Love of Botany |
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The Prirose alone might have been enough enticement for a xenobiologist
to accept the offer: aflower whose trunk shoots three meters into the
air, the blossom itself a meter in diameter, sprouting layer upon layer
of ruffled deep salmon petals. Entire zipbooks are published on the subject
of the Prirose scent, which is said to inebriate anyone who inhales it.
This mysterious plant (and its neighboring exotic cousins) do not live
on earth but on Edenal, a far moon orbiting the uninhabitable planet of
Steinfeld 124 in the constellation of Sagittarius. Dr. Reginald Steinfeld
discovered the place with his Lazescope in 2029 when the populace was
in a frenzy of planet discovery. As the number 124 signifies, the astronomer
was ambitious. I would be the twenty-ninth human to make an extended stay on Edenal,
at the moment populated by only a small crew of scientists. The moon is
on the route to Divott where they were cultivating a hybro-virus useful
for immunization. So, occasionally, I would have company other than the
crew. My sponsors were all private: one pharmaceutical company, one cosmetic
and a university. This was preferable to being owned by the government.
They arranged a ride for me on a second class cargosledge, taking off at midnight. I could hardly stand up, I was so exhausted, being a morning person of the first order. Two weeks straight run, then a hyperjump, six days more and we were there. No showers were available on that piece of junk; I had to sponge bathe. Hated it. Felt quite funky by the time we arrived.
Actually, it was only December on Earth, but we kept two
calendars. Here on this tiny moon, it was eternal July: the tropics of
Africa, the Amazonian jungle, Sumatra. An Edenal day was 2.89 hours longer
than an Earth day. I stepped out of the cargosledge into steam heat rising
from the small area of pavement surrounding the pod. Fredericks, the head
honcho (actually a somewhat renowned xenozoologist for someone so young:
still in his thirties) resembled Merlin standing in magical mist. He was
a tall, pale string bean with hair the same color as his skin; definitely
not my type. Not that I figured I'd have time for that sort of thing with
all I had to do, like classify every plant I could see. I didn't get the
impression there was much social life there anyway, not with only six
people other than myself in residence. Fredericks looked distracted and
annoyed to have to meet me. "Dr. Drumm," he said, his voice wavery. (So unappealing.
I was lonely already.) He extended a limp hand. "You may call me Valerie," I said. I gave him
a firm shake to set him straight. "Come this way," he said. "You'll be living
with us unless and until you construct a personal pod. We have the materials
for everyone to do so, but no one has yet got around to using them. We're
all mainly interested in work here." "Hmmmm," I said. I added, "I am rather starved.
Anything interesting to eat?" I followed him along a sort of boardwalk. Below us was thick
foliage. "I don't know about 'interesting'," he said. "We
have the usual rations. We often have some local fruit but none at the
moment. Gosset is off gauging temps at the volcano and Marsh is sifting
dirt about ten kilometers to the east. Three of us are sleeping. We've
been at it rather intensely. I'll show you the kitchen; you're on your
own." So no welcoming dinner, not even a note on the kitchen counter.
What an amusing bunch. My first evening I ate alone. A sandwich of stale
sprout bread and walnut tofu with a side of freeze dried lima beans. Yuck.
Eventually, I met the crew: besides Fredericks, Gosset,
and Marsh, there were Chow, her assistant drone, and Bonaski, a specialist
in rock dating and the friendliest of the bunch (which wasn't saying a
lot). It was clear within a couple of days that I would be happier in
my own place. "How do I go about this moving out?" I asked Fredericks,
whose face was, as usual, glued to a microscreen. "What?" he said, maybe a full minute later, eyes
blinking as if I had suddenly flooded a dark room with light. "Oh,
you mean constructing your own minipod?" "Yes. My own minipod." He tore himself reluctantly from his screen. Mind you, being a scientist myself, I could sympathize with this maniacal intensity with one's field of study, but these pod people carried it to extremes. Didn't they have any desire whatsoever for social interaction? For recreation after hours? Anything besides work? Hadn't they had psyche training? Anyone with a nanobrain knew that time off to goof off was as important for work success as is the labor itself! "The kits are in the store room. Clearly marked. They
snap together, you hardly need tools. You'll have it up in half a day." "Well, thanks," I said, understanding from the
"you" that no one would be helping me. "You're welcome," said Fredericks, eyes back on
the screen. It took me two days to set it up, with plenty of cursing
involved. Overhearing me, Bonaski showed up to lend a hand. By then all
that was left to do was to lay down the flooring and snap together the
meager furniture, but I was grateful for anything. "You're kind of a social type, aren't you?" said
Bonaski when we were done (one table, two chairs, one cot, one shelf.)
She flopped onto one of the chairs, causing it to collapse. Unruffled,
she hopped up from the floor, snapped the thing back together and sat
down more carefully. She was the tough type, rather mannish, with a wide,
ruddy face and elfish blue eyes. "What do you mean?" I snapped. I hated to be analyzed,
especially by someone who hardly knew me. "Well," she said, unfazed, "as soon as you
got here, you spent most of your time trying to hook up with each of us.
Do you realize you've been on Edenal for four days and have yet to visit
the Prirose?" What she said struck me like a good karate kick. I had one
of those what-is-real-am-I-crazy sensations but didn't plan on admitting
it. In a flash, I understood that she was right, that I was very much
a person who needed intense contact. Then what was I doing zillions of
miles out in space in the exact wrong setting for that? "Well," I said, "what can I say?" "I don't know," said Bonaski. "What can you
say? Maybe you need to rethink your mission." I resolved to stop pissing around and get out into that
jungle first thing in the morning. The Edenal night was only seven hours
long and the day about twenty. The system had two suns, one being much
more distant than the other. During the "night," the more distant
star was in dominance, preventing darkness but not creating full daylight.
More like a seven hour dusk. Hence the thick, healthy vegetation. To change the subject, I said, "So what's the animal
life like here? I read about the firndle and the breesk, and those birdlike
things, the mawk-mawks? Anything I need to be wary of when I go out there?"
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