A Springtime Departure

Originally submitted to Solarpunk Magazine’s “Solarpunk in the Sky” microfiction contest:

Natalia's son has named all of the survey drones. Rafa dubbed the one she is preparing for flight “Mira.” He drew smudgy little characters on its long, tapering fuselage when it was first printed. “Friends,” he said. “So it won’t get lonely when it’s working.”

Natalia and her partner Esme finish checking wires, actuators, joints, and sensors. They carefully fold Mira’s four solar wings along its back, and lock its sensor gimbal for launch. The drone is longer than Natalia is tall, and it takes both adults to secure it into the cradle.

Rafa's eyes light up when Esme hands him the starter button. He jabs it with both thumbs. The launch arm spins gradually faster until, singing, it flings Mira into the sky. In moments, the drone is out of sight.

Gliding silently, Mira and its siblings will survey the landscape from above. Software will shift their wings to catch the currents that keep them aloft for two weeks as they gradually spiral back home again. They will taste the composition of the air, feel the fluctuations in microclimates, and watch the land with eyes wide to light we cannot see. It’s one of the ways we care for our neighbors: the animals, the rivers, and the trees.

Many of Natalia’s other Caretaker friends obsess over data collected on the solstices, but she favors equinox launches. They are times of transition, when the world becomes new again. She looks down at her son, still peering up at the sky.