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By Root 1267 0

and he and Charlie watched fascinated as the ladders were assembled and scaled. The nimble climbers disappeared onto the roof and then dropped ropes beside the ladder, to help stabilize their climb and also to haul things up. The struts and wiring had been installed weeks ago, but there was a waiting list for the solar panels themselves. Now they were hooking them to a hoist line. Soon what Charlie and Joe could see of the south side of the roof was covered with gear. It was going to be a grid of sixteen photovoltaic panels, capable of generating all the house’s electricity when the sun was shining. Whenever more electricity was generated by the panels than they used in the house, the excess would be fed back into the grid, and they would be paid for it by the utility district that had recently replaced the private company as their power provider. This was going to give them a big drop in their carbon-burn numbers, and Charlie was sure Anna and Nick would be very pleased.

With a wave to Joe, Cutter and his team took off.

The photovoltaics were indeed very good for their carbon-burn score, and their garden helped a little; but still they were scoring pretty high, and Anna was getting frustrated. “You just can’t do it in a suburban home, when you own a car and a phone and all the stuff.”

“We’re doing better,” Charlie reminded her.

“Yeah, but we’re hitting limits.” Anna stared at her spreadsheet. “I don’t see what else we can do here, either, given the infrastructure and all. I wonder if we should take up the Khembalis’ offer and move in with them.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “It seems to me they’re crowded enough out there.”

“Well, they’ve sent some of their group back to India. They say there’s room.”

“I don’t know. Would you want to do that?”

“I don’t know. In a way I think it would be nice.”

Charlie did not reply. He knew that Anna was concerned about the carbon burn of their house. The numbers there had hooked her in their usual way. For the sake of an elegant result she would contemplate almost anything. And to be fair, Charlie recalled now how involved she had been with the Khembalis from the very start—inviting them over, becoming friends with Sucandra and Qang, helping their Institute of Higher Studies—learning more Tibetan than any of the rest of them.

“Let’s talk to the boys about it,” he temporized.

“Sure. And maybe check it out the next time we’re out there for dinner. See what it might really entail.”

“If we can. We might not be able to tell in a visit.”

“Well, of course.”

“And, you know,” he reminded her, “we’re doing better here than most people who live in a single family house.”

“True. But maybe that isn’t good enough anymore.”

After that Charlie wandered around the house, feeling strange. It was almost sunset outside, and inside the house it was getting dark. The others were out in the kitchen, clattering about as they got dinner started.

Charlie stood in the living room looking around. Something about it caught his eye. A quality of the evening light. It looked like a place that had been lived in long ago. There was a tangle of trucks on the carpet, but otherwise things were cleaned up. It looked spare. Perhaps Frank’s comment about Nick going to UCSD had put him in an odd frame of mind. Of course all these things would happen. But the years after Nick’s birth had been so intense; and since Joe’s arrival, even more so. It had filled his mind. It had crowded everything else out; it had seemed the only reality. He could have said, Once there was an island in time, just off Wisconsin Avenue: a mother, a father, two boys, two cats; and it seemed like it would last forever. But then…

That was all it took, just then and then and then another then. Enough thens and then the island was gone. Someday other people would live in this house. It was an odd thought to have. Charlie sat down, looked around at the room as if it might vanish. One day he would break the couch under him into splinters so it would fit in the trash cans to be hauled away. Island after island went under, and the little