The Super Kale Expedition

Dave sat in a large leather chair. His feet did not reach the floor. He kicked his heels against the wooden base. The wood made a dull thumping sound. The Thunder Bay city council room was too hot. The air conditioning was broken. The air felt heavy and wet. Dave wiped his nose on the sleeve of his gray shirt. He was ten years old. His mother had told him he was going to a summer technology camp. She had driven him to a glass building downtown and handed him over to Jason. Jason called Dave a Junior Growth Hacker. Dave just wanted to go home and play video games.

Jason stood at the front of the room. He wore a bright blue puffy vest over a tight gray shirt. His sneakers were completely white. They had thick, clean soles. Jason held a black plastic remote in his right hand. He pointed it at a large white screen. He clicked a button. The screen flashed bright white and then showed a picture of a giant green leaf. The green was too bright. It hurt Dave's eyes to look at it.

"Disruption," Jason said. His voice was loud. He did not use a microphone. He walked back and forth in front of a long wooden table. Five adults sat behind the table. They looked tired. "We are here to hack the dirt. Decentralized forest gardens. We bypass the supply chain entirely."

Dave stopped kicking his chair. He watched a fly land on the edge of the wooden table. The fly rubbed its front legs together.

"Food insecurity ends today," Jason said. He clicked the remote again. A graph appeared on the screen. The lines on the graph went straight up. "Super-kale. Genetically modified for extreme growth in harsh climates. We drop the seeds in the boreal forest. Nature provides the water and the soil. The blockchain tracks the nutrient density. Zero overhead. Infinite scaling."

A woman in the back row stood up. She wore thick green canvas pants. The knees were stained with dark mud. Her boots were brown leather. The leather was deeply scratched. This was Marla. She was the local agricultural liaison. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"You are an idiot," Marla said. Her voice was much louder than Jason's voice. It echoed off the high ceiling.

Jason stopped walking. He smiled. His teeth were perfectly straight and very white. He wiped his palms flat against his thighs. "Feedback is a gift," Jason said. "But the algorithm says our yield projections are..."

"It is the boreal forest," Marla interrupted. She walked down the center aisle. Her heavy boots made loud clacking sounds on the tile floor. "You cannot plant invasive super-kale in a fragile ecosystem. The soil is mostly acidic pine needles. The winter will freeze the roots solid. If it survives, it will choke out the native mosses. Do not do this."

"We pivot around the frost," Jason said. He clicked the remote. The screen showed a spinning 3D model of a farm. "The smart-contracts adjust the planting cycles."

"That does not mean anything," Marla said. She pointed a thick finger at the screen. "That is not even a real plant. That is a computer rendering of a fern painted neon green."

Jason turned off the screen. The room went dark for a second until Dave's eyes adjusted to the sunlight coming through the dirty windows. "Thank you for the engagement," Jason said. "We are moving forward. The beta test begins today."

Two hours later, Dave was standing in a dirt parking lot at the edge of the woods. The air smelled of wet dirt and hot car exhaust. Jason opened the trunk of his silver car. Inside the trunk were four large, brown sacks. The sacks looked like they were made of rough rope.

"Biodegradable hemp distribution pods," Jason said. He grabbed one of the sacks and dragged it out of the trunk. It hit the dirt with a heavy thud. "Fifty pounds of seed each."

There were three other interns. Two of them were teenagers from the local high school. They wore shorts and thin t-shirts. They looked at the heavy bags. Nobody wanted to carry them.

"Experiential youth onboarding," Jason said. He pointed at Dave. "Grab a pod. We hike two miles in. The LeafSync app guides us to the optimal drop zone."

Dave grabbed the thick straps of the brown sack. The rough fabric scratched his hands. He pulled it up. It was incredibly heavy. It felt like a bag of rocks. He got his arms through the straps. The weight pulled his shoulders down. His back immediately began to ache.

"Follow the blue dot," Jason said. He stared down at his phone. The screen was cracked in the bottom left corner. He walked past the tree line and into the dark woods.

Dave followed him. The older interns followed Dave. The trees were very tall. Their trunks were covered in peeling gray bark. The ground was covered in brown pine needles and dead leaves. It was soft. Dave's shoes sank into the ground with every step.

The woods were loud. Birds screamed in the branches. Bugs buzzed in the hot air. Dave sweated. The sweat ran down his forehead and stung his eyes. He tried to wipe his eyes, but his hands were trapped by the heavy straps of the seed bag.

They walked down a steep hill and into a swamp. The water was brown and still. Green slime floated on the surface.

"The dot says straight," Jason said. He did not look up from his cracked screen. He stepped directly into the brown water. His pristine white sneakers sank. The water rose over his ankles. The bright white fabric turned dark brown instantly.

Dave stepped into the water. The cold water flooded his shoes. His socks soaked it up like sponges. The wetness squished between his toes. It was a terrible feeling. He hated the summer camp.

Then the mosquitos found them. They were massive. They swarmed out of the tall grass. They landed on Dave's arms. He felt tiny, sharp pinpricks. He slapped his arm. He left a smear of dirt and blood on his skin.

"Keep pushing," Jason said. He slapped his own neck. "Discomfort is just weakness leaving the body."

"My shoes are stuck," one of the older interns said.

"Pivot your footing," Jason said.

Dave kept walking. Squish. Step. Squish. Step. His shoulders burned. The bag of super-kale seeds bounced heavily against his spine. The woods grew darker as the trees grew closer together. The sun was blocked out. Everything was just shadows and mud.

The Raccoon

They walked for another hour. Dave's legs felt like wet noodles. He could not stop shivering even though the air was hot. The mosquitos had bitten him dozens of times. His neck was covered in itchy bumps.

"Recalibrating," Jason said. He stopped walking. He tapped his phone screen aggressively with his thumb. "We lost the signal. The canopy is blocking the satellite."

Dave dropped his heavy bag on a flat gray rock. He sat down next to it. He did not care about the damp moss on the rock. He just needed to stop moving. The other interns dropped their bags too. They all breathed heavily.

"Time for fuel," Jason said. He rubbed his hands together. His hands were covered in dried brown mud. "I brought protein squares. Optimized caloric intake."

Jason turned around to look at the pile of bags under a large oak tree. He stopped rubbing his hands. His mouth fell open.

A raccoon sat on top of the bags. The raccoon was extremely fat. It had thick gray fur and a black mask of fur around its eyes. It was busy tearing into one of the biodegradable hemp sacks. The raccoon's sharp little claws ripped the rough fabric easily. The bag was designed to break down in the dirt, so it offered no resistance.

"Hey," Jason shouted. He took a step forward. "Stop. That is our proprietary inventory."

The raccoon did not stop. It pulled a shiny silver foil packet out of the ripped bag. It bit into the foil. It pulled out a brown, brick-like square of protein. The raccoon held the square in its small, black hands and took a large bite.

"Shoo," Jason yelled. He waved his arms in the air.

The raccoon stopped chewing. It stared directly at Jason. It did not look scared. It looked annoyed. It took another slow bite of the protein square, chewing with its mouth open. Then it grabbed three more silver packets, shoved them under its arm, and scrambled up the trunk of the oak tree. Its claws clicked loudly against the bark.

"Well," Jason said. He put his hands on his hips. "Nature tax. We still have half the rations."

Dave walked over to the torn bag. The remaining silver packets were scattered in the mud. Several of them were chewed open. They were covered in thick, stringy raccoon saliva.

Dave's stomach made a loud, hollow rumbling noise. He was incredibly hungry.

"I am not eating that," Dave said. He pointed at the saliva-covered squares.

"Me neither," the oldest intern said. He sat down in the dirt and put his head in his hands.

"We forage," Jason said. He clapped his hands once. "The app has a plant identification feature. We source local nutrients."

Jason walked around the clearing. He held his cracked phone up to a patch of weeds. He held it up to a pile of dead leaves. Then he stopped in front of a low, thorny bush. The bush was covered in tight clusters of shiny, dark purple berries.

"Processing," Jason said. He moved the phone closer to the bush. "It says these are wild forest raspberries. High in antioxidants. A superfood."

Dave looked at the berries. They did not look like raspberries. Raspberries were red and fuzzy. These berries were hard and smooth, like tiny plastic beads.

Jason grabbed a handful of the purple berries. He shoved them all into his mouth at once. He chewed aggressively. His jaw popped.

Suddenly, Jason stopped chewing. His face scrunched up. His eyes watered. "Tart," he said. He swallowed hard. "Very raw flavor profile. Earthy."

Dave decided he would rather stay hungry. He sat back down on his rock.

Ten minutes later, the air in the clearing felt different. It was very quiet. The birds had stopped screaming. Dave looked over at Jason.

Jason was sitting on a fallen log. He had taken off his blue puffy vest. His gray shirt was soaked with dark patches of sweat. The sweat dripped off the end of his nose. His eyes were open extremely wide. He was staring at his own hands.

"The metrics," Jason whispered. His voice sounded thin and papery.

Dave stood up. "Are you okay?"

Jason pointed a trembling finger at a tall pine tree. "Look at the metrics. They are off the charts."

Dave looked at the tree. It was just a tree. It had brown bark and green needles. There were no metrics.

"The audience is waiting," Jason said. He stood up slowly. His legs wobbled. He walked toward the pine tree. He tripped over a thick, exposed root and fell hard onto his hands and knees in the dirt. He did not get up. He stayed on his hands and knees, staring at the base of the tree.

"Welcome to my TED Talk," Jason announced loudly to a patch of damp moss. "Today, we disrupt the pinecone."

Dave backed away slowly. His stomach tightened into a cold little knot. The older interns stood up and backed away too.

Jason was talking to a gray squirrel that was sitting on a low branch.

"The ecosystem is just a marketplace," Jason yelled at the squirrel. He hit the dirt with his fist. "You are just a node! You have to optimize your nut storage!"

The squirrel chattered aggressively and ran higher into the branches.

"Coward," Jason muttered. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the leaves. "The sky is made of spreadsheets."

Dave looked around the dark woods. The shadows were getting longer. The air was getting colder. They were lost in a swamp with fifty pounds of useless seeds, ruined food, and a boss who thought trees were graphs.

The Ravine

A loud snapping sound broke the silence. Dave spun around.

Marla stepped through the thick bushes. She pushed a heavy branch out of her way. Her face was red and she was breathing heavily. Her heavy leather boots were coated in fresh mud. She carried a thick wooden walking stick in her right hand.

"I followed the trail of ruined sneakers and terrible ideas," Marla said. Her voice was harsh and loud.

Dave felt a rush of relief. His chest stopped feeling so tight.

Marla walked past Dave and looked down at Jason. Jason was still lying on his back in the dirt. He was tracing invisible squares in the air with his dirty finger.

"Venture capital," Jason whispered to a cloud.

"Get up," Marla said. She kicked the sole of Jason's ruined shoe with her heavy boot. "You ate the Bane-berries, didn't you?"

Jason slowly sat up. He blinked heavily. "I sourced local nutrients."

"You poisoned yourself because you trust a phone screen more than your own eyes," Marla said. She grabbed the collar of his gray shirt and hauled him to his feet. Jason swayed and leaned against the oak tree.

Marla turned to the interns. "Grab your bags. We are leaving. The sun goes down in an hour. If we stay in this swamp, the temperature drop will cause hypothermia."

Dave did not want to put the heavy hemp sack back on. But he was terrified of Marla, so he grabbed the rough straps and pulled it onto his shoulders. His back screamed in pain.

"Follow me," Marla said. She did not use a phone. She looked at the moss on the trees and the slant of the sun. She started walking through the thick brush.

They walked for twenty minutes. The ground began to slope downward. It grew steeper with every step.

"Careful here," Marla called over her shoulder. "The rain washed out this ridge."

Jason was walking directly behind Marla. He was still stumbling. He stepped on a large patch of loose, wet leaves. His foot slipped sideways. He flailed his arms. He bumped heavily into Marla's shoulder.

Marla lost her balance. She slid backward. Her boots slipped in the mud. She grabbed for a branch, but it snapped in her hand. She tumbled over the edge of the steep drop-off.

Jason fell forward, sliding down the hill on his stomach.

The older interns panicked and tried to back up, but the ground gave way beneath them. They slid down the mud.

Dave stood at the top for one second. Then the mud beneath his shoes crumbled. He fell backward. He slid down the steep bank on his bottom. The mud was cold and wet. It soaked completely through his pants. The rough hemp sack bumped against his head as he slid.

He landed at the bottom in a large pile of decaying brown leaves. The smell of rotting wood and wet earth filled his nose.

He sat up. He was at the bottom of a deep ravine. The dirt walls went straight up on both sides. The walls were ten feet high and covered in slippery mud.

"Everyone okay?" Marla asked. She stood up and brushed wet leaves off her green pants. She looked furious.

"My pants are dirty," Dave said quietly.

"We are in a depression," Jason said. He was sitting in a puddle. He stared blankly at the mud wall. "A market dip. We just need to wait for the bounce."

Marla rubbed her forehead with her dirty hand. "It is a ravine, you fool. We have to climb out before it gets totally dark."

Then Dave heard the noise.

It was a low, heavy sound. It sounded like a massive engine idling underground. Twigs snapped loudly at the far end of the ravine. Something very large was moving through the brush.

A bear walked out of the shadows.

It was a black bear. It was enormous. To Dave, it looked like a furry black bus. Its fur was thick and coarse. Its head swung low to the ground. Its black nose twitched rapidly. It was smelling the air. It smelled the opened bags of genetically modified kale seeds.

Dave's breath hitched in his throat. His entire body went completely stiff. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribs like a tiny fist.

Marla froze. She slowly raised her hands. "Nobody move," she whispered. Her voice was barely a breath. "Do not make a sound. Do not run."

Jason did not listen.

He stood up from the puddle. He wiped his hands on his pants. He looked at the bear. His eyes were still wide and glassy from the poisonous berries.

"A bear market," Jason said. His voice was bright and loud.

"Jason, stop," Marla hissed.

"You have to show dominance," Jason said. He reached down and picked up a rusted metal pitchfork with a long wooden handle. He had forced one of the older interns to carry it earlier. "I can handle this. I took a seminar on aggressive negotiation."

Jason stepped directly toward the massive black bear. He pointed the rusty prongs of the pitchfork at the animal's face.

"Hey!" Jason shouted. "Hey, buddy! Let us talk about your asset allocation!"

The bear stopped walking. It lifted its massive head. It looked at Jason. It had small, dark eyes. It did not care about asset allocation. It let out a low, rumbling huff of air from its nostrils and took a heavy step forward.

Jason swung the pitchfork. He swung it like a baseball bat.

He missed the bear completely.

The metal prongs smashed into a large, solid boulder protruding from the ravine wall. The impact sent a violent shockwave down the wooden handle.

The dry wood snapped in half instantly. The crack sounded like a loud gunshot in the enclosed ravine.

Jason stood frozen. He held a tiny, jagged piece of broken wood in his hands. The heavy metal end of the pitchfork lay uselessly in the mud.

Jason looked at the broken stick. He looked up at the bear.

"Pivot," Jason whispered.

He turned around, ran back, and hid directly behind Dave.

The Puke

The bear ignored Jason completely. It walked past the broken pitchfork. It walked right up to the pile of biodegradable hemp sacks that had tumbled down the hill with them. The rough fabric of one sack had split open during the fall.

A massive pile of genetically modified super-kale seeds spilled out into the mud. The seeds were completely unnatural. They glowed with a faint, toxic-looking neon green color in the dim light of the ravine.

The bear lowered its heavy head. It opened its jaws and took a massive bite out of the pile of glowing green seeds. It chewed loudly. The sound of its teeth crushing the hard seeds echoed off the dirt walls.

The bear swallowed.

Instantly, the bear stopped moving. Its ears pinned back flat against its massive head. Its small eyes crossed. Its stomach produced a horrific, liquid gurgling sound that sounded like a washing machine full of rocks.

The bear's mouth dropped open. It let out a loud, miserable groan.

It leaned forward and violently vomited the entire mouthful of neon green mush. The thick, glowing puddle splashed heavily onto the ground, directly onto the toe of Jason's ruined white sneakers.

The bear took a step backward. It shook its head rapidly side to side, throwing globs of green spit into the air. It made a disgusted, snorting noise. It turned its massive body around, scrambled up the far wall of the ravine with shocking speed, and disappeared into the trees. It wanted absolutely nothing to do with the seeds.

Dave stared at the puddle of glowing green vomit on Jason's shoe.

"Total rejection," Marla said loudly. She lowered her hands. The tension left her shoulders. "Even a wild animal that eats garbage out of dumpsters refuses your crop."

Jason stared down at his shoe. He slowly lifted his foot and tried to wipe the neon green slime on a patch of dead grass. It only smeared the vomit deeper into the white fabric.

"It is an acquired taste," Jason said quietly. His voice trembled.

"You are a hazard to yourself and everything around you," Marla said. She did not yell this time. She just sounded extremely tired.

Marla walked over to the steepest part of the ravine wall. She kicked the toes of her heavy leather boots deeply into the mud, creating a small step. She climbed up halfway, then reached her hand down.

"Come on," Marla said.

Dave grabbed her hand. Her palm was rough and covered in thick calluses. She had a very strong grip. She pulled him up the slick mud wall easily. She pulled the other interns up next. Finally, she glared down at Jason until he scrambled up the mud, slipping twice before reaching the top.

They left the heavy hemp sacks in the ravine. Nobody told them to pick them up.

The walk back to the dirt parking lot took two hours. It was completely dark by the time they arrived. The only light came from the yellow streetlamps near the road.

Marla talked the entire way back. She did not stop. She lectured Jason continuously. She used large, complicated words that Dave did not understand, but he knew the tone perfectly. It was the tone a teacher used when a student did something incredibly foolish.

"You have no respect for the dirt," Marla said as they reached the edge of the parking lot. "You think everything is a screen. You think you can just code away nature. You cannot swipe away a hungry bear. You cannot program a tree to grow in acid. You are totally detached from reality."

Jason did not argue. He just held his cracked phone in front of his face. The screen was black. The battery had died an hour ago.

Dave's mother was waiting by her car. She leaned against the driver's side door. When she saw Dave, she ran over and wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders. Dave buried his face in her heavy wool coat. The rough fabric carried the sharp scent of old coffee.

"Look at you," his mother said. She pulled back and looked at his muddy clothes and his mosquito bites. "How was the technology camp?"

Dave looked at Jason. Jason was standing by his silver car, using a wet wipe to furiously scrub the bear vomit off his sneaker.

"A bear threw up on his shoes," Dave said flatly.

His mother laughed, thinking it was a joke. She opened the car door for him.

A week later, Dave sat on his living room couch. He was eating a bowl of cereal. The television was on. He flipped the channel and stopped.

Jason was on the screen. He was standing on a brightly lit stage in front of a massive audience. He wore a brand new, bright orange puffy vest. His sneakers were pristine white again. A large photograph of the Thunder Bay forest was projected on the screen behind him.

"The kale initiative was a necessary beta test," Jason said into a headset microphone. He paced back and forth across the stage. "We failed fast. We learned. We discovered a massive, untapped demand for raw, unfiltered eco-encounters."

Dave stopped chewing his cereal.

"Our new platform, BearMarket Survival, just closed a one million dollar seed round," Jason announced. He smiled his bright white smile. "We bring the boardroom to the woods. Real danger. Real growth."

The audience clapped loudly.

Dave put his cereal bowl down on the table. He picked up the remote and pressed the red button. The television screen popped and went completely black.