.”

Robin and Ember sat silently in the back of the man’s Jeep as they headed… somewhere. After having time to calm down, Ember began her rapid interrogation.

“Who are you? What do you want with us? Where are we even going?”

“I’m Dr. Hagan.” Robin caught his gaze in the rearview mirror, clear jade eyes framed by tortoise-shell glasses.

He continued, “You’ll see when we get there, but I need you both to trust me. We’ll be going to my lab in Eden.”

Those were the only words spoken during that long drive.

Several hours later, Robin spotted the sparkling skyscrapers of Eden poking out from the white fluffy clouds in the distance. The sky around the utopian society grew ever clearer as Dr. Hagan’s car neared its gleaming gates. It was as if a mysterious force was pushing against the smog that encompassed everything within a thousand mile radius.

“Eden’s air is extraordinarily clean,” Dr. Hagan stated.

Ember scoffed, “Yeah. They hoard every living piece of wood in there, why wouldn’t the air be clean?”

“You may be right, but with your help, they won’t be the only place with living wood.”

Robin couldn’t help but ask, “What do you mean by that?”

Before he responded, Dr. Hagan turned to the left. He pulled into the garage of a dome-shaped structure several miles away from Eden, where the air was still sooty and unbreathable.

“You’ll see. Follow me.” Dr. Hagan got out of his car and sauntered into the building. Robin and Ember—still clutching the twig—followed suit. As the sun shone from between the thick smog, Robin caught a glimpse of Dr. Hagan’s auburn hair, the same shade as singed maple leaves.

The doors to Dr. Hagan’s laboratory opened, and a gust of fresh air greeted Robin and Ember. The feeling of a clean, cool breeze was so unfamiliar that the two stumbled back in shock before quickening their pace to catch up with the scientist.

Inside the lab, they were greeted by a flood of green. From sequoia saplings to the golden poppy: every plant that was lost to unstoppable wildfires throughout the years was, somehow, here. Ember whirled around in shock.

“Wh-But how?” she stuttered, her mask now off.

A new voice responded from the foliage.

“Dr. Hagan visits sites damaged by wildfires and collects the scorched remains of native species. In an attempt to salvage them, he creates synthetic versions of the vegetation that once thrived in our ecosystem out of the scraps.”

A woman emerged from behind the bushes. Robin noticed that her hair had been dyed a deep crimson; her blonde roots peeked out, giving her hair the appearance of burning flames.

The woman continued, “But of course, as artificial re-creations, these plants are not as efficient in producing oxygen. The fresh air that you are experiencing in this chamber is a result of the collective effort of every plant in this room.”

“Who are you?” Ember inquired once again. “Why isn’t anyone answering my questions?”

“I assume that Glenn didn’t tell you anything on the way here. He has a flair for the dramatic.” The woman rolled her eyes. “He’s my brother. My name is Seraphina.”

Dr. Hagan cleared his throat, his face flushed with embarrassment. “Yes, well we mustn’t be too careless; I could not afford to disclose my plans out in the open. Eden has eyes and ears everywhere.”

Seraphina shuddered. “Don’t remind me. Last time I was in town, I had strangers interrogating me about why I’ve been missing. Any information about environmentalists spreads like wildfire there, which is ironic. Eden has never experienced the pain of an actual fire,” she said bitterly. “How could they, when the government is so determined to keep them sheltered from all danger?”

“I hate to change the topic, but now that we're safe in here, can you please explain why you need the both of us?” Ember demanded in exasperation.

“Right,” Dr. Hagan turned toward them. “I saw how passionate you were about saving the environment, Ember. And I know that Robin is especially gifted in biochemistry.”

Upon seeing Robin’s shocked expression, he elaborated, “I’ve been looking for an intern outside of Eden.”

“As Glenn was saying, both of you are necessary for the success of his project. He has invented a prototype machine that is capable of taking smog and filtering out the pollutants,” Seraphina explained. “These particles can then be processed by our artificial vegetation and turned into breathable oxygen. Eden won’t be the only place without masks anymore.”

Dr. Hagan continued, “You both have the last piece to our puzzle. We are missing one of the most efficient oxygen producers, the great maple. With your help, we may be able to generate thousands of copies from just one twig. So, what do you say?”

“We’re in,” Ember and Robin agreed.

Unlike the wild fires that had destroyed everything in its path years ago, their passionate flames would bring new hope to the land.

The Seagulls Save Culver City?

By Jonathan Kim

A waft of a washed up, pungent scent of mold and waste has covered the once-beloved and quiet suburban city of the Heart of Screenland. Culver City had reached its all-time low — there was a thick, white foam coming from the depths of the deeply contaminated sewers. This foam developed in the once beautiful and diverse Ballona Creek, the soul of the city, which now devolved into a trash-filled wasteland. Right next to it was Culver City High School, smothered in trash and food from students’ daily littering. Sitting on top of the roofs of the school buildings, observing the collection of trash and the degradation of this precious land was Freeman, perched with his crew of seven noble servants surrounding him — but they were all seagulls with shining tips on their beaks. Freeman was an unusually bright seagull at the top of the hierarchical pyramid with his seven servants, and an army of 500 other seagulls, lined up in military fashion on another building, who had their own hierarchical order.

These seagulls fed off the constant littering of students’ meals, sometimes even tossed on top of the buildings in order to intimidate them. But because of the constant food supply, the seagulls developed a secret power of their own — beaks ten times stronger than a diamond. This superpower began to scare many of the Culver City High School students away after they witnessed the seagulls’ ability to tear through one innocent student’s flesh, resulting in his tragic death. The seagulls were finally able to enact revenge against these students. However, they soon realized that their superpower came with a critical flaw; one of the lowest tier seagulls had caught a unique and devastating virus. The excess food flung onto the building where this group lay could potentially cause the end of this seagull population.

“What are the numbers now?” Freeman firmly asked.

“By our recent report, every seagull except for us eight have caught this Mu virus, sir,” Buxton, one of the seven servants, remarked.

“Absolutely tragic. And you’re sure about those numbers?”

“Yes, sir, I am confident. However, according to one of our scientists, there apparently lies a cure in that creek over there,” Buxton said.

“What! In that filthy, foul, vile creek over there? The Ballona?”

“Yes, sir. From my understanding, if any infected bird were to consume a native plant or frog in the creek, they’d supposedly be able to heal comple—”

“And where in the world can we ever find that? Have you seen that creek, Buxton? Do you think there will be any sign of life there? If anything, we should be grateful that we took revenge against those filthy students,” Freeman said.

“But sir, I have a plan. Why don’t we just use our beaks, that we’ve tested against human flesh, to drill the concrete on the sides of the creek and help restore the native life? It is completely possible!” Buxton exclaimed, fully inspired at this point.

Freeman glanced once at Buxton, pondering whether such a solution was logical, let alone possible. With rumors of their beaks’ value, Freeman knew they were faced with the threat of hunters trying to kill them and sell their diamond-like beaks for millions of dollars. Engaging in something this risky could put an end to all of their lives. However, Freeman was unlike any typical ruler; he was inspired by the ideas of the Enlightenment, a movement four centuries ago that once influenced other human monarchs to improve their state by creating a more equal and just society. He believed that ensuring the good of the majority of his people was better than selfishly allowing him and his seven servants to survive alone.

“Alright Buxton, let's do it.”

With a simple cry, Freeman called upon all of his fellow comrades and detailed the plan.

“Here’s the deal,” Freeman began as all of the seagulls looked up in a droopy manner. “I don’t care that me or my servants can die if this plan fails, but we will and must try it.” After giving them the rundown, the seagulls looked at each other with hope in their eyes as Freeman proceeded to give another call, signaling their plan’s beginning.

With Freeman in front, and the remaining seagulls in order, they flew towards the Ballona, determined to bring an end to this Mu virus. Surprising Freeman at the simplicity of the process, they began to use their diamond-like beaks to drill into the concrete. In just one hour, with the power of all of the seagulls, from Freeman to Ralph, who was the lowest of the low in terms of seagull rank, 75 percent of the concrete was removed. But unbeknownst to the seagulls, another superpower had arisen as it allowed the native plants and wildlife to grow and flourish in this short span of time — and some began to receive their cure. However, when all seemed to be over, and the Mu virus seemingly eradicated, thirteen hunters appeared. These hunters had agreed not to share the secret of the seagulls’ beaks’ value — the billions of dollars from each of these beaks, combined, would belong solely to them.

“Look, there they are!” yelled Roger, the most experienced hunter.

“Yeah, I see them! What in the world are those things doing?” another shouted.

In unison, the hunters looked up into the sky in awe to see 508 seagulls also ramming themselves into the creek walls.

“Man, they must have gone crazy from something. Maybe it’s their beaks, huh?” Roger wondered.

They began to load their machine guns with ammunition, smiling and thinking about the amount of money they would collect.

Out of the corner of his eye, Freeman spotted the hunters, licking their chops at the sight of the seagulls.

“Watch out, there are the hunters!” Freeman cried out. Then, 20 seagulls plopped into the water from the sky.

“No!” Freeman exclaimed.

The hunters began to prematurely celebrate at this sight, imagining the money flowing into their hands. But out of nowhere, the seagulls flew back up and drilled their beaks into the hunters, who shrieked in fear. It was a trick! The seagulls began to violently rip up the hunters as they relished the pleasure of succeeding in their subterfuge. What seemed to be a disaster for the seagulls turned into a major success, clearing the way for them to cure themselves and the creek, in peace. The newly cured seagull that had come up with this brilliant plan looked down on the hunters in satisfaction and pride, a smirk on his face.

Freeman, observing what had happened from a hundred feet away, looked on in pride as his comrade seagulls were close to completely drilling away the concrete. He thought to himself, These are my birds. I was right to not betray them. I was right to trust Buxton. I did it. No, we did it.

Now, Freeman and his fellow seagulls relished in their victory as they had not only saved themselves from the Mu virus, but they had saved the natural state of Ballona Creek, thus restoring Culver City altogether.