Solarpunk is a literary and artistic movement which envisions a more sustainable, connected future. In this short story, Green Hood, Alex Porter takes us on a walk through Nottingham in the year 2123 where reforestation, urban farming, a circular economy and community energy production have helped humanity avoid climate collapse...
Scarlett aimed her arrow at the entrance to the castle. The Sheriff of Nottingham would be coming out soon, and she was hoping for a clear shot. A decrepit creaking noise signalled the opening of the gates. Blinkered to the world around her, open eye focused on the target, still as a statue, all that she needed to do was uncurl the tips of three fingers and send her arrow on its path to justice. She held her breath…
“Boo!” cried a voice behind her.
The cork-ended arrow hit a tree just in front of her and fell into a patch of bluebells, raising a small murmuration of bees.
“You know you shouldn’t really shoot tourists,” said her friend, Jake. “ Nor trees for that matter,” he smiled.
“Of course I’m not going to shoot anyone! That would be so 21st century, and it’s not like my arrows can do any harm, anyway,” she said. “It’s really boring around here. My mum said I could help her finish repairing the solar panel for your irrigation system, but that’s hardly revolutionary. What are you up to?”
“Helping Dad with the harvest. Wanna come?”
Scarlett sighed. She glanced back at the ancient statue of Robin Hood, its bronze body, changed to a ‘Lincoln green’ over the passing seasons, not just with oxidisation, but due to a thick cloak of creeping plants that almost fully camouflaged the outlaw from the ghosts of his wealthy enemies, giving him the impression of merging back into the forest from which his legend was born.
It felt fitting that his statue stood at the heart of a reforested city. The trees lining the streets and parklands officially outnumbered the buildings ten to one, as outlined in the 2025 Urban Jungle Act, shielding Nottingham from heat waves. But it was a wonder how any approaching airship pilot could find East Midlands airport at all.
“Do you think he actually wore a cloak of living plants?” asked Scarlett.
Jake stopped and stood in an unnaturally wide stance, hands on hips, chest puffed out and chin high. “I am Plant Man; half man, half ivy-leaved toadflax,” he declared. “Stand and deliver - your vegetables or your life?!”
Scarlett laughed. “But vegetables are your life!”
Jake considered that for a moment. “That’s true. My mum says vegetables are everyone’s life. She says our great grandparents nearly starved, and had to import all their food from the other side of the world before they learnt how to grow stuff in the cities. I can’t imagine it. What would we do without food?”
“I don’t know,” replied Scarlett, “but I’m hungry.”
“Fear not! I will feed you, poor, famished maiden. First one to my house gets the biggest strawberry!” Jake shouted, and raced off down the tree-tunnelled streets, sending a pair of coral coloured jays screeching like parrots into the urban canopy. Scarlett stopped to catch a falling feather, tucking it into her green hood, and ran after him, skipping over the root-framed cobblestones of Castle Gate.
She caught up with Jake at the lights on Maid Marian Way, grateful for the rest and the sweet spring air. Waiting pedestrians lined the pavement watching as the old tram led a procession of electric vehicles that weaved around each other like silent carnival dancers. The lights turned green and the friends turned right, down through the Broadmarsh orchards where tiny green apples shone like Christmas baubles in the May sunshine.
Above them towered the vertical farms, voluptuous with vegetation. Scarlett turned her hot face up to catch the cooling drips.
Jake led them into a dark hallway.
“The solar panel powers the lights and the water pressure lift as well…” Jake had plenty of time to explain as they plodded up the seven flights of stairs.
“Strawberries need sunshine to taste sweet,” Jake said as they emerged back into the light of the rooftop farm, “but not too much, so we plant them east-facing on the roof, and mix them with marigolds to deter the aphids. And, speaking of deterring pests, over here…” he said, navigating the labyrinth of raised beds, trees and glasshouses, “we have the real superheroes… These repurposed plastic bottles are lacewing houses.”
Jake peered into the open end of a hanging bottle and carefully pulled out a small green insect with white lace wings.
“Wow!” said Scarlett. “Is that why it’s called the Lace Market?”
“You need a lesson in history more than just myths and legends,” Jake frowned.
Scarlett blushed almost the shade of her name.
“Lace is a type of material rich people wore. For hundreds of years, most people worked for big companies, like lace makers, who profited from treating the planet poorly. Some companies cut great holes in the ground for coal and oil to make energy. It poisoned our air and our water. It caused the breakdown of the seasons that sustain all life on Earth, and they became so rich and powerful that wars were fought over oil fields, and many people feared that change would never come.”
“I know!” Scarlett interrupted. “They taught us that at school.”
“But do you see now why making our own energy and food is so important? How, as long as we maintain our community power supplies, those dark days will never come again?”
Jake carried the lacewing over to a wall that was dripping with strawberries and handed her a watering can. “No solar panel, remember. We have to water by hand.”
“Okay, Plant Man. I get the message,” Scarlett said, wide eyes taking in the vast vertical garden.
“The first one you pick is for next year. We can save the seeds,” Jake began, as he set the first strawberry to one side.
“The damaged ones we put out for the birds, because they spread the seeds all around the city,” he went on, as he pulled a slug-eaten strawberry out and put it by the birdbath.
“I never knew picking strawberries was so revolutionary,” Scarlett said as she carefully tipped a little water into each pot.
“And the biggest one is for," Jake said as he triumphantly held up the largest strawberry Scarlett had ever seen, “the superhero who fixes our solar panel.”
Scarlett’s face lit up not at the size of the fruit, but at the seed of an idea. Fixing an old solar panel was starting to feel a bit rebellious. Standing with her hands on her hips and chin to the sky she replied, “Solar Power Woman at your service.”
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