Stéphanie had been in one of Mathieu's fields since dawn, just like the day before, the day before that, and the day before that. The sun was relentless, so she wore a wide-brimmed straw hat and an old shirt that covered her arms. She didn't want to get sunburned like last year when she stayed out in a t-shirt.
Her skin, especially on her arms, neck, and face, had turned as red as a ripe tomato and had been very sensitive for over a week. Her skin, cooked by the sun's rays, had then started to peel off like a snake's old skin.
The young girl was continuing to grow and was also becoming more mature. Working with adults, she quickly realized that she no longer had the luxury of behaving like a child.
After washing in the river so often, her hair had finally returned to its original color, a Venetian blond quite close to coppery red. There was no longer a trace of blue color even at the tips of her hair.
Her hands were tired from handling tools, and sometimes she had difficulty opening her hands because she had exerted so much force. It felt as though her bones had begun to fuse together. Her case was far from unique, as everyone was going through a tough period.
What she found very unfair was that the men in the community seemed to fare better than she, her sister, or the other women in the group. Even if they came home every evening with aching bodies, they always had enough energy to do things.
Stéphanie, on the other hand, ended her days collapsing onto her bed.
She worked hard, and everyone could see her progress, for which she regularly received compliments and encouragement. She had become faster, more efficient, and now knew the plants well. A glance was enough for her to differentiate between two plants. However, she still made mistakes because she was still learning.
Her sister, Marie, was the first to be surprised by this transformation. Neither of them knew this environment before the blackout, but Stéphanie started from further behind. She who previously spent most of her time on screens, whether for work or pleasure, never participated in the maintenance of their former garden. She could miss a meal with her family just to watch a movie or series in peace. More than once, she had stayed awake past three in the morning even though she had to wake up at seven to go to class.
That day, for the first time, she went to work without her cell phone. It was ridiculous, but in just over a year, she had never dared to part with her phone. She always kept it on her, most often in the back pocket of her pants.
Marie noticed this detail and smiled slightly, but it was a sad smile because it meant that Stéphanie had finally managed to mourn the world before. She had come to accept that nothing would return to normal and that her phone would never work again.
Marie had long since left hers at the farm. Like her younger sister, she couldn't bring herself to throw it away because the phone's memory contained hundreds of photos, some representing precious moments with their parents. It was for this reason, which she believed was worth a million, that she said nothing to her sister all those times she saw Stéphanie checking her phone or falling asleep holding it like a stuffed animal.
Stéphanie was harvesting carrots sown four months earlier. The harvest was fairly decent, which was a great relief. Their leeks hadn't grown well a few months earlier and were neither numerous nor large. They were more optimistic about the butternut squash harvest. They had received some seeds from neighbors to get started. She had planted the seeds at the end of April and watched with anxiety as the first leaves emerged. They were very relieved when they saw the stems grow and thicken week after week. The squashes had started to grow, but it would be many months before they were mature.
"Stéphanie!" called Mathieu from his cereal crop plot. "When you're done with the carrots, could you take care of the cucumbers?"
"Yes!"
Mathieu and his team had planted more than one variety of vegetables on their lands. The largest plot was dedicated to wheat cultivation, and it was the right time for harvesting. Stéphanie was working alone on the vegetables for now because all hands were needed for the harvest.
The cucumbers weren't all ripe, but some could already be picked and eaten. The vines sprawled in all directions and covered a large area, like the butternuts. If they hadn't taken some measures, they would have invaded other spaces and smothered the other crops.
To reduce the area covered by these particularly invasive vegetables, Stéphanie had built numerous wire mesh "tents" for the plants to grow on. This way, each plant could grow without taking up too much space. The second advantage was that the vegetables wouldn't drag too much on the ground, making them less exposed to voracious insects.
Once her task was accomplished, she only had to water the plants.
Like the lettuces, which were also doing well, the cucumber plants were thirsty for water. However, she had to be careful about the time she watered them. If she did it now, in this heat, all the water would evaporate in moments. The plants wouldn't benefit. But that wasn't the worst: the plants could burn!
They had no bags of compost, fertilizer, or pesticides. They had to make do with enriching the soil with organic waste and hoping there wouldn't be voracious insects or diseases. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. The harvest wasn't good. Compared to yields before the blackout, it was even catastrophic.
Fortunately, this harvest wasn't intended to be sold but consumed locally.
Although the yield was very low, barely a quarter of what Mathieu had obtained on his land two years earlier with the same area, they would have enough to eat until the following summer. Moreover, they weren't the only ones growing wheat around Précy-sur-Marne.
They, too, had disappointing yields.
A little further away, the lentils would soon be ready for harvesting. Mathieu had found some green lentils in his cupboards before leaving his farm, which needed to be cooked for consumption. They could therefore be planted, and the great advantage of this plant was that it grew very quickly. They had worked the soil between January and February despite the cold, rain, and hail to sow in March. In three or four days, they had started to grow.
"Good! I can harvest these," commented the young girl to herself, observing the cucumber plants. "They're a bit small, but they're ripe."
Carefully, she cut the stems and placed her harvest in a plastic crate, which she then placed in the shed with the tools and other harvests.
This building, attached to the house, was modest. The important thing was to protect what was inside from the rain. They had paid a lot of attention when making the roof. The cereals were particularly vulnerable, so they couldn't afford to make mistakes.
The potato harvest had certainly been the most profitable, as each plant had yielded five or six potatoes! Two square meters of plantings had thus allowed Stéphanie to gather about twelve kilos of potatoes!
The young market gardener's goal was to triple the area the following year using all the small potatoes.
When the day came to an end, the entire community gathered in the small house. Stéphanie was the last to arrive, as it was time to water the plants. She hurried to make her last trip to the river with her watering cans filled to the brim.
After more than a year without electricity, the river was much less polluted than before, but there were still traces of chemicals, heavy metals, and plastics. Everything came from the wastewater treatment plants that had stopped working during the blackout and had ended up overflowing and flooding. Everything that had passed through the sewers to these out-of-service sites had ended up in rivers and oceans.
Unknowingly, many people had polluted their land using this water for irrigation. But that wasn't all: many animals and people had died from poisoning by drinking it. Throughout France, epidemics of cholera, diarrhea, dysentery, and others wreaked havoc. The situation was just starting to improve, but the damage to the environment was considerable.
The building that served as their living quarters wasn't insulated like the other houses in Précy-sur-Marne, which were made of reinforced concrete and cinder blocks, but it wasn't too bad since it was July. The walls were thick to keep the heat in winter and the cool in summer.
Ah, finally, I can sit down and stop running around!
Everyone was gathered around the table, enjoying a good meal. There were potatoes on the menu, harvested by Stéphanie, of course, and grilled wild boar.
These animals had multiplied in peace but had quickly become a choice prey. That said, taking down one of these animals wasn't within everyone's reach. There was no doubt that in a few years they would be everywhere.
Amin and his mother, although Muslims, both took some because they hadn't had meat to eat since they had eaten Olivier's dog. His wife, Emma, and their daughter, little Zoé, had some difficulties for obvious reasons. The poor dog had died of old age.
They had bought this wild boar three days earlier from another farmer in the village who had been lucky. A small herd had passed through his land, and because he had a hunting rifle, he had been able to shoot one. Everyone had heard the gunshot and had been very scared that it would attract the attention of ill-intentioned people. Firearms were rare in France, as they were highly regulated. Having one was a significant advantage. Fortunately, no one had come to their village to investigate and try to take it.
Mathieu had paid this farmer mainly with items from Paris. Although rare these days, they would never be worth the cartridge used to shoot that beast. This was Stéphanie's opinion, and it was shared by almost everyone in the house. As they savored it, they felt like they had made a good deal.
The wild boar had a strong taste, but it was very good. It was very close to ham, with a wild flavor that was hard to describe and a smoky smell. After six meals, nothing was left but bones.
Usually, after sharing a well-deserved meal, the group stayed in the common room for a while to chat or keep busy. Olivier was sitting at the table with some tools, trying to carve a piece of wood into a chess piece. The ones he had already made were carefully stored in a small box next to him. As he did this, he listened to the ongoing conversation.
"What I miss the most," Marie said, rubbing her hands, "is YouTube. Especially for listening to music."
"Going to the cinema," suggested Emma, with a nostalgic smile.
"Having a pizza," added her husband, recalling the smell of melted cheese and the sight of a thick dough rising.
"Oh yes," Zoé salivated. "Or a McDonald's!"
"Ah, I'm more of a KFC team," remarked Mathieu, imagining a big bucket full of fried chicken and lots of different sauces.
"I'm more into kebabs, personally," commented Amin, scratching his beard as dark as his hair.
"Sending text messages," sighed Stéphanie, mechanically placing her hand in her empty jean pocket.
"Getting lost in TV or a streaming site."
"Drinking alcohol."
"Turning on the lights when I come home late at night."
"Shopping at the supermarket."
"Hanging out with my friends."
"Going to school."
"It kills me to say it, but… going to work."
The list was long. They had lost so much, the ability to do so many things. The most trivial things became treasures in their memory.
"Playing with Leto," said Zoé, wiping away a small tear.
"Challenging my brothers to video games," continued Amin in a low tone.
"Talking with my parents," murmured Stéphanie.