The boreal forest reclaims the shoreline
cottages along Lake Temagami by 2043. Decades
after climate migration emptied the summer
colonies, only charred foundations and rotting
docks remain. The federal land audit declares
the region “nonrecoverable” following uranium
leaching detected in groundwater — a legacy of
Cold War–era experiments repurposed during the
2018 Northern Resource Initiative. The world now
operates on filtered borehole networks; surface
water is legally nonpotable, a rule etched into
survival law.
A woman walks the old rail spur alone, her
mining fatigues stained with ochre dust. She was
part of the last deepcore team at the Cobalt7
shaft before it imploded. No bodies recovered.
Official report blames structural fatigue. She
knows better — felt the tremor pattern shift
seconds before collapse, too precise for geology.
She reaches her late grandmother’s cabin, roof
sagging but walls intact. Inside, a child’s
hockey trophy glints under dust: hers, from ’98.
No electricity, no signal, but she powers a
handheld spectrometer scavenged from the mine
office. First scan of the lake shows isotopes
above threshold. Second confirms militarygrade
residue — cesium137, linked to Project Northstar,
declassified only in redacted fragments.
She hikes to the township hall in Temiskaming
Shores. The municipal board denies access to
water testing logs. A notice posted in French
and English states all local data is “federally
archived.” That night, someone slashes her tires.
Not random — the cuts are deep, methodical.
She drives anyway, towing the trailer north
toward Ottawa River tributaries. At dawn, she
dumps ten litres of contaminated silt onto the
steps of a regional Environment Canada outpost.
Guards lock down the site within minutes. By
noon, news drones circle the area. Federal
scientists arrive in sealed suits.
Within 48 hours, three cabinet ministers issue
statements denying operational oversight. A
junior minister resigns. Satellite images later
show barges dredging the lake at midnight,
dumping sludge into decommissioned railway
tunnels beneath the Laurentians — repurposed as
illegal waste corridors since the VIA corridor
shutdown in 2031.
She burns the cabin down. Not for revenge — the
act erases her fingerprints, GPS tags, and any
link to the spectrometer data now circulating on
offline meshnets.
One month later, a new bylaw passes: all private
land within 50 km of former Crown resource zones
is subject to “ecological rehabilitation seizure.
” Compensation offered in bonds, not cash.
Families flee inland.
She boards a northbound freight train near
Capreol. Her pack holds two things: a vial of
blackened water and a list of 17 names —
contractors, geologists, officials —
crossreferenced from mine manifests and landfill
permits.
Winter sets early. The first snow masks the
tracks. The contamination spreads slower than
fear.
