> Hey hey, and welcome to my story, TREEvolution. I'm a german author and I hope you will like it, and please, if you see any typos or have tips for me, leave a comment. A fair warning, this story is R-18. There will be blood, death, and other gruesome stuff. Have fun!
It was a normal day for Marco, at least if you could call a protest of nature and climate activists who were fighting against the police to protect a thousand-year-old tree, a normal day.
Both parties really didn't like each other but wanted to come to a compromise. That was where Marco came into play. Why? Because Marco was a mediator, not a good one, but he tried his best. Well, actually, his regular job was as a lawyer, but he thought it would be nice to have a wider reach of experience when it came to resolving conflicts. But for whatever reason, most of his time these days went into those climate protests where neither of the parties could come to a solution for themselves. He was kinda annoyed about that—honestly, it couldn't be that hard to, you know, listen to the people who will vote for you. But the Nartsche Bahn wanted to fucking build an underground train station in an area under monument protection, because why not. They bent the law, demoted the city's cultural heritage management employees in charge of the project, and one-two-three, the protection was now only valid for the area around the train station. Even blind people could see that something corrupt happened there, so obviously, there would be protests.
Marco shook his head. So much bullshit, especially when he read about a report—the Bahn itself commissioned but never published—that proved that it wasn't even possible to build the tunnels to connect the station with the outside world. Some of the rock layers consisted of Gipskeuper. The funny thing about it was that it would swell for a hundred years if it got wet. Before they started their project, they bored a tiny hole to test if it would be suited for tunnels; a year later, the entire old town of a nearby city had been raised almost half a meter. And you know what, you couldn't tunnel without water; it was impossible. Yet, those complete idiots still wanted to build it—stupid bastards.
Now he had to somehow resolve their shit so there wouldn't be a bloodbath, literally. It wasn't the first time in the last few months that something like this had happened. He knew the fault lay with the local politicians who were way too greedy for their own good, but so many people of this country also looked away. They would post online stuff like 'Poor nature!', 'We need to change this', and so on, but they never would do anything themselves when push came to shove.
Marco was deeply saddened. Protecting nature or making at least the minimum effort to preserve it and ensure that future generations would have something from it couldn't be that hard—at least in his humble opinion. Yet Marco never attended one of those protests; he just wasn't fit for stuff like this. He was aware of his hypocrisy, but some habits were hard to change. Therefore, he tried smaller things. He ate less meat and tried not to heat so much but instead dressed warmly and rode by bike as often as possible. In addition, he had a small collection of plants in his apartment, albeit with sober success. But at least he tried to do something.
"Sir, we're here," said the taximan. He gave him the money, got out of the car, and was immediately welcomed by loud screams and yells which were only carried further by the strong wind and deafening thunder. What a shitty day, he thought and deeply sighed.
Marco still had to walk a few hundred meters to the park where the protest was held because the police sealed off most of the area, preventing more people from coming. Still, the numbers the police officer said over the phone were not nearly what he saw here; there were way more than he expected. Probably another group joined to help them out or something like that. Marco thought for a moment, and somewhere in his brain, he remembered that there was another protest today in the city about some other stuff. He didn't bother to remember what it was about, but maybe he should have.
When he came close, a policewoman tried to stop him, but he showed his unique identification as a mediator, and she let him through. He could see the worker of the Nartsche Bahn waiting for the police force to clear the vicinity so they could start with their illegal work. Utterly disappointing this whole situation, they should help the protestors and the other faction. Marco grabbed his phone and wanted to make a call, but before he could do so, he heard somebody calling his name.
"Ah, Mr.Maxwell, you're here. Good, good. We can finally get rid of these…people," the person said with scorn in his tone. Marco gave him a discerning look and was promptly reminded of some cartoonish evil politician.
The man had black hair combed back with too much gel. The remains on his face, or rather his beard, betrayed his last lunch. He apparently ate Klöße. His beard itself looked as if a child had been tending lawns for the first time, mowing too much in some places and too little in others. The man was also wearing a dark blue suit that could have made one think he was an out-of-shape soufflé. It was something to be ashamed of. To top it all, he had a steaming e-cigarette in his mouth; it smelled like cinnamon-apple...only the apple must have been on the ground way too long.
Marco let his gaze once again drag over the person, and it occurred to him that he already knew this man from countless magazines and talk shows. He belonged to the very right-wing conservative party of the Christian Democratic Entrepreneurs. As far as Marco could remember, their secret internal slogan was 'Money, Power, and Corruption'. At the latest, Marco knew that he had to spend a very long time here today to somehow resolve this conflict.
"Um, yes. I will do my best to get the most beneficial result for everyone," he finally answered the man.
He looked back at him with a wavering smile. "Us, you will do what's best for us."
"Pardon?" Marco asked with a skeptical look.
"You heard me, Mr.Maxwell. The interests of our...party are, well, how do I say this, really important to your health. We wouldn't want some unlucky accidents to happen, do we?"
Urrrrrgh, Marco thought, now totally pissed. He already lost count of how many of those people in the last few months tried to do this shit. All of them kinda forgot what a mediator was. He couldn't dedicate something to someone else; he could only talk and try to settle the dispute and find a compromise. And most of the time, it would end in a failure when it came to stuff like today.
Yet, Marco still had an ace up his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Mr.—"
"Bauer, Mr.Bauer," said the local politician, rudely interrupting him midsentence.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
"Well, yes, Mr.Bauer. I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I can't follow your friendly hint."
For a moment, one could see how Bauer's expression lost his kind fake smile and became a variation somewhere between ire and spite before skipping back again.
"Mr.—" this time, Marco interjected.
"Mr.Bauer, one phone call to my father, and your political career is over," he admonished him. "I don't know how much of a small fry you think I am, but my father isn't. You probably heard of him? Dr. Alfred Grafdorf?"
Bauer's face became deadly pale after hearing this. Marco wasn't surprised about that reaction. When he told people for the first time that his father was Grafdorf, they had somewhat the same response every time. That was totally understandable because his dad was the president of the Federal Constitutional Court in this country, and really no one you wanted to piss off, especially when it came to corruption. Yes, Alfred was a master in his craft but ultimately failed as a person. Marco didn't want to think about all the wrongs he did over all those years. Unconsciously, Marco brushed his arm, which was covered by his jacket. Under it, countless burn scars exist to this day. Yes, his father was not a good man, and in recent years he had less and less contact with him, as far as it could be avoided. It had always been a mystery to him how a person could be so righteous when it came to others, but as soon as it concerned the family, he became a monster. To this day, Marco did regret not going with his mother when she left him after another affair.
A roar of thunder brought him back to reality. It started to drizzle. Without further ado, he turned his back to Mr.Bauer—who shouted something about preparing for unforeseen consequences—and walked up to the tree, where the leader of the protestors seemed to be. Thanks to his identification, they let him through but still had to listen to some slurs and insults directed at him.
Marco blanked out the rest of his surroundings except the path he needed to take. He was only interested in talking with the organizer, finding a solution, and go back home. He didn't notice that rain was now pouring down.
The organizer, some thirty-looking woman, saw him coming nearer and put down her megaphone. She eyed him with a grim expression, but after some other guy whispered something into her ear, it relaxed and became a little bit friendlier. As soon as Marco was in hearing range, she spoke in a mocking tone.
"So, Mr.Whoever, what do you want?"
He sighed for the second time today. Why can't anyone be at least a little bit friendly? It isn't that hard, you know? He thought but answered with an overly warm smile, "I'm sorry to tell you this, but we need to find a solution fast, especially in this heavy rain and with the thunder. Otherwise, the police will use this situation as some kind of excuse to dissolve your protest for your own safety—they will call it 'a risk to public order and safety'. We're standing under the biggest tree in this country during a thunderstorm without anything else around serving as a lightning rod other than this tree. I'm on your side here, but we need some kind of temporary compromise to ensure everyone's safety—tree included."
The woman didn't look pleased about what he said but pondered for a few seconds. She knew that he was right, and they would use this excuse to break up this protest by force. And as soon as they were gone, the waiting construction workers would advance with their heavy machinery and bulldoze everything here. And this was something that could not be allowed to happen under any circumstances. Still, she was skeptical if working with the mediator really would help, especially after she saw him talking to this fucking racist bastard of a so-called voted politician.
Another clap of heavy thunder ultimately took the decision away from her. "Yeah...we need to find some agreement."
Marco nodded, "Okay, first of all, you all need to get further away from the tree so that we have greater leeway with this safety stuff. After this is done, we will talk again."
The woman only gave an OK sign and shouted commands through her megaphone. But the heavy rain makes it difficult to understand them. Also, the ground had already become muddy and made walking without slipping really difficult. But step by step, the area directly around the proximity of the tree became more and more empty.
Marco saw that the policeman in charge here beckoned him. With quick steps, he set off, when suddenly he stumbled on a root that was still sticking out of the ground a little further away from the tree, then slithered through the mud for a few meters before he fell down roughly. At the exact moment when he slammed into the ground, he heard a terrible boom, followed by several loud bangs—seemingly countless lightning bolts struck the old tree one after the other. Still woozy from the fall, Marco could barely perceive the screams and warnings shot in his direction. However, another thunderclap with another unpleasant crack set all alarm bells off in Marco's head. He still managed to turn his body toward the source of the noise, only to realize with horror what was now coming his way.
"I knew it was going to be a shitty day," Marco muttered before the broken tree crushed him with its full weight. The gruesome crunching sound and the amount of blood will long be remembered by those on the scene. To Marco's relief, he had at least not forgotten to turn off his stove or delete his Internet history.
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[System start...]
[User *****291 found.]
[Checking permission to enter the reincarnation cycle...access granted.]
What's happening?
[Calculating positive Karma...
Process finished.
2000+ K-Points accumulated.]
Oh, nice? thought Marco.
[Explanation. User *****291, you will receive a corresponding reincarnation depending on the number of your remaining K-Points after calculating your negative Karma. If it falls to 0 after the final calculation, your soul will be dissolved and used as nourishment for new ones.]
W-What?
[Calculating negative Karma...
-20; you often forgot to say 'sorry' after a sneeze.
Really? For that?
-180; using the wrong way to hang your toilet paper.
I never even had something to hang it on...
-100; neglecting oral hygiene.
Okay, stop! I brushed my teeth two times a day and even used mouthwash.
-100; not sneezing into your elbow.
I was alone at home.
-100; constantly interrupting the system.
...
-200; overwatering your plants.
Well, about that...
-200; not giving your plants enough water.
I'm not good with plants, okay?
-200; not giving your plants water at all.
It was a god damn cactus! I thought it could live a long time without any! Ahhh, you're so mean!
-200; killing over 40 plants.
I'll never forget Stachli. Rest in peace, my friend.
-200; having plants at all, you genocidal bastard.
Why are you even taking this personally? I realized far too late that I didn't have a green but a black thumb.
Is that all? There shouldn't be—
-499; sully one of the oldest living trees with your blood. Disappointed. You have really sick hobbies.
What the fuck?! It crushed me! I'm here—wherever that is—because it killed me. Why am I the sick one? This must be a bad dream! I'm still asleep at home and just have a nightmare about my death and a system that somehow has a personal vendetta against me. Yeah, that must be it! Ok, Marco, you need to wake up.
But he didn't.
You accumulated 1999 negative Karma. Calculate. You have 1 K-point left.]
[Congratulations, User Black Thumb, you have unfortunately been admitted to reincarnation! Due to your outstanding score and tendency to respect and love plants, the system will now assign you a suitable rebirth. In this process, you will lose all memories of your talent [Jurisprudence]—not that it will be of any use to you.]
[Congratuations, you will be reincarnated into the world **** as a Weeping Willow Tree Seed(♀).]
Wait a second! What do you mean by that? A Seed?! And why is there a female Sym—
But before Marco could think anything else, his mind went blank.
> Thanks for reading!