He was the only one there, braving the drizzle and the cold to walk to the park during his lunch hour. He sat at one of the furthest row of seats, not seeming comfortable or at ease. Instead he was leaning forward, back not touching the seat, his gaze fixed on the tree and its plaque, so far away he only knew the plaque was there because of the occasional flash of bronze as it was lit by a ray of sun breaking through the smog and clouds. It didn't matter how far he was from it, he knew the words by heart. 

"Flora Memorial Park- with this seed we strive towards a better world." 

Beneath those words, the date of the planting had been etched into the metal, and even in five short years they had been eaten away by acid rain.

On the day of the planting, it was impossible for him to imagine this place as empty as it was now. Even having lived in the city all his life, it was more people than he'd ever seen in the one place. As a boy of fifteen, he'd near been clinging to his mother's hand from fear of being separated from them in the crowd. The brightest day they'd had in years, hearing thousands of conversations, young and old, strangers and families, saying almost the same thing-

"Bright today, isn't it?"

"Reminds me of when I was a girl, it does."

"Do you think the tree'll like it?"

Every seat had been filled and more placed throughout the park, yet others still stood to watch as the seed was planted. The video was displayed on screens throughout the city, thousands watching there what they couldn't see from their homes. It had been front page news for weeks- a new leaf, a longer stem, this seed the living hopes of the city itself. It had changed his life, that tiny seed, the product of years of work. It had been altered to be able to survive the toxicity that filled the air he breathed even now, through the fabric of the mask covering his mouth and nose. He wore it regularly enough that it often felt like a part of his skin- a necessity reflected on the faces of those around him, all knowing nothing different. But when he was here...when he could see that tree, that bloom of green, leaves taking in the weak sunlight; when he was here he almost wanted to take the mask off. If the tree could survive here, why couldn't he?

He realised abruptly that his fingers were resting against the worn straps, itching to untie them.

"Don't be stupid," he said aloud, tightening the strap instead, however much he wanted to tear it in two. It would achieve nothing- at best it would fill his mouth with the taste of fumes, at worst it would make him sick. He took a deep breath- fabric rough against his skin, the coldness of the air settling in his lungs bringing him back to earth. "You weren't made in a lab. You can't take off the mask- not yet." Originally the Restoration Department had promised more trees like this one, capable of filtering the cities' air over time. It would be a restoration; it was in their very name. The name was a relic of their original intentions- a real park, like the ones he saw in old pictures of the city, the image people had dreamed of in the months following the planting. But it never came. And after five years of no progress, the public seemed to have lost interest. He hadn't, however. The possibility, as remote as it was, that the air could be cleared, that trees could survive, that the world could become a better place... it was enough for him to strive for. He wanted to be a part of the Restoration Department.

No matter how long he spent working in the factories- another two or three months, it was nothing to someone who had been there four years already. He'd get there- he'd be one of the few. Then he'd do all he could to make his dream become reality.

As he stared forwards at the tree, he let himself drift into a daydream, still holding up the umbrella against the rain that kept falling and irritating his skin where it managed to soak through. Nonetheless, it was only a minor distraction from the focus of his attention.

He dreamed of walking through forests. Watching life, more than the scurrying creatures, mice and rats, more than the occasional snarling dogs he saw in apartment windows, confined to the stale filtered air. He dreamed of smaller things, insects like butterflies, fragile splashes of colour, so short lived that some of them hatched and lived and died all in a matter of weeks. They had been some of the first creatures to be affected by the pollution- he'd never seen a live one. Looking up at clear skies, breathing deep lungfuls of air that didn't fill his senses with the odour of metal and fumes. Wide eyed, he dipped a hand in the water that flowed through rivers rather than sluggish pipes, feeling the rapidity of its movement as if it had somewhere it wanted to be. He lay beneath trees like the one before him, for once allowed to touch rather than just look on from a distance. While looking to the future, he immersed himself in a past that no longer existed.

A steady beeping sound made him come back to himself, realising the rain had stopped, realising who he was. A lone worker, holding an umbrella against rain that no longer fell, looking at a relic of a time long since gone. Dreaming.

Still seeing the dream forest in a distant part of his mind, he glanced down at his watch. On its surface, numbers flashed red in alert. His lunch hour was almost over. He had exactly eight minutes to be back at his station before the next shift started- if he was late, it would be another score against his name. Another thing holding him back from his goal. Though the sky was clearing- of clouds, at least, the gray layer of smog remained the same on all days- he left his umbrella up as he stood and started to run back through the streets, a lone patch of blue in a city fallen into grayscale.