The Weather Device

It was raining again. Again. As if it ever stopped on this God-forsaken planet. Jack’s alarm went off with a ring-ding-bing.
“Totally unnecessary,” Jack muttered as he lay, quite awake, on his bed. On his roof he could hear the PLINK-PLINK-PLINK which had kept him up for yet another night. But it was not a problem today. Today was the first day that Jack was happy since he landed. Happy? Perhaps giddy is the better word. “Rain, rain, go away, come again another day, little Jackie wants to play, rain, rain go away.” Yes, he had been singing that one for some time. Today, however, he knew that this prayer may be answered. For today, it would be ready.
As Jack rolled out of bed, he could not help but glance at the diploma framed on his wall. Electrical engineering. Oxford, summa cum laude. The valedictorian of the class of 2156. As he started to look away, the chipped British accent of a professor of his played in his head.
“The theory is plausible; of course 100 years ago people would have called me crazy for saying so. But thanks to the developments from Dr. Pradesh, a machine that can control entire ecosystems, that is to say, a weather device, can potentially be built. But there is a good reason for the Federation to have banned it. It looks good on paper, stop a tornado here, end a drought there- but we have found that man is incapable of the proper planning necessary to drive an ecosystem. It is far trickier than one would think. In fact, such a device would almost certainly lead to the destruction, rather than salvation, of such an ecosystem.”
But he had to try. The rain, the horrid, torrential rain was there from the beginning. It simply would not stop, it never stopped. The colonists did not know exactly what they were in for when they landed; in fact, there was only an 80% chance that the planet would be habitable, based on long analysis of fuzzy, long distance telescope photographs detailing its location in space and distance from the sun. It was a risk that Jack was willing to take; he practically jumped at the chance to be the chief engineer of the mission. And why would they not choose him? He was the most promising young engineer of his time. Valedictorian from Oxford, for heaven’s sake! Better engineers were too old or too afraid, but Jack wanted his name in the history books.
Well, it certainly would be. The last survivor of a doomed colony. A colony that was killed by too much of a good thing. Rain flooded the plains. Crops were drowned. Nothing grew. There was nothing at all to eat. One by one, the colonists starved or went mad. Chinese water torture. It gets to you.
Jack was tenacious. He had always been a survivor. Images flashed through his mind of being able to count the ribs of the children of his colony, while they were singing “Rain, rain, go away, come again another day” in a horrifying sing-song. The sound of his fiancé’s maddened screaming “STOP THE RAIN! STOP THE RAIN! OH GOD MAKE IT STOP!” rang through his head.
Resilient, that was the word. He fought his way tooth and nail. Born in a London slum, end up with a full scholarship to Oxford. Good show. He was not one to starve to death, though he admittedly did feel hungry. He was also not one to go mad. A little rain, make him, the finest engineer of his day, go mad? Ha!
But he was hungry. No time to think about that now. It was almost ready. One more screw to turn, one more wire to strip, one more button to press.
He pressed it.
Jack waited, with baited breath, waited to see if the large beam of radioactive energy which blasted from its antenna would have the desired affect.
Outside he could hear the PLINK-PLINK-PLINK. Still raining! Still raining! Always raining! Never ceasing! PLINK! PLINK! PLINK! No hope for farming, no hope for silence, no hope for a nice long walk through a meadow, with the sun shining on his back. No hope at all.
“Damn you!” Jack screamed at the very top of his lungs, “Damn you! I HATE YOU!” He took his hammer in his hand and smashed the device, smashed and smashed until it was nothing more than an unrecognizable jumble of nuts, wires, and screws. “Damn you,” he silently sobbed to himself. A failure. That was what he was. All his training, all his promise, all his will. And in the end, nothing but an abysmal failure.
“If starvation won’t get to me, the rain certainly will. And I have no intention of going mad. No, no intention of going mad at all!”
He took out a long, sharp knife. The kind of knife that should have been used to carve up the tomatoes that never grew. After a few moments hesitation, he plunged it into his body. Unfortunately for him, he was an engineer by training, and knew nothing of human anatomy. He stabbed himself in just the wrong place, and fell to the floor. He was hoping for a gush of blood. All he could see was a crimson trickle. But the pain! It was simply unbearable. And there he lay, writhing on the ground, losing blood ever so slowly, and completely unable to stop it.
Meanwhile, the radioactive energy continued its journey upward to the clouds. The PLINK-PLINK-PLINK on Jack’s rooftop slowed to a plink-plink-plink-plink-plink. The rain, the torrential, unceasing rain, stopped.
“Damn you,” whispered Jack, as he slowly closed his eyes and wept.