her childhood years, soaking up tears and snot, patiently tolerating her baby gums and playing the silent participant in many a game of tug of war. She decided after so many years of sterling service, it was only fair he got to come along for the ride too.
Ellie tiptoed across the courtyard towards her dome, Betsy. As she pushed through the curtain of dangling plastic flaps she felt the warm humidity wrap itself around her. She checked the time again; it was fifteen minutes past the hour. She headed towards the exit hatch where her mask and O2 cylinder hung. She had refilled the cylinder last night so that it would give her a full hour and a half of oxygen. As she walked alongside a row of tubweeds one of them casually lashed out with its pod, catching her.
‘Ow! You little-,’
She felt her cheek. A small bump was beginning to rise. She decided there was enough time to indulge in one final, long overdue bit of payback.
‘Okay you pathetic little weed, if that’s how you want to thank me for all the tender loving care I’ve given you and your brothers, fine. This is how I’m going to thank you,’ she hissed under her breath, reached down to the base of the plant and began pulling it up out of the soil.
‘This is for all the stings, the hassle and generally being a nasty, shitty little plant.’
The tubweed began to writhe and twist in her hands, the pod swinging furiously, searching for a target. She heard the roots begin to snap beneath the soil. With one final tug she wrenched the plant out of the soil bed and threw it down on to the rubber matt floor of the dome. It continued to writhe pathetically for a few moments. The plant’s central stalk began to bend and it slowly curled up into what appeared to be a disturbingly good imitation of a human fetal position.
She felt a twinge of guilt at that.
As she continued down the row of plants towards the hatch, the other tubweeds swayed backwards slightly, keeping a respectful distance from her. It dawned on her that maybe Ted and Shona had at some point made an early sacrificial example of one of their plants and that was why their crops always seemed to behave so well for them.
Typical. She sighed. So NOW they want to be good little plants .
Well it was too late; a week of Ted’s heavy-handed care and they would all be pining for the good old days of Ellie’s tender regime.
She reached the hatchway, lifted her mask and cylinder off the hook and put it on. She turned around to take one last look at her dome. She hoped that Dad’s resolve to change things over would persist. At a time when the population was increasing dramatically, this world’s ability to feed itself was met only through the costly importation of synthetic protein from other worlds. Now was the time to be a farmer growing a food crop, not oxygen-farming. Soon, maybe as little as twenty to thirty years from now, the air on Harpers Reach would be enough that the enviro-domes planet-wide would be thrown off or torn down.
She opened the hatch and quickly slipped out, closing it promptly behind her. As the hatch clicked and sealed with a hiss Ellie felt an overpowering surge of excitement.
‘Despite a hesitant start, Ms Ellie Quin is off the starting block and under way,’ she muttered quietly with a smile, vaguely remembering a children’s story about a hare and a tortoise.
She started to make her way up the rocky slope to the overlook. The purple night sky was beginning to lighten and the horizon to the north glowed with the distinctive pink of dawn approaching. Daylight was still an hour and a half away. She checked the time again. There were still thirty minutes until Sean was due. She was glad. That would give her a quiet half-hour to say goodbye to her home and family and this all-too small world of hers…and time to look towards the south and contemplate the new, much larger world ahead.
*
‘Come on Sean, where the freg are you?!’
Ellie checked the time again. It was nearly
Ellie tiptoed across the courtyard towards her dome, Betsy. As she pushed through the curtain of dangling plastic flaps she felt the warm humidity wrap itself around her. She checked the time again; it was fifteen minutes past the hour. She headed towards the exit hatch where her mask and O2 cylinder hung. She had refilled the cylinder last night so that it would give her a full hour and a half of oxygen. As she walked alongside a row of tubweeds one of them casually lashed out with its pod, catching her.
‘Ow! You little-,’
She felt her cheek. A small bump was beginning to rise. She decided there was enough time to indulge in one final, long overdue bit of payback.
‘Okay you pathetic little weed, if that’s how you want to thank me for all the tender loving care I’ve given you and your brothers, fine. This is how I’m going to thank you,’ she hissed under her breath, reached down to the base of the plant and began pulling it up out of the soil.
‘This is for all the stings, the hassle and generally being a nasty, shitty little plant.’
The tubweed began to writhe and twist in her hands, the pod swinging furiously, searching for a target. She heard the roots begin to snap beneath the soil. With one final tug she wrenched the plant out of the soil bed and threw it down on to the rubber matt floor of the dome. It continued to writhe pathetically for a few moments. The plant’s central stalk began to bend and it slowly curled up into what appeared to be a disturbingly good imitation of a human fetal position.
She felt a twinge of guilt at that.
As she continued down the row of plants towards the hatch, the other tubweeds swayed backwards slightly, keeping a respectful distance from her. It dawned on her that maybe Ted and Shona had at some point made an early sacrificial example of one of their plants and that was why their crops always seemed to behave so well for them.
Typical. She sighed. So NOW they want to be good little plants .
Well it was too late; a week of Ted’s heavy-handed care and they would all be pining for the good old days of Ellie’s tender regime.
She reached the hatchway, lifted her mask and cylinder off the hook and put it on. She turned around to take one last look at her dome. She hoped that Dad’s resolve to change things over would persist. At a time when the population was increasing dramatically, this world’s ability to feed itself was met only through the costly importation of synthetic protein from other worlds. Now was the time to be a farmer growing a food crop, not oxygen-farming. Soon, maybe as little as twenty to thirty years from now, the air on Harpers Reach would be enough that the enviro-domes planet-wide would be thrown off or torn down.
She opened the hatch and quickly slipped out, closing it promptly behind her. As the hatch clicked and sealed with a hiss Ellie felt an overpowering surge of excitement.
‘Despite a hesitant start, Ms Ellie Quin is off the starting block and under way,’ she muttered quietly with a smile, vaguely remembering a children’s story about a hare and a tortoise.
She started to make her way up the rocky slope to the overlook. The purple night sky was beginning to lighten and the horizon to the north glowed with the distinctive pink of dawn approaching. Daylight was still an hour and a half away. She checked the time again. There were still thirty minutes until Sean was due. She was glad. That would give her a quiet half-hour to say goodbye to her home and family and this all-too small world of hers…and time to look towards the south and contemplate the new, much larger world ahead.
*
‘Come on Sean, where the freg are you?!’
Ellie checked the time again. It was nearly
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