Afleveringen
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Jackâs thirst for the interesting and the unusual was never quenched, and since he was so good at making stuff up he decided to put his talents to good use and become a professional liar. A fiction writer, that is. He flirted with journalism for a little bit, but after his own unpalatable experience with revelations and consequences, he decided that this field really wasnât for him. He did some travel, learned a lot from his journeys, and a few years later, when he had the means, just to put the frustrations of his youth behind him, he bought a piece of land and planted a dome on it, which became his retreat and occasional writing studio. Of course people thought that was odd, but then again, writers get a pass on being eccentric.
The jolly librarian moved heaven and earth to start a council for ecological preservation and have the plant declared a protected species. She used up all the good will and favor she had with the city hall to designate the wild domes area a nature preserve, and got the funds to maintain and expand the zone, which had grown significantly larger over time, with the promise that revenue from the stream of tourists would benefit the city as a whole.
Diane outgrew her youthful romantic drama, went to college and became an attorney. She rented a little space downtown, quite close to the science lab, actually, and put up her shingle there. She had quite a successful practice, to the pride and joy of her parents, who never ceased bragging about it.
Stacey joined the Navy, to the shock of her friends and acquaintances, who had always pictured her as a little live Barbie. She advanced through the ranks with honors and became a rear admiral. The only qualms Tom and Carol had with a career like that was that, for obvious reasons, it took her quite far from home, but they resigned themselves to see her over the holidays and visit whenever they could. Tom liked to joke that their daughter had turned him and his wife into real globetrotters, now in their old age.
As far as he was concerned, he worked at the factory/plant habitat/petal foundry until his mid sixties when he retired from it, just as he expected, comfortable enough to enjoy his golden years with Carol and tackle a few projects he had put off over the years, for lack of time.
Little Teddy was a bit of a troublemaker all throughout school, it seems that personality reveals itself early and his endless temper tantrums werenât just the terrible twos. His father decided to guide him towards athletics, thinking that strenuous physical effort might burn off some of that extraneous energy. Teddy wavered between sports and several other fields, started college a couple of times and then, through a weird confluence of circumstances, got to try photography and loved it. He became a traveling photojournalist and contributed to a few reputable periodicals that Carol never failed to display on the coffee table, for all the guests to see.
The malt shop owner kept tending store way past her retirement age, out of concern that whoever it was that took over from her wouldnât have the curiosity and communication skills to keep it the hub of news and social activity in town. She finally found a young apprentice, whom she taught her craft and entrusted with the rich history of the place, and she handed him the keys to the store, her heart finally at peace.
Mr. Feldman continued teaching at Jack and Richardâs school for many decades, guiding generation after generation of children through the wonders of science and the challenges of science fairs. He ended up teaching Dianeâs children, too. All three of them.
Mrs. Jenkins went on spearheading her efforts to keep reality from interfering with the way she thought life should be, and continued being an outspoken advocate for the restoration of good old fashioned values. She had a small but faithful following of devotees.
Richard went to college to study mechanical engineering. He put together a few of his old projects, together with a few theoretical studies, presented them to the scientific committee and received a research grant to develop biologically based machines. Grace to his first successful attempts, the grant became permanent, and he funneled all of his efforts into becoming one of the pioneers of this new field. Over a decade, he set up the infrastructure for a department of bio-mechanics inside the school of engineering, department which he ended up running. He never stopped advocating for the ethical treatment of bio-based mechanical composites, and he treasured as the most important accomplishment of his life the fact that he managed to convince the scientific community to qualify them as life.
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Naturally, the librarian told the boysâ parents and teachers the good news that Richard and Jack had singlehandedly made the second dome happen, very excited about the spirit of adventure the two had displayed and praising the innovative approach they took to create something so extraordinary. To her great surprise, but not Richard and Jackâs, who wished they could have moved to a parallel universe where people didnât disapprove of the plant and anyone associated with it, the boyâs parents didnât take lightly to the news that their son, whom they trusted to know what he was allowed to do and what he wasnât and who was raised to never displease his elders in the slightest, was the main protagonist in the propagation of something they considered the annihilation of their values and way of life. Nothing, not the increased factory output, not the new foundry, not the plethora of new devices that clearly had made her life easier would ever convince Carol that the plant wasnât evil, and by association, she considered anybody who interacted with it evil too. The fact that her son was one of âthose peopleâ was a serious blow to her maternal fulfillment, and something she mourned going forward, making sure her grief weighed down heavier than a tombstone on the hearts of the other family members.
Tom was conflicted about the plant, since he kind of liked the fact that he didnât have to break his back to provide and the future looked just a little safer and brighter than before, but then again, in his entire marriage he did everything in his power not to displease his wife, so he did what was expected of him and had a stern conversation with their son. That conversation was the last he and Richard had, because from that day forward he decided to give his son the silent treatment.
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Zijn er afleveringen die ontbreken?
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âOf all the crazy things you ever came up with, Jack, I, for once, canât believe youâre making me do this!â Richard said, exhausted and sweating profusely in the unforgiving sunshine, as he tried to force his shovel through the obstinate dirt. They had been at it since the first rays of dawn, about five hours or so ago, and the meager area they had managed to till got lost in the vastness of land yet to be confronted.
âShut up and dig, Snake, we only have a week to make this valley of tears look planted,â Jack mumbled through his teeth, just as exhausted as his friend and in a vile mood.
âWhat do you think people assume when they see us walk into the desert with a heavy bag and shovels?â Richard asked, panting from the effort but not slowing down the pace.
âWhat did you want us to carry our supplies in? Glass jars?â Jack asked.
âIâm just saying,â Richard gasped, struggling to dislodge a large rock from the middle of the border he was trying to define, a place from which the cursed thing refused to budge. âYou know, if our parents wanted to devise a punishment for our creative truth telling, this would probably be it!â
âDonât mess with karma, dude!â Jack said philosophically, suddenly distracted by the fact that digging got a lot easier than it had been so far, and upon further examination he noticed he was shoveling through soft silt. âThis medium is completely worthless!â he cussed under his breath.
âJust mix it in with clay, Iâm sure itâll be fine!â Richard suggested, wiping his brow.
âAnd where do I get the clay?â Jack asked, and then, following Richardâs unspoken directions, retorted. âSince when are you the expert in plantings?â
âSince you made me study them. Hey!â Richard suddenly remembered. âWhy is karma punishing me? It was your idea!â
âYou unleashed Brenda upon plant land,â Jack justified himself.
âYou made us break into the lab!â Richard protested.
âYou sneaked into the factory and didnât tell anybody about the plant!â Jack said.
Richard pondered it for a bit, then shrugged.
âStill,â he said. âHarsh!â
âSo, what are we planting,â Jack asked, âbefore I collapse of heat exhaustion?â
âSucculents,â Richard said. âFrom over there,â he pointed somewhere in the distance, where one of the springs had created a little oasis of greenery.
âOh, no, thatâs great,â Jack kvetched, âas long as we donât have to make several half mile trips to get them!â
âWould you rather have carried them from town?â Richard replied. âBesides, theyâre native to this area, if we have one chance in a million to keep something growing here, theyâre it,â he frowned.
âYou know?â Jack said, filling the bag with clay to amend the silty soil. âMaybe this was not the best idea in the world.â
âNow youâre telling me!??â Richard burst with annoyance. He looked towards the dome and got instantly aggravated. âThat stupid plant made a rain forest in the middle of this desert and we canât even grow cacti!â
âMaybe we should have started by building a dome,â Jack commented sarcastically.
âThatâs it!â Richard threw in the shovel. âIâm done! Iâm not dying in this damned place! Iâm going home!â he exclaimed, and then he felt both guilty and ridiculous about the protest and he headed towards the oasis in the distance to grab some plants.
âHey!â Jack yelled from behind him. âWhat about the water source?â
âDetails will take care of themselves, Jack! Look at the big picture!â Richard responded without turning around, suddenly irritated again.
The next day they stopped the planting to score a little watercourse through the petrified dirt and bring a shy trickle from the dome to the site. One couldnât tell whether it was luck or science that made it so that the dome was uphill from the planting site and not too far from it, either, and the boys were, frankly, too tired for this sort of philosophical musings.
The environmental recovery area didnât feature tree saplings, to Carolâs unspoken disappointment. Despite the limitations of climate and location, she had always envisioned the boysâ project as a new born evergreen forest. Carol didnât show her lack of enthusiasm, and as always she encouraged her son to continue, a little confused about his sudden shift in interest from mechanics to botany and trying to convince herself that all of his work was for a good cause.
The planted acre had served its purpose, which was mainly to be anything other than the brimstone laden dome. There was no expectation on anyoneâs part that it would be a smashing success. The plants didnât prosper by any stretch of the imagination, but they didnât die either, holding on for dear life under the heartless sun. Both spiky and succulents hesitated for quite a while, unsure whether to adjust to their new home or not, but nobody was the wiser about that, because their thick and shiny foliage looked frozen in time, hiding the drama underneath their skin.
âHave you ever thought about all the things weâve done lately, all because of this blessed plant, dude?â Jack asked Richard later, while they were trying to comfort their aching bodies with their usual vanilla floats at the malt shop. âI donât suppose you ever imagined being involved in propagating cacti.â
âOf course not. Those things are vicious!â Richard remembered with a frown. His hands were still stinging from the pricks and his face had acquired a healthy tan from being out in the sunshine all day. He pondered for a while, and then said. âCome to think of it, I never took any interest in plants, I always found them kind of boring.â
âExcept one,â Jack laughed.
âYeah,â Richard said, smiling. âIn a way, I felt like I owed the plant one. You know, for Brenda.â
âDo you realize how lucky we are?â Jack said. âMost people spend entire lifetimes without ever encountering something so extraordinary. We are like the first ones who saw the light bulb.â
âWorth every fib, no doubt!â Richard agreed.
âNot everybody seems to agree with that,â Jack offered, after a brief pause. âAs far as some of my momâs colleagues are concerned, this situation is a nightmare, but it will surely pass, because even if life has become frightening and completely out of control, any moment now somebody will find a way to kill that stupid plant and return existence to normal, whatever that means. Quite a spectacular display of denial, especially coming from a profession specifically trained to expose and dismantle it. Even if somebody managed to kill that plant, you canât unknow its existence, at least I canât,â he said, looking down, kind of sad.
âWhy would you want to?â Richard said, obstinately.
âI guess itâs in the human nature to fear anything you havenât encountered before,â Jack said. âHeck, even I am reluctant to interact with your Brenda, even though I know you made it,â he said, lowering his voice. âThat thing looks terrifying, dude! You have to do something about that.â
âMy parents just like to pretend that the plant doesnât exist,â Richard pointed out. âMy sisters wouldnât care if it grew out of their own heads, as long as it doesnât interfere with their social agenda, and little Teddy, well, weâre not supposed to talk about the plant in front of little Teddy, because it gives him night terrors. It seems to be some sort of scary monster to him.â
âWhat about you?â Jack asked him directly, making him recoil from the unexpected question.
âWhat do you mean, me?â he asked.
âWhat comes to your mind when you think of the plant?â Jack eyes gleamed with curiosity, and Richard realized this was a question that preoccupied his friend for a long time.
He didnât respond, trying to find the best explanation.
âDo you remember when we went to the zoo for the first time and fed a giraffe? It was so unbelievably tall, you donât realize how large it really is until youâre really close. I was kind of scared of it, but excited, too, and I knew it was a giraffe, because we all saw pictures of them in our kindergarten books. This plant is just like the giraffe, only without any prior warning. I look at it, I touch it and feel that itâs hot, and still have trouble believing itâs real half the time.â
âI thought as much,â Jack said softly.
âWhy?â Richard asked.
âBrenda. You wouldnât have taken Brenda to the factory otherwise, at least not the you that I knew.â Jack replied. âYou might have trouble coming to terms with the fact that itâs all real, dude, but I assure you that it is.â
âItâs not that I donât like it, itâs justâŠsnow in July. Every fiber in your body tells you that it shouldnât be there and you question whether your senses deceive you, but itâs not something thatâs out of the realm of possibility. In fact, it even happened. Itâs a very rare occurrence, but certainly not impossible.â
âIt makes you uneasy,â Jack noticed.
âItâs the speed, it changes so fast! Last year it was a strange sprout that grew where it shouldnât have and now it has itâs own microcosm. It improved on my design, Jack!â he complained to his friend. âAnd itâs only a plant!â
âArenât you the one who always says that biology is infinitely more complex than any machine man can design? The pan flutes just needed to protect themselves, and they grew shells, itâs not that unusual in the natural world.â
âFor a living thing it isnât! The pan flutes werenât living things when I released them into the dome, and now they are.â
Jack shrugged, seemingly unaffected by the status of the pan flutes.
âHow are you so calm?â Richard asked. âThis doesnât disturb you at all?â
âOf course it does, itâs justâŠI like interesting things. The plant is interesting,â Jack smiled.
In all the commotion associated with their strange activities, the boys completely forgot about the librarian and her fondness for the pan flutes. In all fairness, they didnât give a second thought to her trips to the hot springs and were completely shocked when they almost ran into her as she exited the dome.
âOh, what a surprise, boys?â she said, even more shocked than they were. âWhat are you doing here? Oh, wait, thatâs right, your little environmental project. How is it going?â she said, cocking her head to see the fledgling garden over their shoulders. âComing along, I see. Can I take a peek?â she asked, rushing down the hill without waiting for an answer.
Jack and Richard hurried behind her, relieved that they didnât have to justify their presence there and running through things to point to and explain in their heads, but the librarian gave the xeric garden a quick tour and stopped to let the two in on a topic that really preoccupied her at the time.
âYou know what I was thinking?â she said, completely oblivious to the fact that her water shoes, as well as a good part of her clothing, were covered in smelly muck. âHow unfortunate that the plant happened to develop into this particular pool, if it werenât for the smell, the inside of that dome would be paradise on earth. So, Iâve been thinking,â she said, looking around to make sure nobody else could hear her, âwhat if we help it along, in one of those other pools, one that doesnât smell. Please donât tell on me, but I managed to cut a piece of stem and planted it in that pond over there, Iâm hoping it takes root,â she smiled proudly.
âItâs not going to root without metal!â Richard blurted before Jack had a chance to stop him.
âI kind of thought it was you,â the librarian kept smiling. Jack sighed in despair. âWhat a wonderful job you did with this dome, now thatâs a real environmental wonder, right there!â
âActually,â Jack sighed again, âwe didnât do that much, just planted the cutting with some scrap metal, the plant did the rest.â
âYeah, thatâs what I heard,â the librarian said. âIt looks like the one at the factory did kind of the same thing. By the way, where did you get the cutting?â she asked, cracking up with laughter, watching the two squirm to make something up. âThatâs ok, donât answer that,â she said kindheartedly. âOne thing bothers me, though. I understand the wildlife, and the cross breeding, but where did the little metal bugs come from?â she looked at Richard and Jack, who at the time were carefully examining the multicolored thread on their t-shirts. âNo matter,â she said. âThat dome the plant made, smell or no, it is a dream come true for a life scientist. I must confess that was a passion of mine in my youth, but I never had the opportunity to dedicate myself to it, at least not until now. â
The boys looked at each other.
âI bet if we plant this in another pool it will create a completely different environment, these domes are like angels, each one of them is a species in and of itself.â
The boys fumbled around, uncomfortable, trying to find a way to extricate themselves from the situation.
âYou have been inside, right?â the librarian said. âPlease tell me you have been inside!â
Richard nodded in agreement.
âIsnât it something? Well, I have good news for you. Today I thought I saw a flying metal bug. How they keep their balance in flight with those tubes on their backs is beyond me!â the librarian said.
âHow?â Richard asked, flabbergasted. âDid they grow wings?â
âNo,â the librarian tried to remember. âIt looks more like they are hovering. By the way, if youâre going inside the dome, donât try to collect any plants or insects. It seems to be very protective of its components,â she mentioned as she was leaving. âNice garden, you might want to try some sedums.â
Richard and Jack watched her leave, wondering how exactly did she find that out, and what specimens was she trying to collect, and between the fearsome smell, the digging out in the middle of the desert, the strange encounter with the librarian, Carolâs unreasonable hope for a coniferous forest and the constantly changing environment inside the dome, their minds got drained of all thought and feeling like a wrung cloth.
âWell, at least we donât have to worry about her telling our parents,â Richard commented as he saw her disappear behind the bend.
âWhat in the world would make you think that?â Jack brought him back to reality. âIn fact, thatâs probably the first thing she is going to do. Oh, well, it was bound to happen sooner or later, we had a good run,â he resigned himself to fate.
âDonât you just wish we were her? She doesnât have to make stuff up to get inside the dome!â Richard coveted bitterly.
âYeah, but she canât fit through the fence,â Jack smiled, reminding his friend of the advantages of not being a grown-up yet.
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The pan flutes played second fiddle for the time being, with Jack and Richard involved in the construction of a new Brenda and filling up the forms required to enroll it into the science fair. All the while, Richardâs parents and sisters walked around him on eggshells, making sure he wasnât disturbed, bringing him his favorite foods and providing any assistance he happened to need.
The new Brenda was finished, packed and shipped, in a wave of anticipation and enthusiasm. This was the third Brenda already, if one didnât count the oldest prototype, and it had become more and more sophisticated, since Richard felt the need to add features with every iteration.
The one thing that didnât change was the deviceâs distinctive jellyfish configuration, and every time he thought about that, Richard was grateful that the plant swallowed Brenda One, who would have been a dead give-away of their trespassing and meddling in things that didnât concern them. He sometimes thought about his secret weekend universe, the one where everything was in its place, the one he didnât have to share with anyone, and he felt guilty about wanting to keep this little mechanical kingdom of his from Jack, who seemed to love it as much as he did.
Things used to be so much simpler back then, before the Brendas and the pan flutes, even though he had to admit the aforementioned gadgets were running circles around anything else Richard had built. As far as the pan flutes were concerned, if there is one truth to nature, it is that it abhors pointlessness, so the plant had found an use for the creepy little buggers: they organized themselves into some sort of beehive, inside which they melted the blossoms the plant was blooming especially for them into a little metallic maze where they retreated at night. The design of the metal structure was unbelievably intricate, but in the way nature designs, not man, no two compartments alike, but all bearing a resemblance that didnât leave any room for doubt that they served the same purpose. It was wild, and intentional at the same time, and Richard couldnât help but be in awe of the ingenuity of the little creatures.
Of course, because they were not based in biology, like Brenda, but pure mechanical devices, the pan flutes didnât mind the high temperatures the plant generated when it didnât have to protect living things, but even so, he had to wonder how they managed to generate enough energy to melt steel, and since Richard didnât see how they could heat up to a few thousand Kelvins without melting themselves, he assumed they must have incorporated the plantâs electrolytic properties and were molding the metal by putting it in flux.
They hummed to each other, to point out the good locations to pick falling blossoms, and worked so diligently at tidying up their metal sculpture of a home they seemed to have been designed specifically for this purpose. The mystery was solved a few hours later, when Richard noticed a real beehive hanging from an end vine close to the top of the dome.
âItâs amazing!â Jack exclaimed. âThis thing assimilates the properties of everything it comes in contact with! I canât believe it infused the pan flutes with bee behavior!â
âWe really need to go inside the dome, Jack!â Richard said, amazed at the pan flutesâ transformation.
âDid you hear a single word I said?â Jack shook him. âThis thing adopts the qualities of everything that goes inside it! At best weâre going to have obsessive pan flutes that like to build little machines, at worst weâre going to build ourselves an anthill and insist on living inside it!â
âOr a burrow,â Richard said, following the logic. âIt would make more sense, size wise.â He stopped for a second, to contemplate the possibility. âI hope I donât inherit the behaviors of a water rodent, Iâd rather not get inside that swamp, it really stinks!â
He managed to convince Jack, though, after constantly arguing his point, and reminding him a million times that the librarian seemed to have made it out ok.
âI wonder,â Jack postulated, âif there isnât a little tree frog in there, chasing pan flutes and wearing rain boots!â
âOnly one way to find out,â Richard smiled.
âBut I can smell the swamp from here,â Jack complained with a disgusted look on his face. âIâm sure getting closer is not going to make it better,â he used the last argument in his arsenal.
âYou know weâre going, right?â Richard ended the debate.
âUnfortunately,â Jack sighed.
The next weekend they started out bright and early, donning rain clogs on a sunny morning and grunting under the weight of the bags they carried. Richard wanted to make sure they had plenty of means to record and immortalize whatever they found inside the dome, and pads of paper to jot down a few notes if they had to. Between those, the bottles of water, the snacks and a change of clothes the bags were heavier than lead.
âAt least itâs not scrap metal,â Jack mumbled under his breath.
âWeâre almost there,â Richard picked up the pace, to reach the dome that was already visible as they passed the bend.
Richard didnât wait for Jack, he dropped his bag and headed straight inside the dome, seemingly unaffected by the dreadful odor. Jack could see him walk around, careful as if stepping on eggshells, his countenance warped by the strange refraction through the uneven glass.
âYou have to come in, Jack!â Richard said. âThis is amazing!â
Jack hesitated at the natural entrance of the dome, through which he could already see a little self-contained world that was too beautiful for the wretched smell it exuded. The stench of the swamp blended with the powerful fragrances of several water plants, and amplified by the heat and humidity was almost impossible to bear, but this smelly greenhouse universe was teaming with life. A swarm of blue and brown butterflies fluttered overhead, reigning over a land of water dwelling creatures, and the chirping of the tree frogs, mixed with the songs of the birds and the weird harmonic tones of the pan flutes drowned the noises coming from outside. Jack gathered the courage to step into this other world, one that had its own sounds, and its own surreal images, and, unfortunately, its own smell. Distracted by his strange surroundings, he stepped into the shallow water and was startled by the soft squish his clogs made in the wet swamp grass.
âI guess it was a good idea to wear the clogs, right?â Richard said, with a beaming smile.
âThis place is awesome!â Jack couldnât help exclaiming. âGranted, the smell can choke a horse, but still awesome!â he looked around, amazed. âIs that a tree?â he frowned to make sure his eyes didnât deceive him.
About half of the way up to the top of the dome, a tree had taken root on a thick branch of the vine. The roots didnât seem to fit inside the vine altogether, and were sticking out through the bottom, like those of a pot bound house plant.
âI guess one of the water rats brought in an acorn,â Richard explained, naturally.
âYou think it would let us climb to the top?â Jack asked, suddenly very interested, more of the plant than of his friend. âI wonder what else is up there?â
âDidnât you say it wasnât safe to come in here? Now you want to go even deeper?â
Richard protested, but his friend had already started climbing the thick vine, whose metal based shell was cooling down a path through scorching foliage, trying to keep up with him. Jack disappeared from sight, his presence still made manifest by a shuffling of leaves. The birds flew out of his way, dumping a scattering of hot blossoms on top of Richardâs head.
âJack!â the latter yelled, rushing for cover. The pan flutes chimed in harmony, matching the tone of his voice.
âUp here!â Jack said, sticking his head out of the foliage. He was almost at the top of the dome, where the smaller, more flexible vines gave in visibly under his weight. âCome on, dude! Donât chicken out on me now, you donât know what youâre missing! I found a nest with eggs,â Jack laughed at him.
âWhat kind of eggs?â Richard asked.
âI donât know, theyâre purple,â Jack answered.
âThere are no purple eggs!â Richard corrected him.
âMaybe the pan flutes laid them,â Jack offered generously.
âDonât be a jerk, Jack!â Richard retorted.
âCome up, see for yourself!â Jack said, once again invisible inside a sea of metal leaves.
With every step up the vine, a different view presented itself, the floor, the under story, the canopy, the emergent layer. The foliage color changed from layer to layer, and so did the light levels, the temperatures, the variety of wild life. For all practical purposes, the plant had built its own universe, and its small self-contained world inside the real one was surreal and beautiful.
âI would never leave here!â Richard said, almost against his will.
âAha! Now you know how it does it! I would be surprised if this sneaky plant didnât ooze some sort of pheromone to keep us all smitten! No, seriously, dude! I think we should get out of here if we donât want to start building a nest on that branch,â Jack pointed to a particular portion of the vine, where a nest with three purple eggs could be seen.
âYou werenât joking!â Richard said, surprised.
âI assure you I am a much more serious person than you think, my friend,â Jack protested, thoughtful. âNow, letâs get out of here, and try not to slip on that vine on your way down, it just dawned on me that climbing trees in wet clogs isnât the smartest thing in the world.â
âWhat on earth is that dreadful smell!â Carol acknowledged her sonâs presence way before he made his way through the door. âGood grief! Go! Change! Shower!â she urged Richard, who was only too happy to oblige.
âWhat are you rebuilding there, Ricky,â she questioned, using the despised diminutive for good measure. âI understand those are wetlands, but it reeks like a sewer!â
âThe bacteria in the hot springs,â Richard apologized. âItâs the sulfur.â
âHow can anything survive in that smell!â Carol remembered the stench and instinctively held her breath. âSurely, you donât expect to remediate that! How are things going, anyway? You promised to take us see how your project is progressing, but, judging by that smell, youâre still ways off of showing results.â
Richard didnât answer.
âHow long do you think that project of yours will take?â Carol asked, worried that the horrid miasma was going to grace their home on a regular basis now.
âI really donât know, mom,â Richard mumbled under his voice, and for once in the last year, he was telling the truth.
âWell,â Jack spoke philosophically a few hours later, nursing his vanilla float with a lack of interest that worried Richard, âI guess it wasnât the aliens.â
âI will never take you seriously again,â Richard pouted. He was preparing to offer Jack a shoulder to cry on, only to find himself at the receiving end of his friendâs sharp tongue. âOne of these days, JackâŠâ he said again, and as always he left the affirmation open ended.
âOh, come on! Admit it! I had you!â Jack cracked up.
âSometimes I wish it were the aliens,â Richard mumbled, still upset.
âMe too,â Jack volunteered eagerly. âWell, we canât always get what we want, can we?â
âYou know, my mom asked when she and dad can see the project,â Richard pointed out the obvious flaw in Jackâs plan.
âCan you believe some crazy person ventured inside that dome?â the malt shop owner whispered to one of her customers, in a conspiratory tone.
âI heard it smells like the dickens!â the lady replied. âWhy would anybody want to go in there? And how do you know?â she remembered the obvious question.
âOne of the hot spring bathers walked by the dome and saw foot prints inside,â the malt shop owner said, and then continued in a whisper. âSome say there are weird lights inside it, you can see them through the glass at night,â she shook her head while polishing the teaspoons. âIâm telling you, whoever got in there, theyâre up to no good!â
âWho would go in that God forsaken area at night?â the lady said, sipping her coffee.
âPrecisely,â the malt shop owner replied.
Richard wanted to say something, but Jack signaled to him to keep quiet, so they could listen to the unfolding conversation.
âThey are not like you and I, those people,â she continued, wise and distraught. âHear my words, there are horrible things going on inside that dome, unnatural things. I heard,â she said in a very low tone of voice, approaching her customer to whisper in her ear, âthat if you are close enough, you can sometimes hear strange chanting from inside, and see shadows moving. Iâm telling you, it is a shelter for perdition, what else could it be with that smell?â She turned around to put the teaspoons in the silverware drawer, and then continued, knowingly. âHow can a place that smells like sulfur can be anything but evil?â
âI guess that pretty much covers it,â Jack commented to his friend. âIt appears we ventured intoâŠhhm,âŠuncharted territory, so to speak. I guess it wouldnât be wise to mention this to anybody, you know, brimstone and all.â
Richard nodded, convinced by the pertinent argument, only to remember the little conundrum Jackâs cover story placed them in, with respect to what they were going to tell their parents.
âSo, what should I tell my mother? Please donât make me plant an acre of desert, just to give us a cover!â he looked pleadingly in Jackâs eyes.
âWe, Snake! We are going to plant an acre of desert. Teamwork, my friend,â he smiled encouragingly, patting Richard on the shoulder.
âBut I donât know anything about plants! My mom would make me in two seconds! Sheâs a green thumb!â Richard protested, wretched.
âThen you should hit the books immediately, we donât have a lot of time,â Jack suggested.
âWhere do you want me to get the plants, and the tools,â Richard couldnât believe his ears.
âDetails, my friend!â Jack said.
âWhat about a source of water? You canât grow anything without water, thatâs why stuff didnât grow there in the first place!â Richard continued complaining.
âXeriscape, Jack. You always get lost in the minutia. Get the big picture and the details will take care of themselves,â Jack said, very convinced.
âNo, they wonât!â Richard said. âWhen did the details ever take care of themselves?â
âAnyway,â Jack changed the subject. âGo home, get some sleep, weâre going to need to be well rested. Planting the desert is a lot of work!â
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The rumor about new metallic creatures roaming around in the swamp dome brought agitation and endless discussions in the community. The general hypothesis was that the life entity, or whatever you wanted to call the plant-pipe-dome-wildlife combination, had somehow evolved to create its own species, a thought both worrisome and blasphemous for many of the cityâs inhabitants.
Richardâs family members, who had never been anywhere near the swamp dome, and who gathered all the information about the mechanical critters through hearsay, never connected the terrifying description of the crawling pan flutes to the innocent looking weather vane their son had designed. They had been around for enough of Richardâs contraptions to cease finding them scary looking, especially after the two versions of Brenda.
Besides, with the plant taking over the pipe manifold and all the consequences thereof, whatever Richard managed to build in his spare time didnât get the benefit of their full attention.
On top of everything, Diane had had an argument with her boyfriend and the entire household was on call to bring her comfort foods and listen to her wildly swerving stories. Stacey had enrolled in a dancing class and was driving everybody crazy with the constant tapping, which went up the stairwell like through a resonating chamber, to find its way straight into Richardâs room, amplified.
Little Teddy was finally exiting his terrible twos, to the relief, albeit unspoken, of the entire family. Carol wouldnât have anybody say a single bad word about the little boy, who, as she often liked to mention, didnât know any better.
So, there they were, in the middle of the daily family drama, discussing the tiny invaders, who were a lot more worrisome to the city folk than the plant because they had no roots, while the family dog ran around, completely out of control, spilling his bowl of food and overturning furniture in his wake.
âWouldnât you know it? They never found out how the plant spread to the hot springs area to begin with,â Carol commented as she sliced the pound cake, distributing it evenly between the dessert plates. âI know nothing good could come out of that, that place is completely forsaken. I guess weâre lucky it evolved those ridiculous looking crawling creatures and not something really dangerous.â
âYou donât know that! You donât know theyâre not dangerous!â Tom said. âWho knows what else is slithering inside that dome, nobody ever got inside it to do a real survey, it might be crawling with metal alligators, for all we know.â
âYou think somebody could have done this on purpose?â Carol asked, incredulous.
âDone what?â Tom asked.
âYou know, the plant, and everything else around it. Do you think somebody planted it?â Carol continued her thought.
âHow else would it have gotten there?â Tom argued.
âI donât know,â Carol suggested, âmaybe the wind carried its seeds, or something.â
âItâs not very likely that it can propagate by seed,â Tom contradicted her, going over the information they kept churning over in the town halls lately.
âSure it can!â Carol said, very sure of herself. âAnything can propagate by seed, thatâs why the plants make seed, it wouldnât make any sense otherwise.â She paused for a second, and then she realized that she was sick and tired about having that dreadful plant and all the other things associated with it run their dinner conversation every single night. âEnough about the plant!â she said, effectively ending the subject, and then turned towards Richard. âHow was school today, honey? Did you and Jack talk to your science teacher about enrolling Brenda in the science fair?â
âNot yet, mom. The teacher is still trying to decide which science fair would be most appropriate,â Richard replied, with his mouth full, determined to linger on this precarious subject as little as possible.
âI havenât seen Jack lately, not since he came to ask us if you could help him with that wildlife restoration project. How thoughtful of him to include you, dear! This is exactly the kind of activity your father and I would love to see you more involved in, rather than watch you spend all of your time putting together those gizmos of yours, you know? Get out, experience nature, breathe in fresh air, do something wholesome like bringing the native habitat back to balance,â she said. âNot that we donât appreciate your scientific curiosity, itâs justâŠwe worry sometimes. No boy your age should spend so much time alone,â she smiled encouragingly at his son, who almost choked on the pound cake. Tom nodded in agreement, which made it clear to Richard that his parents had given a lot of thought to his and Jackâs latest commitment. âSo, how is it going? Have you planted a lot of little tree saplings?â
Richard made an extreme effort not fall back in shock at Jackâs latest reality embellishment, which, technically speaking, was not even a lie: they were working to preserve wildlife, if only in its hybrid mechanical form, and the project did involve being outdoors in the wetlands, in the company of his friend.
âSo thatâs what the scoundrel told my parents! I was wondering how he managed to get us a free pass, no questions asked,â he thought. He gave credit to Jackâs endless reserves of creativity and then said out loud. âNot a lot of them yet, weâre still trying to evaluate the impact of introducing a new species into the habitat, we worry that it might bring about some unforeseen outcomes.â
âThat sounds like such an interesting project,â Carol continued the conversation. âWhen do you think we will be able to see it? I can hardly wait, you know how I love nature!â
âUuhhm, I think itâs going to be a while, mom. Weâre in the incipient stage of the project, there is not much to see yet,â Richard tried to change the subject. âBesides, the swamp is not that user friendly, which is why we decided to restore its natural settings to begin with.â
âOh, yes, I understand. In fact, Jack told us that the area youâre trying to restore is somewhere outside of town, near the hot springs,â Carol went on. âBe careful, Richard, with all the things that are going on over there. Iâm not sure Iâm entirely comfortable with you boys spending a lot of time in the area all by yourselves,â she started to say, and then she encountered Tomâs exasperated look and changed the subject. âI know, I know, Iâm being overprotective! You boys go and have fun! Besides, a three mile walk every day will do you a world of good!â she flashed her son an optimistic smile.
After dinner, Jack and Richard met at the library, to go over their plans for the following day. The library was surprisingly empty, maybe due to the fact that people were congregating in other venues, more suitable for talking.
âSo, I hear that weâre doing ecological restoration,â Richard said. âHow nice of us to lend a helping hand to mother nature!â
âReplanting the wetlands, thatâs what I said,â Jack corrected him.
âItâs not a lie,â Richard noticed.
âNo, itâs not. I didnât specify what we were going to plant,â Jack explained.
âOne of these days, JackâŠâ Richard sighed.
He stopped. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the jovial librarian walking straight towards them, all smiles and looking like she was hiding something under her jacket.
âOh, boy!â Jack prepared himself. âWatch out, dude! Sheâs headed here!â
The librarian stopped in front of the table the two were seated at, with a mysterious smile and excited by the big surprise.
âYou would never guess what I have here!â she pointed to the tiny bump inside her jacket, looking around surreptitiously, to make sure nobody else saw or heard her.
Her concern was really unnecessary, since they were the only people inside that wing of the library. The librarian took out the pan flute from inside her jacket and placed it on the table. It wasnât the original, Richard noticed immediately, because it had the same hand crafted finish as the new pipe distribution branch. Also, the little mechanical creature had grown a transparent shell around its complicated assembly of gears, pistons and rods, no doubt to protect them from dust and moisture. Richard wished he had thought of that when he designed the prototype.
The pan flute walked hesitantly on the shiny surface, its many legs quivering with apprehension towards the new environment, and then chimed harmoniously in a major scale, as if to ask what it was doing there.
âIsnât this the cutest thing youâve ever seen in your life?â the librarian couldnât contain her excitement. âAnd to think that thing from the swamp is capable of generating something like this! We really should pay more attention to that dome, it seems to hide endless treasure inside!â
âHow did you manage to get one out of the dome?â Jack couldnât help himself.
âOh, I just stepped inside and grabbed it,â the librarian said, as if it was nothing. âThe smell is not to be taken lightly, but you get used to it, eventually. It is a swamp, you knowâŠâ she excused herself, as if the stench was her fault.
âIs it safe in there?â Richard managed to mumble.
âWell,â the librarian said, âyou have to go prepared, the leaches can be a menace. Nothing a pair of rain boots canât handle, though.â She stopped and looked lovingly at the pan flute again. âI wonder what this little guy uses for energy!â
âIâm sure itâs solar powered,â Richard said, too unimpressed and sure of himself not to arouse suspicion.
âAnd how are you so sure?â the librarian gave him a probing look. Richard pointed to a little black surface inside the shell.
âAah, the cells, of course,â the good lady seemed satisfied with the finding. âAlthough you have to ask yourself where in the world did the dome find the information on how to produce solar shingles. Surely it couldnât have come up with it all by itself, somebody must have thrown one inside at some point.â
Richard and Jack looked at each other, not knowing how to extricate themselves from this discussion, which had all the perilous unpredictability of an avalanche. The librarian was just getting ready to go back to her tasks, to Jackâs great relief, when Richard rekindled the conversation, managing to aggravate his friend.
âSo, what are you doing with it?â the boy asked, unperturbed by the fact that he was reopening the Pandoraâs box his friend had tried so hard to close.
âIâm not sure. It doesnât seem to do much, it just chimes and moves around, but itâs very entertaining. It makes for a great pet. If I want it to go to sleep, I just cover it with a blanket. You should see it roam around under it for a little bit, before settling down! It drives the cats crazy!â the librarian was excited to share.
âDoesnât the chiming bother you?â Richard continued the questioning, despite the fact that Jackâs very sharp elbows were already poking a hole in his ribs.
âNo, I got used to it. Actually, Iâm trying to teach it to sing. Watch this!â she said, and started whistling a little jingle. The pan flute responded in a somewhat guttural tone, a little flat. âI canât get enough of it!â the librarian exclaimed, eyes glowing with excitement.
âDoes itâŠâ Richard was preparing an entire selection of questions, when he was interrupted by Jack, who had completely lost his patience with this blunder wagon waiting to overturn.
âSorry to interrupt,â Jack said, putting sufficient urgency in his request to make it believable. âRichard, did you forget our science club starts in ten minutes? We barely have enough time to make it there, that is if weâre running.â
Richard tried to dodge his friendâs diversion, but the latter grabbed his arm and his backpack and pushed him towards the door, walking backwards and excusing himself to the librarian.
âI wish we could stay, that little guy is so great, maybe some other time!â he said, dragging Richard out the door despite sustained resistance from the latter. âHave you lost it completely?!â Jack scolded his friend as soon as they were out of earshot. âWere you planning to show her the blueprints and the operation manual next? Do you know how hard I have to work to keep us out of trouble? What do you think she was going to do, present you with a medal? You act like a baby, dude!â
âDid you hear she went inside the dome?â Richard replied, completely ignoring his friendâs misgivings.
âYou mean the putrid stinking swamp? Environmental remediation indeed!â Jack mumbled under his breath.
âDonât knock what you donât understand, youâre not a frog,â Richard tried to present to him the benefits of swamp living as seen through the eyes of an amphibian species.
âYet!â Jack replied, exasperated. âI often worry that your next project will turn me into one!â
âI donât have the necessary capabilities,â Richard teased. âWell, at least now we know why the dome is protecting the pan flutes. If the librarian found them endearing, the plant probably did too, on an instinctive, primal level.â
âYou should have brought it a Brenda,â Jack said. âBrenda is not endearing, she looks like the thing that eats you at the end of a horror movie, only smaller!â
Richard wanted to protest the offense against his dear jellyfish, but Jack waved his hand with annoyance before giving him a chance to reply.
âWeâre late again, dude! My persuasive abilities can only stretch so far! Whoâs going to believe weâre planting tree saplings at this time of day?â Jack pointed out that it was already too dark for horticultural pursuits.
âYouâll think of something,â Richard said, confident in his friendâs coaxing abilities.
âSo, what now? Do we wait for the pan flutes to multiply and take over the world?â Jack asked, as he was preparing to head towards his home.
âI donât think there are a lot of people crazy enough to enter that death trap of a dome and bring them out, but Iâm sure a few of them will. It seems the little monsters make great pets!â Richard cracked up.
âAnd you donât think theyâd come out all by themselves,â Jack doubted his friendâs theory.
âNot any more than your toes would decide to split and wander around all by themselves,â Richard replied, very sure of himself.
âSo, our librarian went inside the belly of the beast, so to speak. Visiting the entrails of a living entity,â Jack couldnât help retch. âDonât you think we should tell her, dude?â he asked pitifully, his face all scrunched up at the thought of walking through products of digestion.
âWhoâs the baby now?â Richard retorted. âBesides, I think the putrid smell was reasonably self-explanatory. Why donât you mind spending time inside the other dome? People go there for lunch!â
âI donât think Iâll ever eat again,â Jack commented, with a forlorn look in his eyes.
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The meetings at the town hall were so common that one could almost randomly stop by and find oneself right in a middle of one. The scientific team decided to stick around for a while, partly in response to the town folksâ insistent requests for continuous updates, and partly because they were so excited to study this new embodiment of life, any other project felt dull in comparison.
Jack and Richard arrived somewhere in the middle of the current meeting, but they were so familiar with the subject matter by now that they were always able to fill in the details, so they found a couple of seats somewhere in the back and made themselves comfortable.
âSo you are saying thatâŠâ somebody from the first row was making sure they understood the biologist correctly.
âIt is a living entity,â the biologist replied.
âWhat part of it, the plant and the extension ducts?â the other speaker replied. âWe already know that!â
âNo, not only those, everything that it interacts with, the wall, the dome, the wildlife inside it, well, by extension, every person that enters it,â the biologist smiled.
The audience gasped. For months, rumors of the plant being capable of integrating people into its dense network of stems have been circulating, rumors that the factory was very assiduously trying to dispel.
âNo, no!â the biologist realized he had touched the third rail of the communal subconscious fear. âNot like that!â he tried to reassure everybody. âIt creates its own micro-climate, and everything inside it is a part of a coherent living organism. It adjusts itself to the warmth generated by the birds and plants,â he continued.
âAnd humans,â a morose person pressed the point that displeased everyone.
âAnd humans,â the biologist smiled. âIt compensates for the heat transfered through metal and through glass, and for the energy generated by the movement of electrons. Did you know that the areas where birds are nesting have dropped their temperatures to a cozy ninety six degrees? Itâs like a zoned climate system, with separate temperature controls.â
âAnd if the birds leave?â the first person asked.
âThan it goes back to getting hotter than the fires of Gehenna! How sweet of it to adjust its temperature for squirrels and mice, but it crisps us every chance it gets!â the morose man commented.
âActually, it doesnât get above one hundred and twenty degrees anymore. At least not in the active work zones.â
âI donât believe it!â the man replied.
âIt also increased the ventilation rate and the oxygen content in populated areas. It feels almostâŠpurposeful,â the biologist spoke. âI hesitate to call this intelligence, but it is certainly cohesive in demeanor and intent.â
âSee?â Richard whispered to Jack, excited. âI told you it steered clear of the storage room!â
âYou donât believe that!â Jack contradicted him. âIt went straight through a wall and youâre telling me that it avoided an open space on purpose!â
âWhat makes you think it didnât notice the wall?â Richard said.
âWhy would it want to go out into inclement weather?â Jack doubted.
âMaybe it was curious,â Richard replied.
âGet out of here!â Jack leaned back into his chair. âI think your love for this plant is making you crazy, dude! Itâs just a plant!â he exclaimed.
âSure it is, Jack! Sure it is!â Richard smiled back at him.
âAlso,â the biologist continued the account of his latest research, âwe noticed that it adjusted the percentages in the metal alloy of its petals to closely match the composition of our extrusion profiles. Our team concluded this is too specific for a random occurrence.â
âGreat! Now itâs mixing our alloys for us. Whatâs next? It messes with our breakfast?â the morose man replied.
âOne more thing,â the biologist said. âIt seems to be very protective of all of its living components. I wouldnât, for instance, try to remove any of the sparrows. I know some of you have complained about theâŠhhmâŠbird âaccidentsâ that happen on occasion.â
âWhy donât you call a spade a spade, sir! Itâs bird poop dropping on our heads,â the morose man replied.
âI understand,â the biologist said. âMaybe we can take some protective measures, to mitigate that.â
âOh, come on!â the other man exclaimed, exasperated.
âWell, thatâs all we have for now, weâll continue our research and keep you posted if there are any new developments,â the biologist smiled to the audience.
Jack and Richard headed home, and since it was a nice warm evening at the end of spring, they decided to take the longer route and enjoy the weather. The route wandered through a couple of side streets and then merged into a larger road, through a commercial area, edged by little shops. Along the sides of the pedestrian alleys, the late blooming trees were shedding their last petals, sprinkling the walkways with fragrant clutter.
âWhat do you think would happen to all the blossoms if they were allowed to fall to the ground?â Richard asked Jack, suddenly.
âI really donât know,â Jack thought for a second.
âSee, âcause if it were a normal plant, the petals would wilt and eventually turn into humus, but metal doesnât decompose, at least not for a long time. I guess the plant would be smothered by it if we didnât remove it,â he said.
âWhatâs your point?â Jack said.
âDo you remember how in the beginning it wouldnât bloom?â Richard replied. âWe even thought it wasnât able to produce flowers or fruit.â
âSo?â Jack said.
âSo, after we stretched the nets it started blooming twice a year.â
âI donât understand,â Jack said.
âDonât you see, Jack?â Richard stared at his friend, in disbelief. âItâŠadopted us!â
âHuh?â Jack blurted.
âIt, ahm, evaluated the components of its environment and adjusted its development guided by our continued presence in it,â Richard said, laughing. âWeâre just like the sparrows, my friend, only bigger,â he started laughing.
âIâm not sure I like the sound of that, dude! Arenât we supposed to be smarter than it is? Itâs just a plant!â Jack frowned.
âHow many times did we say that by now and were wrong every time? I think we all take ourselves a little too seriously. Weâre not better than the world we live in, weâre just capable of understanding some of it, is all.â
âSo, what are you saying, that if we stretch more nets it will bloom three times a year instead of two?â Jack extrapolated.
âProbably, but thatâs not the point. I am wondering what else the plant does now simply because we were there?â Richard said.
âWhat do you mean?â Jack said.
âWhat if it decided to make itself tools because we make tools, or to build shelter, or to protect another living thing?â Richard said, suddenly realizing that his own ardent desire to keep the plant from harm, his curiosity to see how it would evolve and interact with its surroundings, had infused the evolution of this very strange composite living entity. He was instantly humbled by this thought, and felt unworthy of the privilege.
âItâs you!â Jack exclaimed, shocked by the sudden understanding. âIt is just like you!â
âNot entirely,â Richard tried to joke, to lessen the tension of the moment. âI, for instance, donât release droppings on peopleâs heads. It is a little like me, though, isnât it?â he asked his friend, smiling from ear to ear with all the eager pride of a new parent.
âIâm hurt,â Jack teased. âI canât recognize anything of mine in it, not even a little bit!â
âDonât worry, Jack! When it starts poking fun at me, Iâll be sure to let you know.â
The thought didnât leave Richard, and the more his mind dwelled on the adaptability of this environment, the more he saw its future potential, so he decided to do a little experiment. He didnât tell Jack, who would have tried to talk him out of it, but spent a lot of time, as summer approached, observing the new plant habitat, the one at the hot springs, monitoring its growth patterns, its wildlife, its temperature changes. After that he went home and spent a lot of time in his room, building. His parents and sisters stopped by, on occasion, and asked a few questions about the new device, but they were used to Richardâs gizmos, so they didnât study it too closely.
When it was finished, the little knot of gears spun conscientiously, making weird noises through a cluster of pipes. The entire device wasnât bigger than a fist, and it moved about on a multitude of little mechanical legs, like a giant bug carrying a pan flute.
Richard took the little mechanical creature to the hot spring habitat, released it inside the glass dome and left. A few weeks later, he came back to find the dome populated by little walking pan flutes, chugging along on their tiny mechanical legs and humming eerily in the faintest breeze. He turned on his heels and ran all the way to the town, to tell Jack, who dropped everything he was doing and accompanied him back to the dome, to see the creatures with his own eyes.
âWhat exactly is that?â Jack stared in disbelief at a group of metal creatures who were congregating on a hot leaf. The plant didnât bother to lower its temperature for them, which gave Richard an idea of the range of temperature the little creatures could tolerate. He quickly recorded the finding in his notebook. âAre you taking notes? Donât tell me you had something to do with this!â he shook his head.
âI had an idea, I just wanted to see if the plant discriminates between useful and worthless ideas, and unfortunately, it doesnât. That can be both a good thing and a bad thing,â he explained, still filled with the excitement of his successful experiment.
âHow is that?â Jack asked.
âThe good thing is that we can make it manufacture anything we want, of course it is not very precise yet, but Iâm sure it will evolve to become as precise as we need it to be.â Richard said, and then he continued. âThe bad thing is that we can make it manufacture anything we want. Itâs ironic, isnât it?â he smiled, a little sad. âOur beacon of freedom here can overcome any barriers, but canât stop itself from replicating rubbish.â
âWhat do the little bugs do?â Jack asked, touched by his friendâs distress.
âThatâs just it! I designed this little machine to be absolutely worthless. It doesnât do anything, it just moves around and makes noise. Now we have a whole species of it,â Richard said.
âSetting aside the fact that what you did was incredibly reckless, Iâm not going to go into details why,â Jack stared at his friend, who nodded in agreement, âIâm not entirely sure you are right about that. You are not this new living thing, you donât know what it considers valuable and what it tosses out. Garbage is in the eyes of the beholder,â Jack tried to comfort his friend.
âWhat could possibly be the benefit of a glut of little creatures that do nothing other than move about and sound weird! For all intents and purposes, theyâre giant cockroaches!â Richard blurted out, on the verge of tears.
âYou put too much faith in the judgment of a plant,â Jack tempered him. âItâs a plant!â
âWould you stop with the itâs a plant already? Why does everybody keep saying that!â Richard jumped to his feet and started walking around the dome, really upset.
âBesides, bugs serve a very important role in the natural equilibrium of living things, Iâm sure the plant found a purpose for them. And they sound nice, if you manage to get over the weirdness factor,â Jack said.
âOne of this days some idiot will throw a bag of trash in the dome and weâll all be overrun by refuse,â Richard said.
âNobody will throw trash in the plant habitat!â Jack protested.
âWhatever gave you the impression that this is not the kind of thing that could happen?â Richard commented.
âIâm sure the plant will figure it out eventually,â Jack said unconvinced.
âThe plastic alone,â Richard continued his lament.
âThere is no overflowing of trash in the other dome,â Jack finally found something to bring consolation to his friend. âIâm sure people must have left trash in there at some point!â
Richard postponed his lamentation until a later date, when he could ascertain that it was indeed pertinent to their actual situation.
âSo, what did you tell your family this stuff was?â Jack couldnât help be amused by the little creatures, who wandered about their brand new home, given to a swarm of activities that didnât make any sense.
âI told them it was an automated weather vane,â Richard sniffled.
âAnd they believed you?â Jack laughed at the oddity of the concept.
âThatâs the problem with useless machines, Jack! You can make them look like they could do anything, they just need to look complex enough.â
âI kind of like the little buggers, they seem harmless,â Jack looked at the pan flute creatures again, and the latter rewarded him by harmonizing in the flow of the air conditioning, into something that sounded like countless wind chimes.
âSo, what now?â he asked his friend.
âI donât know,â Richard said. âWe go to the other dome, see if it replicated trash, monitor the pan flutes to make sure they donât spread all over town to torment us all, start figuring out if we can make the dome build something useful,â Richard started enumerating.
âWhat about them?â Jack pointed towards the pan flutes. âIâm sure somebody will notice them eventually.â
âIn this mess?â Richard pointed to the abundance of leaves, and the birds, field mice, frogs and a million other things that were crawling, jumping and flying their way through them. âI really donât think so, Jack. Would you have noticed them if I didnât tell you?â he tried to reinforce his argument.
âDuh! Theyâre everywhere! And theyâre moving! Theyâre kind of hard to miss!â Jack gestured feverishly.
âWhat are you, a cat?â Richard downplayed his concern.
âIsnât Mrs. Jenkinsâ patrol still roaming around?â Jack mentioned. âSomebody is bound to notice them, for sure. If they think the plant generated them all by itself, they are going to freak out.â
âI wouldnât worry about it, between the smell and the heat, this is not the place that draws people near. I doubt anybody will stick around long enough to notice them,â Richard reassured him.
They made their way back home, quietly, and spanned the three miles so quickly they didnât realize when they were almost home. Jack spent the entire time thinking about an entire city overrun by pan flutes, and wished he could kick Richard for not having a second of hesitation before implementing any of his scientific experiments, while Richard mentally put together a prototype for something he had wanted to build for a very long time, too absorbed in its details to pay attention to his friendâs mood.
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Itâs not that people donât expect life to change, it is the way that change comes about that always catches them unprepared. Sometimes it is as trivial as rain on the day of the picnic that everybody had spent months planning and looking forward to, or as significant as a shift in circumstances that makes oneâs life plans lose consistency, but these are things that people usually adapt to, that they talk about with their loved ones, and then, after sufficient time had passed, they put behind them and move on.
Other changes canât be assimilated gradually, because they just donât fit in the general understanding of existence, and they put a kink in the smooth passage of time, a singularity of sorts, that divides life into before and after. The reality of the plant belonged to the second category, and no amount of commiseration could make it blend gradually into the fabric of life.
Richard had made his choice the first time he had laid eyes on the defiant sprout that it was something worth protecting, so his heart wasnât conflicted over the unreasonable changes that it had imposed on life as he knew it. Come to think of it, he was probably the only person in town that didnât see the plant as a harbinger of the apocalypse.
The fact that he had helped it along and unwittingly facilitated its integration into every single aspect of life in the city was something that he liked to keep to himself, not that he was ashamed of it, or anything, but he wasnât very sure that his loved ones would appreciate it.
âI so miss all that time when life was peaceful, and easy, you know?â Carol liked to complain to her friends, over the phone. âBefore that plant dropped in from God knows where and ruined our lives,â she sighed, placing another basket of laundry in front of the Biologix self-sorting washer.
The machine went to work, diligently, assessing the clothes by color, level of dinginess and set in stains and separating them into neat piles.
âRemember?â Carol told her friend, âhow uncomplicated things used to be?â
She stopped talking, to give her friend a chance to reply and at the same time she muted the phone to remind the environmental controls that Tom had complained the living room was too hot the night before and to point out to Brenda that the hot water temperature was set at 125 degrees, when she really would have preferred 120.
âI know, me too, right? Itâs just this stupid plant, May, driving us all crazy!â Carol replied to her friendâs comment, coming from the other end of the line. âWant to meet later, grab a cup of coffee?â she ended the conversation, smiling politely, even though she was aware that her friend couldnât see her through the phone.
âItâs like theyâre obsessed, obsessed, I tell you!â Richard couldnât help venting frustration as soon as he met with Jack later at the malt shop. âI canât picture a single annoyance that they wouldnât find a way to blame on the plant! Sometimes I wish it were that omnipresent, at least theyâd have a real reason to whine about it!â
âKnock on wood, dude!â Jack shuddered. âDo you know my momâs patient base grew significantly since last year? Apparently that plant of yours drives a lot of people nuts.â
âYouâre spending way too much time with your mother, man,â Richard scolded him. âWhere is the Jack that didnât hesitate to break an entering?â
âBreaking an entering is one thing, having a plant automatically adjust the sound levels in your room is another,â he revealed the source of the latest inconvenience he attributed to biologically derived machines. âDo you know that my mother replaced my old music player with this new one that looks like itâs going to crawl into my ear and eat my brains, only because she was concerned about the level of decibels I feel comfortable with? I canât turn up the sound on the new player, it just self-adjusts to a vibration level it finds acceptable,â he pointed out the irony of the situation. âShe just got me a device that adjusts the settings to accommodate its own needs, not mine! And sheâs happy with that, because she didnât like the music running through my eardrums at a hundred decibels. But she never ceases to complain about how the biological machines are destroying life as we know it. Go figure!â
âWhy donât you let me take a look at it,â Richard offered. âMaybe I can adjust it for you.â
âThatâs just it, you canât! The music player is alive, it will wilt if subjected to a broader range of vibrations, if you adjust it for the decibel level itâs going to break down,â Jack explained.
âNot to be a pest, dude, but why would you want to be subjected to a noise level that can kill a plant?â Richard tried to defend his argument.
âBecause Iâm not a plant!â Jack protested. âIâm not going to contract powdery mildew either!â
âMaybe itâs because the device is made of regular plant cells, maybe if we could make it out of the transgenic ones,â Richard got an idea.
âNO!â Jack jumped, terrified. âYouâre not unleashing plantzilla on me, Snake! Not in my own home!â
âIt was just a thought,â Richard backed down. âMaybe we could try a sturdier plant for the material?â he offered an alternative.
âForget it, man, I was just trying to make a point,â Jack waved, irritated, trying to put an end to the subject. âSo, what else is new?â
âI got an A in bio,â Richard mentioned.
âNo! Really?â Jack commented, mentally adding the latest A to the rest of Richardâs list.
âWhat can I say,â his friend replied, offended by his lack of interest. âMy life is really not that exciting.â
âNow why do I find that so hard to believe?â Jack gave him a probing stare. âYou know I envy you, Snake? You love everything you do, those weird gizmos, the darned plant! You donât spin your wheels like the rest of us, complaining to your handheld Plantech dictation device about the dissociative effect of biologically derived machines on society,â he confessed.
âI donât own a Plantech,â Richard corrected him.
âThatâs not the point!â Jack snapped. âIf you had one youâd probably use it to bring frozen plant sections with you to study on vacation!â he tried to explain his point of view. âEverybody is trying to get away from this giant sweeping wave, youâre just running straight into it!â
âThere is nothing wrong with biologically based machines!â Richard protested.
âOf course not, thatâs just the problem,â Jack tried to explain. âThere is absolutely nothing wrong with them, and yet, our lives will never be the same.â
âAnd why is that bad?â Richard asked, with an innocent look on his face that felt like ice through Jackâs veins.
âSee, thatâs what Iâm talking about, youâre running into the wave again,â Jack pointed at him, almost belligerent, âyou must be the only one who canât see it!â
âMaybe I like the wave,â Richard retorted.
âOh, I donât doubt that you do!â Jack stared, frowning.
âIt introduces a whole new level of intricacy to constructed devices that we wouldnât have a prayer of building, not in our lifetimes!â Richard argued his point.
âWhich scares me witless, you introduce a new set of variables into a closed system that you donât have the means to control and you just hope to God that it adjusts itself before devouring us whole,â Jack mumbled, frustrated.
âYou canât control your own bodily functions either, and yet you still trust them to function normally! What youâre saying is that youâd prefer to be able to control your digestive tract!â Richard said. âHeck, if we worried about this stuff all the time, none of us would ever be able to poop again!â
âJust because I canât control my autonomous bodily functions, that doesnât meanâŠâ Jack started, and then he stopped to think. âYou know what? If I had the choice to control my autonomous bodily functions, Iâd very much like to,â he declared, defiantly.
âYou have some serious control issues, dude,â Richard barely managed to stifle a giggle.
âHow can you be so comfortable with a thing that ate an entire pipe distribution manifold and spit it out with alterations and enhancements to accommodate its own needs! Thatâs not a machine, dude! Thatâs a living thing!â
âMost certainly!â Richard replied, excited. âWhich is exactly why I donât want it hurt in any way!â
âI just want it as far away from me as humanly possible,â Jack insisted, stubborn.
âWhy?â Richard asked again, in a voice that sounded almost hurt.
âBecause I canât make it do what I want!â Jack blurted, almost against his will.
âThere is a whole host of things you canât make do what you want, Jack, most of them destructive. Donât be angry at the one that is actually beneficial,â Richard said, in a soft tone of voice, almost a whisper.
Richard couldnât understand what was wrong with grown-ups. He sometimes felt like they waited for him to get interested in something, just to enjoy the privilege of forbidding him to pursue it. Tom and Carol concluded that their son was spending way too much time buried in his books and tinkering with his gadgets, and they decided to enroll him in as many extracurricular activities they could manage to cram into his schedule. They required full involvement and were time intensive, but most importantly, they all had one thing in common: they consisted of activities that at best were indifferent to Richard, and at worst he simply couldnât stand. They included, for instance, track and field, local field trips with historical themes and glass making seminars.
Despite his natural aversion towards strenuous physical activity, Richard hoped that there may be at least some benefit to all that running and jumping, that hopefully he might get to build up his physique a little bit and stop looking like a string bean, not realizing that nature, in its transcendent wisdom, decided to keep him that way, in spite of all efforts, so that he would continue to be able to slip through the fence.
At the end of the day, between running around in circles, handling hot glass and filling up flash quizzes with extraneous details about historical artifacts, Richard was usually too tired to dig into his books, but he did it anyway, the best he could, just to keep the things he loved from getting lost in the fray.
He wished he could make more Brendas, but there just wasnât enough time, between his school projects and his other scheduled activities, and since many of the real enterprises in the city took up the challenge of creating biology based devices, somebody always made his dream gadget before he even had a chance to really think about it.
Considering the fact that oneâs path is charted by the day to day activities, Richard had to come to terms with the fact that his life stopped being about his own interests and hobbies, and became about the things he had to do, but didnât necessarily enjoy, and in those moments he rooted for the plant even more, for its annoying resilience, for its refusal to submit, and most of all for the fact that, to quote his best friend, people couldnât make it do what they wanted.
He loved it because it had managed to make its way up the chimney and through the wall, and because you couldnât cut it with shears; he loved it because it defied every rule of man and nature, and succeeded in its task. He loved it because it had made its own micro-climate, and because it bloomed indoors. He loved the plant, because, in his mind, it represented freedom.
That afternoon he had just finished a five mile run, and he was in his room, getting ready for yet another activity, when he heard the familiar rapping of pebbles on the window.
âJack, thank heavens! If I have to catalog another stone spearhead from the Neolithic period Iâm going to lose my mind! Please get me out of here, I beg of you! Iâm supposed to get ready for this old pottery exhibit, is there any way you could use your creative skills and get me out of it?â Richard besought.
âYour wish is my command,â Jack mock-curtseyed.
He climbed out of the window and went to the front of the house, to have an animated conversation with Tom and Carol. Richard didnât get to hear what his friend told his parents, but the latter were very eager to make sure that their son was able to accompany Jack to wherever he was supposedly going.
âWhat on earth did you tell them?â he asked, amazed at the spectacular change in his very rigid schedule.
âA magician never reveals his tricks!â Jack said, serious.
âMust have been quite a story, I gather,â Richard tried to tease the truth out of him.
âWhat do I always say?â Jack smiled, âa good story is all about emotions, Snake!â
âWhere are we going?â he asked.
âFancy a trip to the factory, to see how the plant is doing?â Jack asked.
âRight now?â Richard said.
âDo you have someplace better to be? Wanna stop by that museum, see the old pottery exhibit?â his friend asked, very serious.
âPlease donât even joke about that!â Jack shuddered.
Upon their arrival at the factory, Richard didnât even notice the changes, because he was just too happy to run around his old hunting ground, moving from pressure valves to vacuum pumps, eager to take in the familiar image and reconnect with the place that inspired all his love for design. The plant had reached maturity and was extending thick ropes covered in flowers and berries over the nets stretched overhead. Richardâs heart melted instantly at the sight of this deceptively strong lattice of criss-crossing vines, whose metallic foliage gleamed in the light.
âHow can you not love it?â he exclaimed, trying to persuade his friend that the plant was a gift to their generation, and that it opened the door to whole new industry and still unknown innovations in the future.
âI guess it grows on you,â Jack said. âDid you see the glass dome?â
âInteresting how it didnât need a kiln that burns at fifteen hundred degrees,â Richard noticed, his knowledge still fresh from his glass blowing classes.
âIn all fairness, the plant itself is hot all the time,â Jack replied.
âThis is like a little greenhouse!â Richard exclaimed, excited by the sight of the glass dome. âI canât believe I missed so much of its development!â
He looked at all the major components, and also at the new branches that the plant had built for itself, and he noted, satisfied with the progress of his beloved:
âWell, I guess it doesnât need us anymore!â
âIâm sure thatâs exactly what everybody is worried about,â Jack mumbled, mostly to himself.
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The construction of Brenda two didnât go as fast as Richard had hoped, in part because, strangely enough, designing a complete breakthrough in engine technology was really hard, and in part because, despite their continued promises to give him space to work, his parents and sisters couldnât help themselves and their curiosity about the projectâs development.
When his family finally left him alone, Jack climbed through the window to help, managing to distract Richard so much with his constantly wandering chatter that he usually ended up abandoning the portion of work he had scheduled for the day and spent all the time listening to his friendâs latest finds of fresh gossip.
Brenda two looked almost exactly like its older sister, if only a little smaller, but having to adapt the look of the old prototype to accommodate the functions of the new one presented an additional challenge that Richard could gladly have done without. From a design standpoint the structure and general aspect of the new prototype made absolutely no sense, and because of that when the big day finally arrived the boy showed up in the kitchen with an object that related to plumbing just as much as rope pertains to needlework.
âIâll be darned!â his father exclaimed at the sight of the smaller and overly designed mechanical jellyfish. âTo be completely honest with you, I didnât think you were going to pull this off. I know you werenât designing a water heater, Ricky, but now that you actually made one, letâs see how it works, shall we?â he drew closer, looking forward to the demonstration. The rest of the family joined him, barely leaving Richard enough room to move around.
Richard tapped the jellyfish on its head to make it release its grasp on his fingers and placed it on the long goose neck sprayer, right on top of the bend. Brenda dutifully attached itself to the spout, its display turning every color in the rainbow in a swirl of pastel pudding hues.
âHow on earth does this work?â his father couldnât stop laughing, unsure if that was because Brenda looked absolutely hilarious, or because he was excited and emotional about his sonâs innovative spirit.
Richard waved a few passes over the surface of the display, brushing off the color with his palms and making it shift from rose to aqua and every nuance in between.
âI assume rose stands for hot and aqua for cold,â Tom said. âA bit involved for a water heater, donât you think? Although nothing to sneeze at, thatâs for sure,â he commented, all the while thinking that constraints often yielded the greatest discoveries and extremely proud of his son, even though he had a bit of a moral quandary showing it at this time, all lies considered. âYou should enter this in the science fair for real this time,â he suggested. âWhy didnât you tell us about it?â
Richard was instantly grateful to Jack and his constant pestering to get their story straight, and he eagerly produced the latest and greatest version of their joint scenario, version which was guaranteed to satisfy both the curiosity and the pride of the family members.
Upon finishing the demonstration, Richard tapped Brenda gently on the head and the colorful jellyfish released the spout from its transparent tentacles.
âYou mean you can attach this to any pipe anywhere?â Tomâs pride at his sonâs inventiveness went up a peg or two.
âYes,â Richard said, relieved that his many hours of stress sweating over Brenda two at least earned him a reprieve from uncomfortable questions.
âYou know, in better days I would take this to the factory and show it off, but now I have no untouched pipe branch to demonstrate it on, the darn plant is managing all the environmental controls now, it would be redundant. I canât stand the darn thing, it makes me feel superfluous,â he frowned. âThe system balances itself, and keeps within the tolerance range, even if I wanted to control it myself, it wouldnât allow me. To think that Iâve been replaced by a plant, itâs so embarrassing!â
âItâs no worse than automated controls,â Richard felt the need to defend the good work Brenda number one was so evidently doing, hidden from view inside the plantâs vascular system. He wondered what the jellyfish looked like right now, and if the plant warped it in some way, to adapt it to its needs.
âI donât like it one bit, itâs like the factory is going to manage itself soon, weâre just there to enjoy the view. I guess weâre lucky weâre still needed, that fiendish plant is keeping us all on our toes, you never know what youâll run into from one day to the next. Did I tell you it built itself a secondary system, ready to take over in case anything goes wrong with the main? Iâm not comfortable handing over the controls to a plant! Itâs a plant!â Tom suddenly recalled the source of his frustration.
âIâm sure its inner workings are infinitely more intricate than any piece of machinery anybody can devise,â Richard protested, to his fatherâs great surprise.
âWhat do you mean?â his father asked.
Tom looked at his son, a little surprised by the youthâs excitement over something that so far had engendered nothing but tension and discontent in the grown-ups. He hesitated for a second, to evaluate whether his own feelings about the current situation were reasonable, and after recalling that he and his team members had to cut a tunnel through the hot foliage last week in order to be able move from a section to another, he concluded that his irritation was completely warranted.
Later that day, Richard and Jack met at the malt shop to celebrate their narrow escape from perpetual detention with two vanilla floats.
âTo tell you the truth, this stuff is getting kind of tiresome, man,â Jack complained. âI love making up a good story as much as the next guy, but itâs exhausting having to come up with fresh excuses every day to keep up with the darn plant! Any day now that lovely librarian is going to run into our parents at the least convenient moment and volunteer the story of the floating stem, and weâre going to have to invent ourselves a fairy godmother for that one!â
âThe demonstration went very well, thank you for asking!â Richard replied, staring at his friend with reproach.
âSorry, Snake! I didnât mean to snub the jellyfish,â he slurped his beverage with a thoughtful look on his face. âSo, I take it that Brenda two was adequate to the task,â he questioned.
âHow is it that nobody cares about a machine made almost entirely of modified plant cells?â Richard asked, revolted.
âThatâs your gig, why should anybody care? Do you care how the hydrophore regulates the water pressure on the second floor of your home? You just turn on the tap and expect water to come out,â Jack argued.
âMaybe if I cared more I would find a way to make that stack quieter, that would save me a lot of sleep,â Richard retorted.
âMaybe it would,â Jack agreed.
âAny news from the factory?â Richard asked him.
âSame old, same old. The output went up again, the foundry turns up steel profiles around the clock and everybody blames the plant for destroying their lives,â Jack said, without grasping the irony of the statement, which, taken out of context, would have been evident.
âThatâs because biological systems are a lot more efficient than mechanical ones,â Richard noted.
âWhatever,â Jack devoted his attention to the remainder of his vanilla float.
âWhatâs wrong, Jack?â Richard asked. He knew his friend well and he couldnât help notice how much his mood had changed lately. He seemed quieter, withdrawn, very unlike himself.
âNothing, itâs justâŠâ Jack hesitated. âEver since this stupid plant appeared in our lives, weâve been doing nothing but babysit it. Itâs like nobody has a life anymore, maybe our parents are right, you know?â
âWhat would you be doing instead?â Richard asked.
âI donât know, hang out, play some ball, catch up with gossip,â Jack started recalling his old habits.
âBut we do that now, donât we?â Richard asked.
âYes, we do. And somehow we manage to make it all about the stupid plant! Itâs just a plant!â he protested.
âWell,â Richard frowned, moved by his friendâs distress, âso what do you want to do about it?â
âYou know, sometimes you sound just like my mother,â Jack replied. Jackâs mother was a psychologist, and the main reason Jack had developed his spectacular ability to make up the most unlikely stories right off the cuff, at will. He surprised himself sometimes, when the glut of fictitious events came to him so easily he almost believed half of them. âYou donât want me to reassure you too that Iâm ok, do you? Itâs, like, extra work on top of the upset.â
âIâm not saying this to rattle you, but I thought about this for a long time, for all the time since the plant appeared, in fact, and for the life of me I canât figure out what anybody could possibly have done about this situation that we havenât already tried. I donât want to wake up every morning just to fight the new day. There are so many things about this change that are really good, actually.â
âOh, yeah?â Jack challenged. âLike what?â
âLike Brenda,â Richard brought the conversation back to his favorite conversation topic. âI wouldnât have thought to build a Brenda if it wasnât for the plant,â he said, smiling.
Jack stared at him with a conflicted look in his eyes and didnât say anything for a while.
âNot everybody is a tinkerer, Snake.â
âSo,â Richard continued, in a small voice that sounded rather miserable. âWould you rather the plant was never here?â
âNo, see, thatâs just the thing,â Jack replied, frustrated, ââcause then I remember how it used to be around here before this pest invaded. Death by boredom!â He smiled to a memory. âRemember how we broke into the lab? Those were the days!â
âThey would have been a lot worse days if we ever got caught,â Richard noted.
âBut we didnât, right? We didnât! Admit it, that was fun!â Jack said, excited, and Richard, who was infinitely less of a thrill seeker than his friend, nodded in agreement, just to make him happy. He still woke up in a cold sweat at times, dreaming that he went to prison, was repudiated by his family and friends and deprived of his future. âOn occasion,â he said.
âI guess we owe the plant for that,â Jack had to admit. âLife has been an adventure ever since.â
âWhatâs the problem then?â Richard asked.
âI canât put my finger on it, itâs like being kind of pregnant, you donât know whether to quit smoking or start shopping for bikinis. Hypothetically speaking, of course,â Jack frowned.
âIâm sure you can put that concern out of your mind, thatâs one thing you wonât have to worry about,â Richard laughed.
âThatâs just it! I canât be sure about that either. Nothing is out of the realm of possibility anymore,â Jack replied, half-serious. âAnd here we are, talking about the plant again.â
âWe can talk about anything else youâd like,â Richard tried to appease him.
âNo, we really canât. Itâs like this thing grew extensions into our brains too, it sneaks its way into our every thought!â Jack contradicted him. âI dare you to go ten minutes without mentioning the plant, youâll see you canât do it!â
Richard tried to kindle another conversation, but tried as he might, he could only come up with details about Brenda.
âOh, whatâs the point! Go ahead, brag about your jellyfish, I know you want to!â Jack conceded the argument, as if he had read his friendâs thoughts.
Richard took the rare opportunity his friend afforded him to give Jack an ear full of Brenda twoâs features and capabilities.
âIs it really made of plant cells?â Jack couldnât believe it.
âYes, it is,â Richard said. âOf course, theyâre all altered somehow to accommodate the design, but theyâre real plant cells.â
âI always thought you made those, you know, in a dish,â Jack hesitated.
âI couldnât possibly! I canât duplicate such a level of complexity!â
As smitten as Richard was with the plantâs surreal qualities, he had to admit that Jack had a point. In less than a year, quietly but irrevocably, the plant had set roots not only inside the factory assets, which it adapted to its own needs, but in a broader sense, into the very life of the city, into peopleâs thoughts, finding its way into their old customs, weaving its strands into their daily conversations around the kitchen table, reshaping their experiences. Even the image of the town, as seen from the Belvedere point, was different, in a way not easy to define, a way enhanced, maybe, by the fact that the plant had clambered its way up the factory chimneys and was now sticking out of them, like a bud in a vase, surrounded by swirls of fog.
Everything had changed, in a subtle, but irreversible manner, and Richard knew that Jack was right, that their world will never be the same. In the continuous flow of events, he hadnât had time to ask himself whether that was for better or for worse, and if he ever stopped to think about it, he would have had to admit that it was a mixture of both. Just like life, the plant had brought the bitter with the sweet, excitement in frustration, birth in the middle of chaos. All things considered, it was literally a hot mess, but what a creative mess that was, and what commanding potential emerged out of it!
The fact that a small whim of fate, one mutation out of the many that get rejected every day, set events in motion on such a life altering path was still surreal to Richard, and when reality bore down too hard on him he usually went back to his room and found some new gadget to put together, gadget which, in accordance with the times, looked more and more like a living thing and less like a mechanical device with each passing day.
Richard wasnât the only one who found a way to put the plant/machine hybrid to good use, and as bio-based gadgets ceased to be an oddity, the town was soon awash with them, and they all looked strangely alive, as if nature had decided to grace the planet with a whole new branch of species, all at once. As it happens when life challenges ingrained concepts about what things are possible, it only takes one instance to prove the contrary. The plant had broken the ineffable barrier between organic and inorganic, the four minute mile of life and matter, so to speak, and from that moment on, the rift between the two forever ceased to exist.
It wasnât climactic, it was barely noticeable, and just like always when life is evolving, it happened in silence.
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Everything would have gone well for Jack and Richard, as much as one could expect under the circumstances, if it werenât for the parentsâ and the teachersâ curiosity. Come summer, everybody was on pins and needles to learn the results of the science fair, where, they had no doubt, the boysâ project was certain to grab the interest of the evaluating committee.
After unsuccessful attempts to get the pertinent information from Jack, Mrs. Jenkins decided to take the matter into her own hands and reach out to the various science fairs, in the hope of surprising the two by sharing with everybody their outstanding results. When her phone inquiries turned out nothing, she thought that the school principal might have a better grasp of the ins and outs of these competitions, and she asked him for assistance. The principal researched all the science fairs in the area himself, but none of them happened to feature any bio-engines at the time, so, a little puzzled by the conflicting information, he called Jackâs mother, to find out the name of his cousin.
Jackâs mother wasnât able to shed any light on his query, due to the fact that Jack didnât have any cousins that she knew of, and this was the first time sheâd ever seen her son show interest in a science fair, since the boy seemed to be drawn to artistic endeavors, rather than technical ones.
The principal then called Carol, who knew even less about the details of the project. She had shown great interest in its development right from the very beginning, but her interest was more from the standpoint of maternal pride, as a great piece of news to be shared with friends and neighbors.
By the time the boys got back from school, both of their houses were on full alert. Carol sent Richard to his room until his father returned from work, unwilling to deal with whatever it was that made Richard get in trouble at school.
The boy went to his room, almost relieved to have a couple of hours to himself, to cook up an explanation before he had to face the music. He used his time wisely, revising his story, and worrying that he would not be able to coordinate it with Jack if the need arose. When his father finally got home, the tiredness of a long day was amplified by the fact that he now had to discipline his son. Dinner was a lot quieter than usual, with both father and son searching for a way to avoid the mandatory conversation.
âYour mother tells me that the school principal called,â his father finally started, wishing he were anywhere else instead. âHe mentioned there was no science fair in the whole district,â he said, softly, and continued after a long pause. âWhat on earth are you two up to, Richard?â he asked, uncomfortable, swallowing his words.
âIâm going to strangle Jack,â Richard thought. âItâs just as simple as that.â He couldnât come up with any reasonable explanation for the web of truth enhancements, so he looked around, in search of inspiration.
âI hear Jackâs mother never heard of that cousin of his, on account of the fact that he doesnât exist,â Tom continued, unable to stifle his sarcasm. Richardâs gaze was still sweeping the room and his mind grabbed hold of the first image his eyes came upon, which was the tankless water heater.
âWe wanted it to be a surprise, we didnât know whether it would work, so we didnât want to let anybody know before we tested it,â Richard replied in an embarrassed mumble, looking at his plate.
âDidnât know if what would work?â his fatherâs questioning continued.
âThe bio-engine. We wanted to make a chlorophyll enabled solar heater,â he blurted the first words that came to his mind. His father gave him a long, probing look.
It was quite obvious that he didnât believe a single word Richard had said, but he wanted to demonstrate to his son that lies never lead a person to a good place, and he was willing to allow the deception to continue to the inevitable point where the fibs imploded onto themselves.
âOk,â he said. âNow we all know about it, so you no longer need to hide your work. Why donât you bring your prototype here and show us how it works?â he suggested.
âThat one was a first draft,â Richard improvised on the spot, with a sudden appreciation for Jackâs talent to make up stuff on cue and somewhat relieved that some of his friendâs useful skill seemed to have rubbed off on him. âItâs not working-working,â he continued. âWe were in the process of refining the concept,â he said, and his father interrupted him with an impatient hand gesture.
âWe know, we all saw the little jellyfish. That was an almost finished gadget, was it not?â
âWhich broke, unfortunately,â Richard didnât skip a beat, âJack and I dropped it on accident just as we were about to test it for the first time.â
âThatâs regrettable,â his father kept him on the hook, âafter all that hard work you guys put into it! What was it, five, six weeks?â
âTwo months,â Richard corrected him.
âI hope you get a new working prototype soon, weâre all very curious about how it works.â Richard nodded with his mouth full, grateful that the meal of the day, venison stew, required extra time for chewing.
âSure, dad,â he finally said when they reached dessert.
âIt shouldnât take you very long now, that you already have it all figured out,â his dad put some pressure on the expected timing of the delivery. âTwo weeks? Three, tops?â Richard nodded, so he wouldnât have to answer.
âOne thing I donât understand, though,â Carol stumped him, just when he thought he had safely delayed the reckoning for his elusive activities for at least another week. âWhy did you have to make up a cousin for Jack?â she looked at her son, as if searching for his former innocence.
The thought of strangling his friend occurred to Richard again, and at the same time he wished the latter was there, because he surely would have come up with something half-believable. For lack of an answer, he shrugged his shoulders and dove into the seven layer cake with surprising enthusiasm.
âJust donât keep us all on tenterhooks,â his father insisted, to make clear to Richard that the event will not die down without an adequate explanation. âI, for one, want to hear all the technical details.â
Later, at the library, Jack and Richard buried themselves in a mountain of technical documentation that nobody could understand, in order to carve for themselves a half hour of uninterrupted dialog and assess the magnitude of their kerfuffle.
âAre you crazy?â Jack snapped. âWhy on earth would you tell your father we were making a chlorophyll enabledâŠâ he forgot the rest of the designation.
âSolar heater,â Richard completed it. âI didnât know what to say, ok? I panicked! This is the first thing that came to mind!â he whimpered.
âThat gizmo better look a lot like Brenda, âcause we donât have the time to design a new device from scratch. Can you adapt the jellyfish to look like it heats water?â Jack inquired.
âWell, technically speaking, it has to be able to heat water, I donât think dad will give me a pass for a device that doesnât do what itâs supposed to, not after two whole months of tinkering and two previous prototypes,â his friend replied.
âYou mean to tell me that you are going to have to attach a real Brenda to the hot water pipe in your kitchen?â Jack asked, incensed by the mere contemplation of this possibility.
âRelax, Jack! This doesnât have anything to do with the plant. Itâs not going to grow, meld, incorporate, or do anything weird. We need to design an instantaneous water heater that looks like Brenda, thatâs all. It shouldnât be too hard!â Richard replied, confident of his engineering prowess.
âI wish I were there with you during that conversation, you come up with the most ridiculous fibs, dude!â Jack highlighted his own creative skills while shaking his head with disappointment at the same time.
âOh, yeah?â Richard challenged him. âAnd what exactly would you have said?â
âI would have approached the subject from an emotional angle, first of all,â Jack started expertly and then remembered. âWhat did you tell him about my cousin?â
âNothing!â Richard confessed. âI couldnât think of a single thing to say.â
âOh, man! This is a disaster!â Jack frowned. âJust give me a few minutes to compose myself, Iâll try to figure out a way to get this chestnut out of the fire, but youâre stretching my limits, man!â
They spent some time in silence, with only the shuffling of pages and thumping of books between them.
âYou know?â Richard couldnât help himself. âMaybe this is not the best place in the world to retreat to in order to come up with a scenario, not with that jolly librarian on our case constantly.â
âAs compared to what?â Jack replied. âYour house? The malt shop? School? At least this place is quiet enough for us to be able to think!â he frowned, irked by the interruption.
Richard spent the next couple of weeks trying to reconfigure Brenda to function as a water heater, a task that, as it is often the case, proved to be significantly more difficult in practice than its theory originally assumed. At the end of this time period, however, an updated version of Brenda was born, a little smaller than the first one, but just as strange looking.
âI still canât look at those tentacles, Snake!â Jack gave the mechanical jellyfish a dirty look. âNo offense to Brenda!â he corrected himself.
âPriorities, Jack!â Richard scolded him. âIf I donât come up with a Brenda heater by the end of this week there will be hell to pay!â
âHow is it coming?â Jack asked, eyeing the device with intense curiosity.
âNever you mind!â Richard retorted. âDid you come up with an explanation about your non-existent cousin?â
âOf course I did!â Jack replied, vexed that his friend could even suspect otherwise. âIt was because of the science fair regulations, which required the teams to consist of at least three people, and we didnât have a third, so we made one up.â
âBut the science fair is no longer in the picture, remember?â Richard pointed out.
âPay attention, Richard! Doesnât matter what is or isnât right now, it made sense inside the original premise, the one we have to explain! This thing is harder to keep track of than a soap opera. What was next? Aah, yes, the surprise,â he remembered. âWhy did we want to keep it a surprise?â he asked Richard, who again was caught unawares.
âYou never think these things through,â Jack chastised him, shaking his head again. âWe wanted to keep it a surprise because everybody is bothered by the plant and since our device is kind of based on plant biology, we worried that it might make people uncomfortable,â he explained, as if describing the proper set-up of a scene from a movie.
Jack approached the synthetic jellyfish again.
âIâm not sure Iâd trust this thing with the hot water pipe, what if it sinks its hooks in it and refuses to let go?â he said.
âItâs just programmed to grab hold of anything that looks like a tube. See?â he demonstrated, slightly touching the quivering tentacles with one of his fingers. Brenda grabbed onto it eagerly, to Jackâs dismay.
âWow, dude, donât do this to me, I donât want to see this thing chew your finger off!â he flinched.
âSheâs a sweetheart,â Richard defended his synthetic pet, âtotally harmless.â
âHow does she let go of it?â Jack asked, and watched as his friend tapped Brenda on the head, prompting the mechanical jellyfish to release his finger.
âI donât know about the utility of this object, but it sure is entertaining,â Jack giggled. âAre you sure it needs to be a water heater? We could turn it into a toy,â he suggested, but his friend ignored him and immersed himself in his work.
In the meantime, back at the factory, some of the workers slowly started populating the plantâs bio-dome with light furniture and tropical plants, which attracted birds and small wildlife to create a little garden for winter weary people.
The dome was large enough now to be noticeable from the Belvedere point, and, if one were to adhere to Richardâs smoke hissing dragon metaphor, one would have noticed that the dragon had grown a little chubby.
From the height and distance of the observation deck this organic addition to the factory assets looked like a strange Noahâs Ark, upside down and gleaming in the sunshine, filled with life to protect, indifferent to opinions and human priorities, the ultimate triumph of nature, benevolent and gleeful in its will to survive.
In the few moments he afforded himself for relaxation, with the deadline of his project looming, Richard sometimes liked to walk to the look out point, watch the city that bustled with life in the valley below and wonder how things might have turned out differently if he didnât, in a manner of speaking, help bring this new life into the world, however strange and unsettling it was.
At times like these he stopped thinking of this large living conglomerate in terms of good or bad. One doesnât question whether the squirrels or the lions, or the grass of the plain, are good or bad, they just are, and so is the sun in the sky and the snow on the mountains. When you open your eyes to life and see them for the first time, you donât judge whether they belong or whether you belong. The wholeness of being is a shared experience and it is laid down before you, to provide the fabric and the context of your life.
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The plant reached the back wall and went through it, as if it didnât encounter any resistance, as if the wall wasnât there at all. It was very strange how the two systems crossed without interacting, like they belonged to parallel realities, or different time lines. There didnât seem to be a wall cavity where the hybrid pipe penetrated it, and through the vaguely translucent material of the new branch one could actually see that.
Nobody questioned the new development, for more reasons than one, but mostly because after having lived with this constantly changing story for a while, about the plant that wouldnât go away, people got kind of tired of worrying about it all the time. Everybody acknowledged the wall penetration that wasnât there and simply put it out of their mind, in order to ensure life as they knew it continued to make sense. Those who couldnât ignore it, because they stumbled upon itâs intrusive presence in their daily activity, simply refused to talk about it, or acknowledge its presence, and went on about their daily lives, overseeing the operations of the hybrid bio-machinery, which, for what it was worth, increased its output again, by another twenty percent.
As projected, the plant bloomed abundantly, and the harvest of petals was so heavy with iron and tin that it weighed the nets down, like a veritable miraculous catch. The sheer quantity of metal that required processing pushed the foundry project to the front burner. The design team worked around the clock to produce and coordinate the plans for it and the next few months passed in a flurry of construction activity, frustration over having to deal with the plant in places one couldnât anticipate it would go and concern that the storage facilities were vastly undersized for the anticipated production.
Jack and Richard decided to lay low for a while, now that Jackâs cousinâs project had already been submitted to the science fair, awaiting evaluation.
âHow was your day, hon?â Carol asked Tom at the dinner table, as it was the family custom.
âI donât want to talk about it,â the latter replied sharply, then, realizing that he had been inexplicably harsh, turned towards the children for help. âAny news about your science project, Ricky? You havenât mentioned it lately,â he asked his eldest son, who flinched at the sound of the reviled diminutive.
âNot yet, dad. There are a lot of projects in the competition, theyâre not going to finish evaluating them until the beginning of summer,â he said.
âThat was quite something, what you did there! What was it, anyway? It looked like a mechanical jellyfish!â he enticed his son to talk about one of his favorite subjects, thus avoiding the fact that the last thing in the universe he wanted to remember during family dinner was that stupid plant, which seemed to be mocking him, was always in his face.
Richard started talking about the bio-similar engine he had supposedly been designing, with a lot less enthusiasm than anticipated. The description of the deviceâs components and function was actually correct, for the most part, but the thought of dear Brenda living its altered purpose somewhere in the entrails of the giant plant haunted him. Fortunately for him his sister interrupted him to ask their father when they were going to get the puppy he promised.
Tom reached for this unexpected rescue rope like it was salvation itself, and the rest of dinner was dedicated to the qualities and defects of the various dog breeds, details regarding their care and feeding, and assigning dog responsibilities to all the family members, on a carefully put together schedule meant to grace the refrigerator door. When the dog discussion was exhausted he turned to his next best hope, Carol, who always had something to say, usually touching upon light, cheerful and inconsequential subjects, guaranteed not to give anybody indigestion.
Carol gracefully obliged, regaling the family with a spellbinding story about the way they had changed items from one side of the grocery store to the other, move which made the flow through the isles while shopping a little more logical, but took some getting used to. She then gave a detailed account of what seasonal items they did or did not have available, and mentioned she saw Mrs. Jenkins, who was also out food shopping, but the latter was way on the other side of the store and didnât see her when she waved. Carol carefully kept out of the narrative the fact that she had ran into three or four acquaintances while shopping, all of whom were none too eager to complain about the plant, the wall, the pipe manifold that wasnât, the unfairness of life and in a more general context, the end of time.
After dinner, Tom encouraged Richard to go out and meet with his friends, concerned by his sonâs recent lack of interest in socializing, so the latter, to keep things running smoothly inside the family unit, decided to go to the malt shop, where he hoped might run into Jack.
Jack wasnât there, but the malt shop was packed full with other kids from school, so Richard stuck around anyway, in the hope of getting a fresh scoop on the plantâs latest exploits.
âI swear to you, Jane, that itâs Godâs honest truth! That plant went through the wall like it wasnât there!â the malt shop owner leaned towards her interlocutor, who gasped, shocked. Richard made an effort not to roll his eyes at the old news, and did his best to hide his disappointment with the fact that the entire evening portended to be a bust.
âYou do know what happened to the other one, right?â her partner of conversation commented, making Jack cock his ears.
âNo, I donât!â the malt shopâs owner drew closer, thrilled to find out something she didnât already know. To be totally honest, she had told the story of the plant and the wall so many times, even she couldnât fake excitement over it anymore.
âIt seems that it built itself a shell, like a little shelter, completely transparent, to keep out of the weather,â the second lady said. âHow did it made glass, you tell me?â she turned to the malt shop owner, to enjoy the stunned look on her face. To out gossip the master was not an easy feat, and an aspiration she had had for years.
âNo!â the malt shop owner replied, in disbelief. âGet out of here, that canât be true!â she made sure to confirm the accuracy of her source.
âAs I live and breathe, I saw it with my own two eyes!â the lady protested.
The malt shop owner evaluated the truthfulness of her words with a probing stare, and then, satisfied with the results, carefully stashed this delightful scoop on top of the pile of fresh news to spread.
âNow, thatâs something worth getting out of the house for,â Richard thought, both awed and scared by the plantâs amazing abilities to adapt to its environment.
It became clear as day to him, and he wondered why he didnât think about it before, that the plant and the pipe system, and whatever else this conjoined entity cared to put forth, formed a living being together, with needs and purpose, and most of all, a fierce survival instinct.
âOf course,â Richard thought, âif I had the ability to grow shelter around myself, thatâs the first thing I would do, too!â
He immediately made plans to go see the transparent shell for himself, and was a little disappointed that of all times, Jack wasnât there now, to share his news and plans with him. Richard finished his vanilla float and went home with a new pep in his step, which strengthened his fatherâs conviction that getting the boy to socialize more was doing him a world of good.
Between then and the next Saturday, Jack and Richard made arrangements to go visit plant number two and see its wonder shell. Spring was drawing near, and the little dwellers of the desert had started to get out of their winter burrows, a little hesitant and shivering in the crisp sunshine. The boys could see the transparent shell of the plant as soon as they turned onto the dirt trail that led to the hot springs, and it looked like it was floating over the swamp, creating its own micro-climate in which creatures big and small sought food and shelter from cold and danger. The critters moved around the plant undaunted by its metal leaves and stems, attracted by its warmth, protected from predators by its dense foliage inside which many of them had built nests and burrows to protect their young.
Inside this glass enclosure it wasnât just the plant and its metal extensions who determined the actions of this new being, but all the birds, and mice, and swamp plants, and frogs, and water spiders, and dragonflies.
âLook at this, Snake! Itâs like a greenhouse oasis!â
Jack stared at the strange hybrid entity, which was so blatantly teaming with life, and which looked quite content, thank you very much, despite the unpleasant smells that emanated from the muddy hot spring where its life began.
âItâs a living thing, Jack, the whole thing is a living thing!â Richard exclaimed, forgetting his resentment towards the monster that ate his beloved interface, and hoped that Brenda was reasonably happy synchronizing whatever she was synchronizing inside the plantâs metallic shell.
âA smart living thing,â Jack said, dancing around the concept of sentience, which was a little hard for him to swallow. âYou donât know where this plant is coming from, man. It may be an alien intelligence for all you know,â he revived his theories on extraterrestrials and their surreptitious intrusion on human lives, a concept Richard found strangely comforting for once, given the circumstances.
âIf it is, it seems very protective of life,â Richard said, watching the little swarm of activity, eerily similar to an ant farm as seen through the transparent shell. âHave you ever thought about this, Jack? This plant increased production by what, close to sixty percent now? It yields raw material worth building a foundry, has cut the heating bills to nothing, and other than the fact that it is hot and slightly electrically charged, both things intrinsic to its nature, hasnât done anybody any harm. Why do you think everybody is so hell-bent on destroying it?â
âHow about the fact that it made having any control over the factory equipment and processes impracticable, went through a brick wall without putting a hole in it and it will probably expand into infinity and take over the earth?â Jack played devilâs advocate.
âIt is a sentient living entity and we have the moral responsibility to allow it to develop in whatever way it sees fit,â Richard uttered the s word, to Jackâs great displeasure.
âItâs hardly sentient,â Jack said. âItâs just genetically programmed to look after itself.â
âBy copying an entire branch of an industrial design that took people years to optimize,â Richard defended his argument.
âParrots can talk, that doesnât make them intelligent,â Jack debated.
âWhat about that time when it changed its mind and refused to go into the storage room?â his friend countered.
âCoincidence,â Jack replied. âWhat about the time when it headed straight through a brick wall into an environment that doesnât support its development?â
âMaybe it realized it was able to mitigate that,â Richard countered.
âI donât believe it knew that before it busted out,â Jack protested, frustrated. âYou wouldnât go out of the house in winter without a coat!â
âActually, I might, you know, if the sun was shining and Iâd never been outside before,â Richard defended the plant. âHow would I know itâs cold?â
âThis is a completely ridiculous argument,â Jack said.
âYou brought it up, Iâm just expanding your hypothesis,â his friend didnât want to let go.
âItâs just a plant, dude! A scare the living out of me metal producing, glass domed, three hundred degrees of steam wonât kill it, canât cut it with a power saw plant! There is no more intelligence inside it than there is in this one over here,â he pointed to a fragile dandelion sprout that had decided to brave the whims of weather very early, just to get a head start on the season.
âHow about the way it welcomed Brenda?â Richard found another example.
âYou designed Brenda to âtalkâ to the plant!â Jack protested.
âI didnât design the plant to incorporate it into its structure,â Richard said.
âMaybe it swallows everything you put in its path, like an ostrich!â Jack got frustrated.
âIt didnât swallow any of the people,â Richard offered.
âYet,â Jack finally voiced his unspoken concern.
âCome on, Jack! If it wanted to harm us it would have done it by now! Itâs been, what, six, seven months?â Richard argued, vexed that his friend would even think such a thing.
âDonât come whining to me if you find yourself providing as a human extension to our leafy overlord here,â Jack mumbled under his breath. âAt least then it will have real talking capabilities,â Jack got tired of defending his argument, but still didnât want to let his friend have the last word.
The construction of the new foundry found itself in competition with the plantâs efforts to build itself a new enclosure, since the portion of it that was out of doors found itself exposed to the elements and rushed to remedy this unfavorable circumstance. As strange as it seems, the factory workers made it a point of pride to one up the prolific intruder, unwilling to be outdone on their own turf. Finishing ahead of the plant provided them with a small, but morally significant victory, which lessened a bit the sting of fighting a lesser life form that had the ability to replicate pipe structures.
Everybody was reluctant to venture into the plantâs dome at first, because many suggested that once inside the belly of the beast there was no way a person would ever come out, but as it is with all human endeavors, a gutsy few decided to risk taking fate into their own hands and debunked the superstition.
âYou can add building shelter to its list of beneficial features,â Richard bragged.
âWouldnât it bother you to live in the dry land equivalent of a coral reef?â Jack asked. âThere is no rhyme or reason to this structure, itâs soâŠâ Jack turned his nose at it.
âOrganic?â Richard laughed. âNot if I donât have to lift a finger to obtain it,â he replied. âAnd I assure you, if you didnât have a roof over your head, you wouldnât care either.â
âI was going to say amorphous,â Jack didnât relent.
Just in time for the foundryâs ribbon cutting, the plant bloomed again, as a peace offering to its inconvenienced human companions, to provide their new enterprise with fresh material for the beginning of production.
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While the town analyzed the feasibility studies for a new foundry, Richard kept refining his prototype until he brought it from the size of a table to that of a giant jellyfish. It looked like a jellyfish too, with one side smooth and rounded, glimmering with strange colored lights when its sensitive insides were stimulated by bouncing electrons, and the other featuring long and flexible transparent tubes, which moved of their own accord, like weird tentative tentacles trying to feel their way around their surroundings. The tubes twitched when the hot sap moved through them.
For all his open-mindedness, Jack was reluctant to touch the strange contraption, expecting it to be cold and slimy, like the skin of a frog.
âGet that thing away from me, man! It looks alive!â he recoiled.
âI sure hope so. She is,â Richard responded, his eyes shining with pride. âDon't you be mean to her!â he placed the squirming artificial jellyfish back in its box while giving Jack the evil eye.
âIt's a she?â Jack laughed. âWhat do you mean she's alive?â
âBrenda. She is part plant, sort of,â Richard frowned, not knowing exactly what to call a synthetic entity that needed to eat and could feel touch, and whose sap flowed through its transparent tubes grace to the steady pulse of an artificial heart.
âWho's Brenda?â Jack teased.
âMy grandmother,â Richard deflated his excitement.
âHave you finished it?â Jack asked, pulling closer to give the artificial jellyfish a closer look, and couldn't help flinching when the creature twitched its long tentacles unexpectedly. âHoly smokes!â he jumped backwards, freaked out. Richard started laughing.
âPretty much! Care to accompany us to the factory and witness the big unveiling?â he asked.
âWouldn't miss it for the world! When are we going?â Jack asked, still eyeing the gizmo with apprehension. âOh, please, dude, put a lid on that box, that thing looks like it's staring at me!â
âSaturday, I think,â Richard covered Brenda, to make his friend happy. âI just want to make sure nobody's going to be there, they're surveying the factory endlessly since they started evaluating the plans for its expansion.â
They started out bright and early on a dreary Saturday, when mother nature added another challenge to the boys' full schedule of making excuses for the use of their time: they now had to explain to their parents what kind of rocks were so important to their school project that they justified braving the whims of the weather in the middle of wilderness.
They walked, wretched, in the soupy drizzle, not talking much, chilled to the bone and trying to keep dry as best they could.
âNice day you picked for us, Snake!â Jack complained, shivering.
âThe worse it is, the lower our chances to find somebody else there,â Richard felt obligated to defend himself.
The factory floor was empty, its machinery glistening in the shade of the exuberant plant, and stretchy steel nets in various stages of installation were following the green and coppery contours of the plant canopy, graceful and moving in the currents of the air conditioning flow, like a delicate veil. The boys had reached shelter just in time, before a howling wind whipped the rain against the window and dragged gloomy clouds across the sky.
âNot a moment too soon, man!â Jack shuddered as he looked out the window at a sky that got darker and darker as the bulk of the storm clouds approached. âWhat now?â
âLet's bring Brenda to meet her kin,â Richard joked.
He pulled the jellyfish out of the box and placed it gently on a large branch of the vine, close to a junction point with the pipe. Brenda wrapped her arms really tight against the vine and started extending a network of almost invisible mycelia into it. The vine started thickening visibly at that location, as if trying to make more of its sap available to the strange new graft. Brenda extended a second set of tentacles that attached themselves securely to the pipe structure.
âSo, how does it work?â Jack asked, suddenly more amenable to Brenda's strange look, now that he saw it in its natural environment, so to speak.
The interface's screen lit up in a sequence of colors and densities that looked like colorful pudding swirling in a blender.
âThe color variations tell us whether the plant and the distribution manifold are synchronized for optimal utility,â Richard explained. âRight now the pipes are a couple of degrees off. Watch this!â he said, and started adjusting the environmental controls of that factory zone, with the careful and meticulous moves one would utilize to find a precise radio wavelength inside a sea of static.
The display ceased its candy colored swirls and settled on a bright green gradient, shimmery like the surface of the ocean.
âDid you actually change the temperature for the entire distribution manifold?â Jack couldn't believe his eyes.
âOnly by a couple of degrees,â Richard replied, very calm.
âYou're going to blow us up to smithereens! You don't know what a two degree temperature change will do to the system!â Jack protested.
âAs a matter of fact, I do. It's going to do absolutely nothing. It's way within the range of tolerances,â Richard answered.
âOk, now that you synchronized whatever it was that you wanted to synchronize, go grab Brenda and let's get out of here, before somebody comes in, it seems the storm is letting off,â Jack suggested, looking out the window to try to convince himself of that fact.
The storm insisted on contradicting his words, and a new gust of wind blew the rain against the glass panes with an eerie howl.
âLet's just wait for a few more minutes, I want to see what the plant does,â Richard insisted.
âWhatever it does, it's not going to do it in a few more minutes. We'll come in tomorrow, if you want,â he promised, even though he knew it would be near impossible to alter their Sunday schedule in any way. âPlease, Richard, let's go!â Jack begged his friend. He glanced out the window and noticed a gap in the unrelenting cloud cover, and he figured this was their one chance to get home before the storm worsened. âSee the sky over there?â he pointed to it, for Richard's benefit. âIf we don't leave now, we're going to have to spend the night here.â
Richard agreed to leave, very reluctantly, and went to pick up Brenda, which grabbed on to the vine for dear life and refused to budge.
âI can't remove the interface!â Richard yelled. âIt attached itself permanently to the system.â
âAnd you never anticipated this eventuality while you were working on the prototype?â Jack asked.
âWhy would I consider it?â Richard asked.
âBecause the plant already attached itself to any piece of equipment it ever interacted with?â Jack pointed to the evidence.
âIt welds itself to metal, that doesn't mean it can interact with everything,â Richard defended his concept. âBrenda is not made of metal.â
âWhat is Brenda made of?â Jack asked.
âSynthetic bio-material, based on the system logic and structure of plant cells,â Richard explained, in a calm tone of voice that sounded somewhat sinister to his friend, given the circumstances.
âI can't imagine why a plant would choose to incorporate a graft from another plant, synthetic or otherwise!â Jack taunted him.
âThe point is we can't remove Brenda, I already burned myself trying, see?â Richard showed his friend his arm and the superficial burn on it, reenacting, in a strange flashback, his father's dinner table outburst. âWe can't leave her here, she's the first thing they're going to see when they show up on Monday!â he panicked.
âWe can try to cover her with something,â Jack suggested.
âLike what?â Richard asked.
âI don't know, netting?â Jack looked up at the slinky metal veil.
âHow is that going to be any less obvious?â Richard said, as the storm started to relent.
âWe really need to go, Snake! See for yourself,â Jack encouraged his friend to verify the situation. Outside the clouds menaced, as if upset by the boys' cavalier approach to the complex web of causality and its undeniable consequences in regards to daily living. âThey're going to find her eventually, what difference do a couple of days make?â Jack pleaded.
Richard didn't want to abandon his pride and joy, whom he had become very attached to over his weeks of research and concept refinement, but after a somewhat sarcastic reassurance from Jack that Brenda was with family now, and she would be ok, they decided to call retreat and leave her behind.
They got home just in time to avoid getting soaked to the bone and arouse their parents' suspicions. Richard spent the whole weekend in torment, worrying about a million different ways in which the abandoned interface, now the subject of his unbearable guilt, was going to get them in trouble the moment it was discovered.
Monday rolled in, then Tuesday, then a whole week went by. It seemed very strange that nobody noticed the device, or said anything about it, so Richard decided to go to the factory the following Saturday and see for himself what was going on. Upon reaching the place where he had left dear Brenda the week before, he was in for a surprise: the plant had completely incorporated the interface, and other than the swelling around the graft placement, there was no visible sign of the device left to see now. Richard exhaled hard, not able to believe his good luck, and promised to himself to keep out of trouble for the time being. He ran all the way back to town and headed straight to their usual hangout to find Jack and give him the good news.
âWhat do you mean the plant ate Brenda?!â Jack jumped to his feet, forgetting he was in a library, where quietude and decorum were strictly enforced. âAnd why is that supposed to be the good news?â he looked at his friend, wretched. âWhat do you think the plant is going to do with the capability to affect its environmental controls?â
âBrenda is not just about the temperature and pressure changes,â Richard started explaining the extensive features of his device.
âNever mind!â Jack retorted, stunned that his friend didn't seem to grasp the consequences of this new development. âI think it's safe to say that if the plant fused to the pipe distribution system and the two are now one, down to the molecular level, the fact that it had incorporated the interface gives it the means to control its environment. You just handed it the remote, Snake!â
âIt's not exactly...â Richard said.
âThat's exactly what it is. In fact, I think you just gave it magical powers over the temperature and humidity in that hall, it will be able to change them at will now,â Jack continued his doom and gloom scenario.
âDo you really think the plant is that smart?â Richard's eyes gleamed with pride for his protege and its expansionist tastes.
âThat's not a good thing! Stop smiling!â Jack snapped at him, then pondered the situation for a bit. âWell, at least there is no imminent trouble for us in the near future, since the perpetrator had swallowed its victim whole, like a boa constrictor. I can only hope Frankenplant doesn't come after us next!â he displayed theatrical despair.
Another week passed, and the next Saturday the boys, at Jack's great insistence, went to the factory to evaluate the consequences of their latest bungle.
âI miss Brenda,â Richard said wistfully.
âI have an idea! Why don't you make another one and bring it here, connect it to the plant, see what happens?â Jack replied.
âThat's enough, Jack! What on earth could possibly happen that hasn't already?â Richard stopped him, exasperated.
âThis!â Jack pointed to an entire section of the manifold that they haven't seen before. âWas this always here?â
âNo,â Richard said.
âAre you sure?â Jack insisted.
âAbsolutely positive! I know the equipment like the back of my hand,â his friend confirmed.
âDo you think they installed it last week?â Jack asked.
âWith plant in it?â Richard pointed out. âBesides, it doesn't look like the other one.â
They both stared at the new branch of the pipe manifold, whose metal looked somewhat uneven, lumpy, like it had been made by hand. Its surface was almost translucent, and upon closer look the boys thought they could vaguely distinguish the contours of a tuberous root system through the plethora of leaves surrounding the tube.
âOh, we're in big trouble now, dude!â Jack stared ominously at Richard, who didn't know what to say.
âWhat do you think we should do?â he asked, eventually.
âDon't look at me, I do creative truth interpretation, I don't do plant apocalypse,â Jack retorted. âThis is all yours, enjoy!â
âWell, I guess we should all relax and see what happens next,â Richard suggested.
âYou do that, man!â Jack patted him on the back.
âWhy do you think nobody said anything about this? There is no way something this big could have gone unnoticed!â Richard asked, staring at the shiny new system expansion, perplexed.
âMy guess is everybody thought some other team installed it, they don't always talk to each other about their work schedules,â Jack said.
âLucky us, huh?â Richard commented, a little taken aback.
âSome luck!â Jack replied. âSo, what do you think happened to Brenda?â he continued.
âIf I were to guess, the plant has the equivalent of an artificial hip now,â Richard replied.
âWhere is this branch going?â Jack asked, and a new wave of dread crashed over the two. The expansion was headed straight towards the back wall, branching vigorously as it went nearer, like a river approaching the sea.
âYou don't think...â Richard looked at his friend, wide eyed.
âThink what!? That plantzilla is going to bust through the back wall? Oh, yes, I do! I do indeed!â Jack didn't cut him any slack.
âMaybe it will adjust itself, you know? Turn around. Dad said that the vine steered clear of the storage area,â Richard held on to hope.
âSure it will, Snake. That's exactly what it will do,â his friend mocked him.
âBut the wall is made of brick! It can't pass through brick, can it?â
âI guess we're going to find out really soon,â Jack replied.
âDon't you think one of the workers is going to notice that somebody is building a pipe branch poised to penetrate the exterior wall?â Richard followed logic.
âNot in this mess. Why would anybody question the only part of this la-la land that looks kind of normal?â
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âI don't understand this fantasy project of yours, what exactly is that interface you're talking about going to do?â Jack frowned, trying to make sense of his friend's idea.
âThink about it, what made the plant grow in the steam pipes in the first place?â Richard asked, and when he met Jack's befuddled gaze he answered his own question. âIt needs the high temperature and the pressure, but what if it's not in any range, but the precise one the distribution system functions at?â
He caught Jack's skeptical look and continued anyway. âOf course there will be no way of really knowing that until our new cutting takes root.â
âIf our new cutting takes root,â Jack corrected him. âIt will be a true miracle if that plant sprouts roots, after two whole months.â
âWhen that cutting roots,â Richard said, as if he hadn't heard him, âgiven the different conditions, it will probably develop a different response to them.â Jack tried very hard to hide a yawn.
âThis is important, Jack!â his friend protested.
âSorry, man. What do I care if the stupid plant changes its response? It's a plant.â
âThat has evolved enough to turn all the machines back on, because it liked them that way,â Richard pointed out.
âSo what?â Jack retorted.
âI was thinking of synchronizing the plant and the machine, you know?â he looked at Jack, whose expression said he didn't. âFinding a way to know how much energy the plant feeds back into the system and what conditions it likes best.â
âI don't understand a thing you're saying, dude. Whatever! What do you want me to do?â Jack interrupted him.
âI need you to find a reason to get me out of the house every day for three hours,â Richard replied.
âI'm not a miracle worker, Richard!â Jack protested.
âDon't be modest, Jack! If anybody can cook up a story that would stand on its end, it's you!â Richard encouraged him. Jack shook his head, flattered but still uncertain.
âI'll think of something,â he eventually agreed. âI'm not promising anything, mind you!â he pointed out to Richard. âDon't get your hopes up,â he warned.
The story of how Richard built a synthetic biology interface between the plant and the machine paled in comparison with the tale his friend concocted for him to supplant it, tale that involved a never before heard of second cousin of his from out of town, the latter's life-long dream to participate in a science competition for school age children that didn't exist, the challenge of a theoretical engine that ran on bio-fuel, ample library time for writing down the research papers, and the justification for building a gizmo whose function nobody could possibly understand.
Richard was thrilled, and had to admit that his friend had gone above and beyond in his ability to reshape people's perceptions in order to accommodate their current needs. Not only did Jack give him the three hours he requested, but he also produced an explanation for the device, which was kind of too large to hide, a pre-approved list of parts Richard couldn't do without and a reasonable justification for parts he might need in the future that he might have left out.
The construction of the device advanced slowly, and the more it progressed, the less the gizmo made sense to anybody who saw it. It looked like a miniature robot and behaved like a plant, moving hot sap through its transparent tubes, with a cathodic tube at one end and what could only be described as roots at the other.
Richard's parents and siblings saw the weird device, and even though it was a lot more peculiar than the boy's usual fare, they didn't think twice about it. Stacey even joked that it looked like a plant that blooms television sets.
âHow are we going to transport this to the factory?â Jack exclaimed the first time he saw the semi-finished device. Richard gestured impatiently, to convey that was the least of his concerns.
âThis is just a prototype, the final object is going to be a lot smaller,â he commented.
âThank goodness for that! It would be kind of difficult to explain bringing beautiful here to the factory floor,â Jack said, relieved.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the arid outskirts of the city, from a hot, somewhat smelly swamp, a little sprout emerged, a little hesitant at first, but then, feeling established, it unfurled its leaves and tendrils and asserted exclusive rights over its sweltering home and weaved itself through the rusty pipes and scraps of metal that Richard and Jack had brought to feed it.
It looked so different from the plant at the factory, due to the differences in water solutes, temperature and pressure, that the team who had volunteered their efforts to nip in the bud any expansion of the plant beyond the factory floor didn't recognize it at first, especially since many of them, who weren't working there, haven't actually seen the original. It took the complaint of a weekend sight-seer, who claimed a hot plant pinched her when she touched it, to make them give the eager sprout a second look.
When the identity of the plant was confirmed, a new wave of concerns and suppositions overtook the city. Some feared the plant had emerged spontaneously in the remote hot spring, and would expand until it filled their entire universe with hot leaves. Others pointed out that it couldn't survive outside of its compatible environment, which was quite limited in size. Most agreed that somebody must have planted it, and offered their suspicions about who that might be.
Evidently, Richard and Jack's names never entered their minds, first of all because everybody knew, by the grace of Carol's maternal boasting, that the boys have been spending all of their time working to help Jack's cousin with his science fair project, and besides, how would they have access to the plant when they had never stepped foot on the factory floor?
The fact that the plant had sprouted in the middle of winter was even more worrisome, and people had to wonder what was going to happen when hot weather came along and sped-up its growth even more.
In the tumult of opinion and fact finding the team of experts was convened again, to offer advice on managing the interaction, rather than eliminating it. Some of the town folk refused to show up to the town hall meetings this time, objecting that giving up their time too on top of a revolting fee for no results at all was simply insulting their intelligence.
Jack and Richard, on the other hand, didn't miss a single minute of them, eager to collect as much detail about the current state of affairs as possible.
âWe are expecting the plant to bloom soon, probably in the next couple of weeks or so,â one of the experts was explaining as the two boys sneaked in to their now regular seats up in the balcony.
âAnd why does that matter to us at all?â somebody protested.
âUsually, when plants prepare for the production offspring, they intensify their metabolic processes,â the expert continued.
âWhich means it is going to generate even more energy?â the person in the audience said.
âMost likely,â the expert agreed. âIn fact we anticipate a significant increase in output, probably in the neighborhood of forty percent.â
âGreat! We'll have the stupid plant run our lives even more than it already is!â somebody commented bitterly, stirring a little cloud of discontent above the audience.
âWe thought this would be good news!â the expert commented, surprised.
âDid anybody give any thought to the fact that when those beautiful and most likely poisonous blossoms fade, they're going to rain hot metal on top of our heads?â a lady from the back said. She had had some experience with growing the plant's normal relative, the Carolina Jessamine, and knew what to expect. âThey're a lot of blossoms, too,â she added.
âWe should probably stretch some nets overhead to catch the petals as they fall,â the expert replies. âNow that I think of it, this would be a great opportunity to claim the metal inside them with the least amount of effort.â
âWhat I think is that we should install a couple of trapezes too, to go with that,â a sarcastic voice from the back replied. âYou know, for the full circus experience!â
âThere is no need for snarky remarks,â the expert countered, âthis may provide the factory with a great opportunity to expand its scope.â
âWe're a power plant, not a foundry!â a person protested.
âWait a minute! Why not expand? This would be great!â somebody else contradicted him.
âThat's seasonal work, it's not worth the investment in the equipment,â the first person retorted.
âWhat if we could entice the plant to produce year round?â a second expert suggested.
âYou can't entice the plant to get the heck out of there!â a gruff voice replied. âHow are you going to 'entice' it into continuous bloom?â
âActually, it's still a plant, there are all sorts of ways to trick it into bloom: special nutrients, artificial seasonal changes, grafting, there are ways,â the second expert started offering solutions, happy to present his current research.
âYou want to super-feed this monster?â the lady in the back replied, terrified. âIs it not taking over the universe enough as it is? And what are you going do when the blooming stops, you're going to exhaust it pretty fast if you're forcing it into bloom like that?â
âWe should be so lucky!â the gruff voice snapped. âIt will never die, this thing! Did you see how it took off back there, in the swamp?â
âYes, we really need to find out how it got there,â somebody jumped immediately. A little group congealed around this opinion and the whole discussion took a detour in that direction for a while.
âOne can only wonder,â Jack whispered to Richard, still bitter over the process through which the plant had found a home in the smelly hot spring.
âShh!â Richard said. âI just got an idea!â
âGod help us!â Jack mumbled under his breath, scared by his friend's potential prospect. The latter ignored him, so Jack turned his attention back to the meeting.
âSo, say we build a foundry, there aren't enough people in this city to run it and the steam plant at the same time,â a gentleman in the front row brought up the obvious challenge.
âWe should be so lucky to have this problem,â the gruff voice replied, because lately he had been worrying about the security of his position, and was happy to find himself blessed with additional options.
âI guess we could give the petal foundry idea a try,â a shift manager spoke, trying very hard to keep a straight face as he proposed this unlikely expansion of the factory scope.
âDid that sound batty to anybody else?â another person said. He had arrived late and was standing in the isle because they couldn't find a seat. âI thought I heard somebody say petal foundry.â
âWe can call it high performance integrated hybrid energy reclamation complex if that makes you feel better,â the shift manager replied, touchy.
âAnd what exactly do you expect this aberration of nature to do for us?â the guy replied. âOther than give our current customers a good laugh?â
âHow about open another field for our products?â the shift manager said.
âSee?â Richard turned to Jack, eyes shining. âI told you the metallurgy thing was going to be big!â
âUntil we're overtaken by the wrath of the steely swamp dweller,â Jack mumbled. âDoesn't it concern you that that plant can root on bare rock if it had to? What if somebody puts it in their hot water tank?â
âSomebody might try to stick their head in the oven, too, but we're still going to continue cooking our food,â Richard replied.
âOnly in our case we can never turn the oven off, or change its temperature,â Jack found the fly in the ointment.
âAnd that's where my plant-steam pipe interface comes in,â Richard was thrilled to return to his latest area of interest, and then went on a tangent trying to explain to his friend how the device worked.
âYou scare me sometimes, you know?â
Jack stared at him intently, and then let the reluctant smile freeze on his face because right behind them, and having listened to the whole chat, was Mrs. Jenkins, who seemed very interested in the subject of their conversation.
Jack's mind took off at a hundred miles an hour, trying to recall if any of them had said anything incriminating and wondering if there was any 'hypothetically speaking' in Richard's description of the device's function.
âWhy, if I don't run into you two in the darndest of places! What could you possibly find of interest in here, at your age?â she said, puzzled rather than upset. âThey have to make me attend these snooze fests, I'd rather be out shopping, or grabbing a coffee with my friends. Are your parents here?â she brought the boys' anxiety to a peak. âWhy aren't you with them?â
Richard threw a lightning fast glance at Jack, hoping against reason that the latter would, by some miracle, manage to come up with a way out of this one.
âWe had to finish our homework, Mrs. Jenkins, and our parents didn't want to be late for the meeting, so they allowed us to catch up with them later,â Jack said, his face the mirror of truthfulness itself.
Mrs. Jenkins, who in her thirty years of teaching had listened to a fair share of fibs and innovative excuses, didn't trust their explanation any more than she would accept the world was flat, but didn't want to pursue this issue any further, because her free time was limited as it was, and she didn't want to spend it enforcing discipline on teenagers.
âJust make sure they know where you are, this place becomes a zoo at times like this. You should be heading home soon, anyway. Isn't this a school night?â she reminded them, smiling.
âYes, Mrs. Jenkins,â the boys replied together with all the innocence they could muster, and hurried past her towards the auditorium doors, relieved to have gotten out so easy.
âHow does this always happen?â Richard protested, tense.
âYou should be the one to ask, you and your crazy projects!â Jack retorted bitterly, still shaken over the close encounter.
âHow is this in any way my fault?â Richard's tension exploded.
âEch!â Jack dismissed him, for lack of an explanation.
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The news that the plant restarted all the machines spread through the town at lightning speed. Most people didn't believe it, pointing out that it was more likely that somebody with a peculiar sense of humor decided to pull a prank. Others ventured less benign explanations, covering the entire range from alien conspiracies (apparently Jack was not alone in his search for extraterrestrial involvement) to the impending apocalypse.
Regardless of the explanation, all the town's folks were nervous, in equal parts due to the unexplained nature of the occurrence and its potential impact on the future of the factory.
Nobody managed to figure out how the vine got into the steam pipes, and even less on how it changed itself to survive in such a hostile environment, but the botanists finally managed to figure out what kind of plant it was. It seemed to be a distant relative of the Carolina Jessamine vine, poor man's rope, as they called it, at least that's what it started out as, before it mutated twice and shed its biological shell to evolve into a partly inorganic hybrid.
Despite all the hype around external intervention, alien, divine or otherwise, the scientific basis of what had happened to facilitate the evolution the plant into what it was now was quite self-explanatory, which made the cascading sequence of consequences even more difficult to accept, because, in people's minds, nothing this straightforward should have been allowed to radically change life as they knew it. The scientists' theory about alternate electron transfer between one side of the pipe and the other, transfer that put the pipe itself in a perpetual state of flux, became a very popular subject of conversation around the dinner table, and even young children became adept at reproducing it adequately, even if not understanding it completely. After a while, the concept of a plant that self-welds to metal stopped raising eyebrows in the community, even in its most skeptical of members.
The only entity not in the least affected by the commotion was the plant itself, which minded its chlorophyll driven life quietly, happy to thrive in its new environment. The production output went up another ten percent during the following month, but everybody was too spooked by the strange bio-mechanical monster to notice.
Overall nothing had changed, other than the impressive increase in the factory's output, nothing, that is, if one could bring oneself to ignore the giant presence in the middle of the floor, whose coppery-green mass of leaves, sprouts and curlicues filled up every nook and cranny between the pieces of machinery. Nobody could.
âI can't deal with this!â Tom blurted at the dinner table, frustrated, while Carol tried to maintain a pleasant family atmosphere, for the benefit of everyone's digestion.
âI'm sure it's not that bad, honey! What can it possibly do to annoy you, it's just a plant,â she tried to appease him.
âIt's not just a plant! It's evil spawn, I tell you, the malevolent sprout from ⊠you know where!â he said, remembering Carol's ban on mentioning evil inside the house. âNothing alive should be able to thrive at three hundred degrees!â Tom fumed, even more irate. âLook at this! Look! Look! Have you seen this?!â he pointed to a burn on the back of his arm, burn that unfortunately didn't require an explanation. âI shouldn't be able to burn myself with foliage! Inside!â he ranted.
âHave you guys tried training it on a string?â Carol asked in an attempt to be helpful, unaware of the fact that the entire concept of interacting with plant life in the context of factory production was simply unthinkable to a technically minded person.
âNo, Carol! We haven't tried training it on a string! Should I be mindful of any other gardening practices? Do we need to fertilize it on occasion? Prune it, to keep it healthy? Oh, wait! We can't prune it! And you know why? Because it's made of metal and sprouted by the unholy one himself to bring misery to our lives!â he ranted, exasperated.
âNo need to take out your frustrations on me, I have my hands full around here too!â Carol protested, smiling reassuringly to the children. The girls rolled their eyes and returned to their side conversation, and Richard pretended not to pay attention, so he could get as much out of the discussion as he was able.
âI'm sorry, dear! We're all at wit's end. Yesterday we had clear out a whole section of storage before the menace found its way inside and wrecked the lot of it. It's like the cursed think has a mind of its own, I swear to you! After we were done clearing the space, the vine looped around itself and steered clear of the area altogether, and now we have to waste another day and move everything back,â he complained.
âWell, at least the output is not affected. Or the capacity,â Carol kept looking for the silver lining.
âIt's not our capacity, it's its capacity! Only God knows what it will do next! How can you be so calm?!â he snapped at his wife again.
âWhat can I do? I offered you a perfectly good suggestion and you dismissed it!â Carol commented, resentful.
âWhat!? Build teepees?â he asked her.
âKeep it out of the way. I thought it was a good idea, but then again, I'm not the one with the burn on my arm,â Carol sulked, offended. She frowned at Tom, to express disapproval at his behavior, and then got up with a smile, asking. âDoes anybody want dessert?â
â'Cause, God knows, pie will solve our every problem,â Tom mumbled under his voice, unable to help himself, and then said out loud. âThanks, hon, just a small piece. I'm full.â
After dinner, Richard suddenly remembered he had to borrow a book from the library in order to finish his homework, and sneaked out to meet with Jack.
âDo you still have that stem?â Richard asked him, without any introduction.
âYes. What do you need with it?â Jack asked, distracted. He was trying to figure out the schedule of the cheerful librarian, in the hope that they might be able to circumvent it in the future and thus avoid putting their foot in their mouth again. Every time she saw them she seemed to get another idea.
âI wonder if we could make it root. It propagates by cuttings, right?â Richard continued his thought process.
âRoot in what?â Jack asked.
âRemember those hot springs, just out of town?â Richard said.
âThat's like, ten miles away! Do you have to walk there?â Jack jumped, alarmed.
âActually, it's three, I checked,â Richard countered his objection.
âIt's not hot enough,â Jack threw another objection, because a three mile walk out of town wasn't his idea of fun.
âSays who?â Richard contradicted him.
âSays me. Besides, didn't they say the plant was a pest? Why would you want to make more of it?â Jack asked.
âBecause it grows steel wire,â Richard said, surprised that his friend didn't see the wonderful potential of the unlikely hybrid. âOut of nothing,â he pressed his point. âThink about it,â he dreamed, eyes shining, âa bright new future for metallurgy!â
âYeah, not feeling it, man,â Jack squashed his enthusiasm. âThose hot springs are kind of far, and there is always someone there, I don't know if it's worth the trouble. It's been a while, too, I don't know if that stem is viable anymore,â Jack tried to get himself out of this challenge.
âI can't believe you! After all the trouble you got me in, I ask you for one little thing, one! And you can't even do that! Come on, Jack, for me? Just this once!â Richard insisted.
âWhat are we going to do about the metal? What if it needs some to attach itself to?â Jack found another excuse.
âI know a junk yard not far from here. We can pick up some scrap metal there,â Richard came up with the solution. Jack kicked himself for coming up with this brilliant idea, because now they had added a trip to the city dump to their absurd attempt at helping metal self-replicate.
Jack had to give in to his friend's request, to get him out of his hair if for no other reason, and they set their plan in motion Saturday morning, bright and early, too early for Jack's taste. The fact that his reluctant effort at what he considered an absurd endeavor started knee deep in rusty sinks and half-devoured car carcasses didn't help boost his enthusiasm for it in the least, and he begrudgingly attended to his task, which was to find as many old pipes as he could, vowing never to get mixed up in one of Richard's projects again. After a couple of hours of intensive search, they finally started on their way to the hot springs, presenting a very odd view to the passerby, as they were carrying a ragged collection of metal rubble. With their faces covered in rust and their bodies overwhelmed by the quantity of metal scraps they were carrying, they looked like two little Tin Men, before being oiled, of course.
Richard was concerned about the amount of creativity they would require in order to make up a half-way believable story if they ran into someone they knew, but he didn't say anything to Jack, who was already upset, fact demonstrated by his sullen silence.
âIt's not far now,â Richard tried to cheer up his friend, despite the fact he knew full well they had only covered about a third of the distance.
âDon't talk to me!â Jack snapped at him, grunting under the weight of scrap metal, that felt a lot heavier than he anticipated when they left the junk yard.
âIt's for a good cause,â Richard tried to justify himself, if only not to feel guilty.
âThat's it! We're taking a break!â Jack dropped the entire load of junk to the ground.
âJack, come on, we still have ways to go, if we get there too late there may be people around,â he tried to convince his friend.
âFirst of all,â Jack said, as if he hadn't heard him, ânot withstanding the fact that we are planning to dump rusty metal in a hot water spring where people bathe, I'm not taking another step with this load of crap on my back until you explain to me in detail what we're going to do,â he sat on the ground, forcing Richard to do the same.
âIt is pretty simple, really,â the boy started explaining, with an enthusiasm he hoped would rub off on his friend. âWe're going to stick one of these pipes in a hot spring, plant the stem in it, and let nature take its course. We'll sprinkle the other pipes around for later, when it spreads.â
âWhat about the electric current, it's like putting a toaster in a bathtub,â Jack pointed out.
âWe'll find an abandoned spring,â Richard adjusted his original plan.
âI can't believe you talked me into this, I feel like an idiot walking three miles with a pile of scrap metal on my back,â Jack mumbled.
âJust think about it, Jack! A metal crop! And, as it grows, we can bring more old pipes to help it expand,â Richard continued.
âYou mean you expect us to do this regularly? No, dude! Just no! This one time, that's it!â Jack got up quickly, grabbing his load and picking up the pace to keep ahead of Richard's ideas.
Fortunately for them, they didn't run into anybody they knew on the way over there. They walked through the arid landscape, sweating buckets under the heavy load and wishing they had thought to bring a water bottle. They found a hot and kind of smelly swamp eventually, the kind of place that was sure to discourage potential bathers, and entrusted the plant cutting to it. Jack was relieved to be done with this absurd activity and rushed back with renewed energy. The return trip would have been a lot less unpleasant, given that they had been relieved of their loads, but just as they were starting to relax and enjoy their stroll, one of their teachers, Mrs. Jenkins, drove by, noticed their strange party, dirty and sweaty as they were, and covered with rust from top to bottom, and stopped her car to offer assistance.
âGreat! Now we're never getting out of the house again!â Jack whispered to Richard, really upset. âThanks, Snake! At least I will never have to come back here, maybe this is a blessing!â
âWhat are you boys up to, and what's on your clothes! I can't imagine what your parents are going to say when they see you! And so far away from home, too! Hop in, I'll give you a ride home, you can explain yourselves on the way,â Mrs. Jenkins prompted.
âYou shouldn't have ventured so far away from home at a time like this, well, with that cursed plant growing out of control and all,â she broke the silence, after she had given the two a few moments to volunteer the reason that had brought them to that particular location. âYour parents have enough on their mind right now without having to worry about you, too. And with the ideas some people have. Can you imagine some crazies thought it would be a good idea to cultivate that pest? Who in his right mind would even consider such a thing, as if it's not bad enough that we can't get rid of the thing! Grow more of it, can you imagine?â she said, shaking her head. âBut not to worry, boys, we won't let that happen, a few of us are keeping an eye on things and anyone who is caught trying to cultivate the plant will be punished immediately. I still can't imagine what kind of person would even consider such a thing!â she shook her head in disbelief, as she let the two out of the car, at the end of their street.
âWay to go, Snake! Thanks for always blaming me for getting us in trouble, man, now we have team Jenkins on our tail. Any more ideas, smart ass?â
Richard didn't respond, upset about the fact that the regular visits to his newborn metal crop farm had become a very unlikely possibility.
âWe need an interface,â he eventually said.
âThe only thing we need at this point is to get out of these clothes before our parents see them,â Jack didn't even listen to his comment. âA what?â
âAn interpreter, a go between, you know, the plant and the pipe manifold,â Richard continued his train of thought.
âYou're insane.â
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It's not that Richard wanted to get himself in trouble, but his curiosity always seemed to get the better of him, and since the plant problem was now the center of all the town folk's attention, which gave his parents little time to organize his schedule, he had plenty of time to dedicate to his research.
In the meantime, the lab results were finalized, to be presented to an already weary audience who didn't think they were going to hear anything they didn't already know. The real surprise came from the X-ray scans. The plant's tuberous roots were weaving through the pipes and taking up sufficient space to make the steam inside them run at higher pressure. There didn't seem to be a beginning or an end in this incredible system of ramifications, which exhibited the same strange behavior as its exterior counterpart, seeming to float inside the pipe, and touch it only at the penetration points.
A team of experts was convened, from many institutions in the surrounding areas, and representing many different fields, to assess the nature of the problem and come up with solutions. They spent a month to analyze the situation from every angle, time during which the plant, luckily,seemed to have reached a certain equilibrium with its environment and stopped leafing out of control. When the experts reached their conclusion, they returned to a hopeful audience with their findings and a list of options.
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One thing was sure: Richard was terrible at hiding the truth, and the last drop of it was pulled out of his tormented psyche despite his efforts; it came out in painful, somewhat inarticulate blobs as Jack attacked the matter from all sides, placing strategic questions at the critical points of the story, to eliminate the possibility of any important details being left out. After he squeezed the whole truth out of his friend, like one would get the last glob of toothpaste from an almost empty tube, he seemed content with the results, and pondered deep in thought for a while. He had that preoccupied look on his face, the one he got when he was planning something, which was exactly what Richard dreaded.
âWe're not doing anything about this, you hear me?â he tried to jump in front of his friend's speeding train of thought, but he knew his efforts were wasted, because once Jack made up his mind, very few things in the universe were capable of changing it. His mother's disapproval was one of them, and Richard grabbed onto that unlikely straw with the despair of a drowning person.
âThink how upset your mother would be if she found out we broke into the factory at a time like this! We can't do that to her, dude!â he told Jack, responsibly.
âShe wouldn't be more upset than your dad!â Jack replied, giving his friend a long, probing look. âI'm proud of you, Snake. I didn't think you had it in you, man! How long have you been sneaking into the factory?â his probing stare continued to poke around in Richard's mind, in search of juicy details.
âLong enough to know that it has become unrecognizable,â Jack frowned. âI still can't figure out how everything is still working, it's like the plant is smart enough to avoid interfering with any of the vital components.â
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After hearing his story, strongly disapproving of his son's choices and discussing the situation with Carol, Tom agreed to lift Richard's punishment, even though very reluctantly.
The boy counted the minutes until the following Saturday, when he expressed renewed enthusiasm for his rock collection and left for the factory as soon as the first rays of sun peeked over the horizon. He was so eager to see what the plant did in his absence that the half hour walk only took him twenty minutes.
In his enthusiasm to get to the factory floor as soon as possible, he almost ran straight into the evaluation committee, assembled for the purposes of finding a solution to the plant problem, and, just as importantly, figuring out how was it possible for it to happen?
â#*%&!â Richard said to himself, peeved that his secret weekend kingdom was overrun by non-compliant zealots. âCan't they do this during the week, why did they have to take over my time?â he mulled, resentful. First his dad was putting the stops on him, and now this!
He found a good place to hide, where he knew nobody would think to look, and tried to make the best of the unpleasant situation by trying to find out more about what the research unveiled so far. In his irritation, he almost failed to notice the change in scenery, which could only be described as breathtaking by any human soul.
The plant seemed to have matured by now, and the bright chartreuse of its young foliage had softened to a deeper, less saturated green, that gleamed with a coppery and tungsten sheen as the morning sunshine passed through it. The plant swirled and weaved around the pipes, just floating around them, touching them only at the penetration points, dispersing main branches into a profusion of metallic stems and then reuniting them, like a large river at an estuary, all the while surrounding the glossy islands of the control valves, flow meters and y connections, presenting them to the stunned observer like high end jewelry stores display expensive gems on velvet pillows. There were no visible signs of corrosion anywhere on the pipes, no water spots, no discoloration, no salt deposits, every component sparkled. It looked as if both sides of this unbelievable bio-mechanical forest had been installed together very recently, and carefully designed not to interfere with each other any more than it was absolutely necessary.
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Jack's plan was presented and analyzed for potential risks and flaws during the following week, over a few milkshakes at Jack and Richard's favorite hang out spot, and it was supposed to go like this: the boys were going to tell their parents they had volunteered at school to reorganize the supplies in the Art Studio, and since most parents had complained repeatedly about the mess their kids generated in art class, mess that always seemed to follow them back home, this was a very plausible reason to get out of the house, sure to meet with no resistance whatsoever.
They would then proceed to school, where they would enter through the front door while being very noisy, making sure to attract the attention of at least a couple of credible witnesses. They would then go out through the back, take the long way through the woods, which would take twice as long, increasing the risk of them getting caught, but it was an inevitable necessity, and arrive to the lab, also at the back of the building. Here the plan hit a snag, because Richard insisted they should have a valid explanation as of why they were there, just in case they ran into somebody they knew, and Jack had to concede him this additional security measure, even though he felt that Richard was being ridiculous. After long deliberations and creative brainstorming, they came up with a reason: Richard was waiting for a parcel, which he was supposed to pick up at the post office, and he figured they could say that he suddenly remembered that, went to pick it up and got lost. Jack was supposedly going with him to keep him company, so his friend wouldn't have to walk there all by himself. Granted, since they both grew up in that town and could walk anywhere backwards and blindfolded without getting disoriented, this scenario had some flaws, but they moved on with the planning, anyway, figuring out they would perfect the details later.
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He had to wait an entire week for an opportunity to visit the factory again. He anticipated with trepidation another one of his father's intrusions on his schedule, but when no restriction was placed on his time, he rushed back to his beloved factory, to see what happened to it in the meantime.
No wonder his father was impossible to please lately, the scene he came upon was simply surreal. The plant was growing in several locations now, immediately noticeable by anybody blessed with eyesight, it was as if spring had sprung in the factory and the pipes' leaf buds had started to open. The vine sneaked out of every crack and crevice, looking deceptively delicate, but harder to tear than tension cable, and then formed bridges and overpasses through the machine room, like a secondary system of sorts, bypassing the mechanical flow.
It was pleasantly warm inside the room, although the heat had been turned off altogether, and it was the middle of November. Richard wondered how come the machinery was still working, because appearances led one to believe that plant invasion would put it into an unmanageable state, but he hadn't heard anything to suggest that, and during the previous week the puffing dragon had been billowing smoke like nothing ever happened.
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The next Saturday he skipped out again, in search of interesting rocks for his âgeologyâ project. He arrived at the factory breathless and rushed to see if the plant was still there. It was. He couldn't tell if it was the same plant, or one that kind of looked the same, but it was definitely growing out of the same valve, wrapping around the steam pipe almost half way up now.
Richard, who worshiped the scientific method, tied a little string around the plant and marked its height on the pipe. He tried to snip a little piece of stem with leaves, but the stem was harder to cut than a steel cable. He managed to pull a leaf, after much struggle, placed it in the back pocket of his pants and tended to other things of interest, after all his secret weekend kingdom had so many things to offer.
He wandered about a little bit, moving from the engine room to the pipe manifold distribution center, the most impressive area in the factory, and Richard's favorite spot. It looked almost like a gigantic organ, with tubes splaying out in every direction, through windows and transoms, along walls and bending around openings, snaking about a few inches off the floor, splitting and reuniting with the twisted patterns of a gnarled old tree. Richard spent hours wandering inside this mechanical forest, following its logical flows, trying to understand which steam pipe fed what, learning the inner works of its vortex flow meters, its pressure couplings, its every bend and elbow.
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His mom wasn't in the house, so he went straight to the bathroom to put some toothpaste on the burn on his arm. Every single surface in the room was spotless and not a single object was out of place, which reminded Richard that he would be wise to keep it that way. Carol was a cleaning fanatic and gave the children the mother of all guilt trips if they made a mess, and her lectures on disrespect and parental disappointment could last for hours, depending on the amount of dirt and disorder that had been generated. By now all of the children would rather scrub the floors with their own toothbrushes than have to listen to one of those discourses again, all of course, except Teddy, whose young age gave him the benefit of an excuse, to the older siblings' silent grudge.
Richard put the cap back on the toothpaste and placed it back in the drawer, exactly as he had found it. He looked at himself in the mirror, as always wishing he was blessed by nature with a bigger build. Despite his wishes to enjoy body building activities, he just couldn't stand working out, and he found the amount of time it required in order to get visible results simply revolting. He got easily bored by repetitive activities and concluded that he had better things to do with his time. To circumvent the unpleasantness of physical strain he became a big fan of any and all gadgets, diets and techniques that promised to yield results with no effort at all, and had tried every one of them at some point in time, with constantly disappointing results. His stringy body seemed to absorb the shock of lifting weights and distribute it in waves through his long and slender limbs rather than bulk up to withstand it. No amount of food managed to put more meat on his bones, it only seemed to make him grow taller and more wiry. He drew his mother nuts during his pasta period, when he ingested vast amounts of the aforementioned food, only to notice, to his dismay, that it went straight through him, without leaving anything behind.
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