It’s going to be okay.
Árni Reynisson is one of the few people left who remember the old world, despite his best efforts to forget. He remembers the panic that spread like wildfire, faster than the Rash. He remembers how people denied what was happening until they couldn't anymore. We’ll be fine, everyone had said. We’re prepared this time. This new “Rash illness” was supposed to be just another SARS or MERS-on the news for a few weeks, then gone. It was not.
Árni cannot afford to dwell on the nightmare the Rash brought, and the years of famine that followed. There is only here and now, his therapist once told him. And right now, he is harvesting mandarins. The trees are all huddled against the southern wall of the greenhouse he’s in. He carefully pulls the ripe fruits from the branches and drops them in his basket.
We’ll have food this winter, probably.
Árni finds caring for the plants incredibly relaxing, something he probably would have hated when he was younger but he’s changed. Iceland had changed too. The windows of the greenhouse have complex runes and patterns carved into them, and those same runes have been painted anywhere the “mages” see fit. They’re supposed to help the plants grow faster and stronger. To Árni, this seems like nonsense. His old god did nothing as the old world burned, and he doesn't think the Norse gods will help either, even if they exist. According to Reykjavik, however, the Norse gods saved Iceland from the Rash. Reykjavik is in the process of rewriting history to suit that narrative.
For now, though, he doesn't need to worry about that. The new faith is bringing shattered communities back together, and the harvests have been getting better every year, and for the first time since the old world fell, Árni feels safe and content.
It’s going to be okay.
