Future Narrative #9 - Carbon Neutral Pods
In 2022, Travel tech for Scotland was invited to the Blue Earth Summit to undertake a tourism futures workshop with Travel Tech community member Slow Adventures. This story came from an exploration of future of travel with conference attendees, with a particular focus on reducing the climate impact of travel. In this story, a young family considers how to budget both carbon and money, and still take a much needed trip together, bringing the climate crisis and a turn to local tourism to the conversation in Dundee in 2030.
Illustrated by Issey Medd and written by Máire Ryan.
Carbon Neutral Pods - Illustrated by Issey Medd
Saturday hung heavy in the Drinkwater household. Upstairs, Teresa Drinkwater (10) stared listlessly out of the window, her pen poised but never quite reaching the blank piece of paper it was intended for. In the back room, Mr. Drinkwater (37) was half-heartedly tinkering with a guitar: sort of tuning it but also somehow losing tune with each agitation of a peg. Mrs. Drinkwater (38) was out in the shed, officially “painting”, but unofficially scrolling her news feed, taking in the missives of international doom and gloom with a vacant gaze. Although arguably the day outside was pleasant, there was a malaise surrounding the Drinkwater abode which was impervious to clear skies. The Drinkwaters were suffering from a self-imposed landlock which had escalated to house arrest in recent months.
Once brave and curious flaneurs of other worlds, they found themselves confined to their two-bedroom semi-detached house in Dundee. In their ignorant youth (and Teresa’s, too) they had casually darted between European metropolises, couch-surfing (pre-Teresa), hotel-hopping later on, imbibing culture like oxygen, getting lost in cramped marketplaces and spending hours strolling up hillsides to access the vistas of the cities had they conquered. As Teresa napped in her buggy, legs sprawled and a small, oddly contented frown on her sleeping face, her parents would order small plates with a jug of wine. They picked, sipped and laughed throughout these holidays, until the climate decided to inform them that there was absolutely nothing to laugh about.
In an age of soaring carbon emissions, where the decline of the planet became increasingly prescient and then entirely unavoidable, the Drinkwaters–very keen to leave Teresa with a habitable world to thrive in–decided to halt their expeditions. Mr. Drinkwater had made the huge mistake of using one of those footprint calculating apps that were becoming increasingly popular: the results had mortified the couple. They could not, in good faith, anticipate another jaunt. Their steps became heavy, bogged down by the fossil-fuelled tread they had once so casually asserted throughout the continent. They agreed that, until they had neutralised their debt, they would no longer sojourn in Europe. The problem was, their international trips had rendered them a little lazy. Since each city was a buffet of delights, the Drinkwaters had never really learned to be resourceful. Sure, they explored, but each location seemed keen to work for them: they often bragged that they never needed guidebooks. The notion of a domestic trip confounded them: where would they even begin? Where, in Britain, would be as enriching as somewhere abroad?
It took the D-string snapping on Mr. Drinkwater’s overworked guitar to break the mournful reverie of the household. Out in the shed, Mrs. Drinkwater heard the discordant twang (and resulting expletives), and decided to abandon “painting” in order to brew up for the family. Meeting in the kitchen, the parents exchanged glances of annoyance, playing chicken to see who would share their thoughts first (it was Mr. Drinkwater, who tripped over the dustpan and brush, who broke). The resultant (angrily whispered) conversation amounted to an airing of their incarceration frustration: both parties felt crushingly trapped in this current iteration of their life. Mrs. Drinkwater, a multi-medium artist, was creatively stifled by her shed. Mr. Drinkwater, a born showman, craved a new audience. Equally concerning: they’d noticed Teresa spending more and more time on the internet. She used to have to be called in from the fields for dinner; now she was invariably cloistered in her bedroom. Was she lazy, or was she bored? Both?
The cause for concern being hissed about by the adults in the kitchen was, at that very moment, listening in. Teresa felt that strange sort of heart-skipping that happens when you know people are talking about you. Cycling through feelings of betrayal, resentment and sadness, Teresa landed on grim agency: if her parents were just going to slump around complaining, well, she’d have to be the mature one here. Closing down the video tab of her browser (cuuuuuutest fluffiest cats ever ahhhh!!!!), she performed a new, more solution-oriented search. Using the keywords environment + friendly + Britain + holiday revealed a plethora of sites all vying for her attention. Teresa rolled her eyes, marvelling at how she, “only a child”, could solve the family’s problems with one single search, while the “adults” bickered over their beverages.
Roughly five minutes later, courtesy of a smart and accessible programme designed to simplify domestic travel, Teresa interrupted the sotto voce debate still ongoing by pertly placing a printout on the kitchen island. The Drinkwaters gathered around to peruse: a fully formulated, carbon-neutral trip to Wales was heralded as “the perfect excuse to leave the house”. Mr. Drinkwater–somewhat sceptical and (admittedly) somewhat undermined by his daughter’s newfound problem-solving capabilities–questioned the venture thoroughly, calling the provider to give them a grilling:
We’d still have to travel there, we’re still not carbon-neutral. And we’re not exactly loaded, you know.
There’s a government-subsidised green rail service: it’s quick, cheap, and environmentally clean. We adapt your travel options to your carbon quota: I can see you’ll qualify for the fast-track. From your location, there are direct transport links to ensure your energy efficiency from the minute you lock your front door.
Yeah, well, what about when we’re actually there? How are we going to get around?
We operate Carbon Neutral Pods. They’re like eco-taxis: robots drive them and they run on electricity. You can rent one as part of the travel subscription: you simply plug in your route and the system devises the best possible journey.
OK, well. Wales, though. What’s even in Wales?
Oh, just lush landscapes, deep-rooted traditions, ancient myths, thriving pubs, gourmet restaurants, coastlines, mountains, castles. Are you telling me you’ve never been?
All this went on under the watchful eyes of Mrs. Drinkwater (who was a “yes” from the minute the printout had been revealed) and Teresa (who was glaring at her incredibly embarrassing father as he lost his battle with the benevolent agent). He put up a sustained, if not effective, fight but it was only two weeks later that the Drinkwaters were bound for Wales.
From static to active: a real culture shock indeed for the family. Teresa found herself awed at the vistas she encountered at every turn; bolstered by the friendly goodwill of the communities the family entered. She felt her mind expanding, like a goldfish moved from fishbowl to lake. She was getting taller too, she was sure of it. Masses of delicious fare offered by sustainable vendors was ensuring the hunger born of exploration was always satisfied. Mrs. Drinkwater, with her artistic flair, was invited by the programme to hold impromptu workshops where she taught local children to express themselves through a variety of artistic methods. The effect this had on her own art was profound: in fostering creativity in others, inspiration returned. Mr. Drinkwater who, although still somewhat sulky as they set off, had been desperate to play live music again, found this through busking: he began playing in town squares at each leg of their journey. This would often lead to an invitation to play at a local venue: audiences found his soaring melodies resonated deeply with the spirit of each locale. He was in his element.
The highlight of all highlights was partaking in a traditional Welsh festival, the International Eisteddfod in Llangollen. On a hazy July morning, the family ventured forth to the venue, and found themselves quickly (and joyfully) lost in the rhythm of traditional dances, marvelling at the vibrancy of the costumes the locals proudly pageanted. As each Drinkwater moved to the rhythms that blasted out of hidden speakers, they were unrecognisable from their home-ridden counterparts of just three weeks prior. Colour in their cheeks, light in their eyes, they had finally fought off the lethargic quagmire that had inhibited their growth. They would return home as victors: having embraced sustainable travel, rather than permitted it to become a limitation to them. Rather, their trip had been a pioneering adventure in building cultural bridges, fostering domestic pride, and–most importantly–respecting the delicate balance of the planet. They proudly joined the masses who were, increasingly, being liberated from the manacles of their carbon footprints by pursuing cleaner ways to pay homage to the Isles, in all of their splendour.
Provocation Questions
Have you begun to see a shift in closer-to-home travel?
Do you think this might take hold as a trend, and if so, what would need to happen to encourage it?