Note that this story cuts across a screeching intersection of a younger me: sustainability and science fiction. Or in this case fantasy. And you can't argue that some excellent science fiction has environmental elements but I read A LOT of 70s scifi (Including Ecotopia a groovy novel of a separatist state in the Pacific Northwest that is both very sustainable and also has a helicopter war with the US. This is also fantasy a genre that I like playing but I rather get teeth scraped by a dentist's kid than read or watch. But the blog and its dedicated set of porn bots is an never satiated maw that groans for content. So, here you go. It's....
Purple Monday
The flower on the purple plant stood high above the water line and opened up into vibrant violet bursts. The invader appeared beautiful, in a garish sort-of-way, but Lor still approached with hesitance. Even though the best plant reader in the entire province, she knew this plant to be unknown and unwelcome. It could have been a Free Lander trap, coated in poison. She lay by the water and debated whether to touch the thing. The Free Landers were never known for their cleverness and Lor lived in a deep part of the wood. She wanted to read the plant and get a better understanding of why it was here, in her garden. If it was poisoned then she did not care, because Lor tucked her legs under herself and started the breathing exercises. Divining plants was what Lor did for a living and she had read unknown plants as both master and apprentice. She cupped her hands around the striking purple inflorescence and closed her eyes. The plant swayed in her exhaled breath and then it all clicked.
With their energies combined Lor dove into the mysterious plant’s botanical psyche. She felt the brewing angst of any young plant but that would dissipate with time. The intense desire to be left alone came across strong and so did a relentless self-love that could shame narcissuses. This plant did not want to be read and threw up walls of anger that enveloped Lor’s own energy. Whatever this plant was, it was an angry plant and Lor let go before it could taint her with its negativity.
Still fearing a Free Lander hand in this plant, Lor wrote a message to the local guardian: her childhood friend, Saria. She attacked it to the talon of one of the broad-wing hawks she kept as couriers. She choose her fastest one and told it to avoid the village altogether and head straight to Saria’s. Last thing she wanted was the entire village learning about the invader. Lor was up for re-certification in two months and while she had confidence, the purple invader could ruin her chances in an instance. She let the hawk loose and watched it cut through the canopy before heading outside to the marsh.
Now there were ten of them. Nine more purple plants sprouted in the few moments that Lor spent writing the message. She read some of her other plants and they all expressed fear for the new plant. Her lotus, still tucked neatly in its pod waiting for the right time to blossom, asked her how she could let this happen. Three separate invaders flanked the lotus and it trembled when it spoke to her. Lor comforted and told the lotus that the invaders would be dealt with. She reached over, snapped the three plants at the base and threw the stalks to the side. “There,” she said to the lotus, knowing it could not hear her real voice.
Lor had seen the slow, day by day growth of her plants before, but she had never heard actual growth. The invader grew so fast that the air around her pond crackled with the snap buds and blossoming of flowers. The water was already choked by a mass of doubled over purple and green. When Saria showed up, Lor lay sprawled on the floor twirling the lotus pod in her hands. Saria sat down next to her and pointed at the lotus stalk. “What’s that?”
Lor cocked her head to the side. “A mercy kill.”
“Oh,” Saria gazed at the wall of plants that lined the pond now. She pressed her hand against it and felt the thick strength of solidity. “What is this supposed to be?”
“What I called you for. I have no idea what it is. There was only one of them this morning and now it has saturated the entire pond.”
Saria cocked her head up and her dreadlocks rustled over her eyes. The plants had not just filled the pond, but turned the water into a foundation for a column of plants. Saria saw three new flower stalks develop at the very top. The entire tower inched and wiggled its way up to the tree line. “Have you tried cutting it or something,” Saria asked while kneading the base of the purple and green stalk. She pulled her hands back and noticed the dark green pigment under her fingernails.
Lor kept twirling the lotus and nodded. “Yes, but cutting does nothing. It just grows back.”
“You told anyone in town?”
The lotus fell to the ground and Lor snapped to her feet. “You crazy? Of course not. Imagine if any of those hags at the academy found out about this!” She slammed her hand against the plants and felt the column shake off the impact. “What would my apprentices say?
Saria shrugged. She was not the plant reader, just a guardian. Saria grabbed a tuft of plants and tugged at the flowers. It felt solid enough, like the stalks were embedded in the deep heartwood. “Let’s climb it. Plants grow from the top up, right? Maybe there is something there.”
Before Lor could answer, Saria had already begun to climb the thing.
The ascent was easy, the ever growing reeds made convenient grips. Lor expected the column to shake them off or swallow them in a crush of blossoms. Every grip she took made her feel quick wisps of the plant’s anger and its consuming ego. At the top, the column still felt solid and the girls knelt down at the center. Flowering stalks curled up towards the sky and Lor felt one of them graze her leg. Saria pointed at the horizon and motioned at a rippling sea of purple in the distance. White figures waded amongst the reeds and wove silver staffs over the plants.
“Freelanders,” Saria said pulling back her arm. “And it looks like the same plant too.”
“Maybe it is an attack.”
Saria shook her head. “I don’t think so. That used to be a marsh just like your little pond. Had lots of good game in it that we used to hunt, but then something just choked out the water and animals.” She ripped off a stalk and held it up to her eyes. “I thought this looked familiar.”
Lor gave her an annoyed look. She could have mentioned that at the bottom, before the climb. “Then do you think the Freelanders could help us? Maybe they are trying to get rid of it.”
“You want to go and talk to some Freelanders about how to deal with this? A second ago you thought this was their first wave of attack.”
“Until I saw that,” Lor motioned back again to where the Freelanders were and the exploding violet that seemed to beat, infinitely, towards the horizon.
* * *
There were about six of them, all working separately, from a burgundy red pickup truck filled with powder blue barrels. Saria moved deftly through the undergrowth but Lor lagged behind, feeling awkward around Saria’s stealth training. They got within ten paces of one of the Free Landers, the one closest to the truck, and crouched down in between two patches of the plant. The air smelled acrid and appeared hazy under the sun. All the Freelanders wore crackling white suits and globular masks that reminded the dryads of deep wood insects.
Saria pointed at the figure. “We’ll ask the one closest to that people mover there and see what he has to say.”
Lor snapped off a piece of the plant and nodded. “Ok. What do we do if he sounds an alarm?”
Sarri tugged at her left cheek and indicated the three green chevrons tattooed there. “I’m the guardian. Remember?”
Lars K. Dudley thought it must have been the chemicals or something when he saw two elfin, green-haired figures poke out of the reeds. But there they were, clear as day and one desperately sad looking. Lars pulled off his mask and spoke. “Now, there is something you don’t see everyday.” He waved Lor and Saria over. “What do you two want? It is dangerous here.”
The dryads got closer and leaned against the truck bed. Lor tried to remember Saria’s command to “stay calm” but still felt nervous. She had never actually seen a Freelander up close and this one was missing a few teeth along with bits of his wiry mustache. He stood tall and even Saria only reached up to his armpits. Lor felt Saria’s hand push her forward and she stumbled up to Lars, who hung his spray wand over his shoulders.
Lor swallowed and looked up, “Hello. We are having some problems with this plant.” She held up the flowered stalk for him to see. “Maybe you could help us?”
Lars arched his eyebrow, grimaced, and then smiled again. “Well so is the rest of the county. That is purple loosestrife and it is one bastard of a plant.”
For such a fearsome plant, Lor thought it had a weak name. “Purple loosestrife,” she whispered to herself.
“Yup, Lythrum salicaria. Introduced by some foreigners from Europe way back when. Spread across the entire nation.”
Saria spoke up from behind. “How do you get ride of it?”
Lars held up his wand and swung it side to side. “This stuff. Rodeo brand herbicide. You two ladies have access to a pump sprayer?”
Most of the words were new to Lor but she got the gist of it. “Poison? No we can’t use poison.”
Lars swung down his spray wand and moseyed over to the truck bed. “No poison? You two must be some of those tree huggers then? Well that is ok because I have something here in the back of ol’ Red that is right up your alley.” He pulled out a tiny paper box, lined with holes on top, from the truck. He cracked the lid open a bit and inside Lor saw dozens of scurrying beetles with shimmering gold carapaces. “I have no idea what these little guys are called but they eat the roots of purple loosestrife really good.” Lor curled her hands around the box but the man quickly snapped them back. “Now these are paid with tax payer dollars you see. Can’t just give them away but I think I could make an exception for you two. How does fifty sound to you?”
Lor bite her lip and had no idea what the man was saying. “Fifty? Fifty what?”
Lars’s face scrunched up into a grimace. His nose perked up and his right front incisor peeked out from his lips. “You two must be really hippie if you got no money! Here I am trying to do you a favor and no compensation.” He put the box back in the truck bed and then positioned his spray wand forwards. “You know this area is restricted. Can’t you eco-freaks read?” Lars reached over for a walkie-talkie he had clipped to his waist and muttered something about the boss but Lor did not bother to listen. If she could not stop the plant and the Freelander did not want to help then her garden was over.
The radio beeped when activated. Lars puckered his lips and held down the ‘Send’ button. “Hey, I have got…” His voice stopped there and then a wet gurgle, like bubbles breaking the surface of a pond. Lor looked up and saw Saria bring her leg down from an arching high kick. Lars hit the ground and crushed dozens of purple loosestrife plants. He hand his hands wrapped around his neck and he gasped in broken wheezes. Saria reached over into the truck bed and grabbed the box. “Come one,” she yelled while the radio screamed out requests for authorization.
Lor looked at Lars and then back at Saria, who was already running back towards the forest. “Saria! You had to hurt him?!”
As they ran, the air filled with the sound of snapping reeds. “He was going to call for help! We planned for that, remember? You got the bugs so what is the problem. He’ll live.”
Lor clutched the box in her arms, actually cradling it against the slapping reeds of angered purple loosestrife.
* * *
The column was massive now and almost towered over the tree line. Lor crouched by the water and spread the beetles at the base of the purple loosestrife mass. She watched the insects climb onto the plants and meander their way into the purple-green core. She looked at Saria, “Thanks for your help. I don’t want to take up anymore of your time.”
Saria nodded, realizing she had to get to the village. “No problem. Make sure to tell me how this all works out. I still don’t think a bunch of bugs will stop this. I can always bring a contingent here tomorrow with some axes or something.”
Lor imagined the gossip that scenario would create. There went re-certification and the Elders would never let her divine plants, for a living, again. She waved Saria goodbye and debated whether to read the purple loosestrife again. She decided not to, the plant was probably laughing at her. She left the tiny beetles to their work and went inside. The entire day had been a drain and sleep appeared too tempting to resist.
She later awoke to soft snap of falling reeds. Outside, the column was already down to her knees and the beetles lazily lay in the sun, engorged on purple loosestrife. She saw the tips of her old horsetails and elegant cat tails poke out from the curtailed purple loose strife. When she read them, her own plants, they were annoyed and gasping for breath, but mostly happy. They told war stories of crushing close quarters and how they avoided the purple bully. Lor listened to each of the survivor’s stories and reminded them the day was over.
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