Chapter 118 The Garden of Grey
The Hydroponics Bay on Level 14 was a cathedral of dead plastic.
The dead plastic cathedral was the Hydroponics Bay, Level 14.
Dusty empty white planting troughs extended into the darkness in rows. The UV grow-lights overhead fluttered with a nauseating, yellow buzz--powered by emergency power since they had cut down the grid by the Unions. It was cold here. It was stinking of stagnant water and old chemicals.
"This is it?" There was the shaking of his voice, Silas asked. So that here you would have me... do it?
The New Citizen was in the middle of the room, his wrists covered with vines in his arms. He was small in contrast with the industrial size of the bay. There were on the other side of him a dozen other, the Quarantined, citizens, the men with bent skin like rye, the women with moss upon their heads. They looked terrified.
This is the garden, Silas, I said meekly, and walked into it. "We have the seeds. We have the water. But we don't have the time. We need you to be the sun."
I am not the sun, I am not the sun, I said to myself, looking at my hands. The vines moved beneath his skin in response to his anxiety. "I'm a accountant. Or I was. Now I'm just... compost."
You the solution, Ryker said on the doorway.
He came in with the sound of his boots on the metal grate. He was carrying a carton of seed--heirloom stocks of corn and wheat which had been stored up in the seed vault of the sub-basement.
Gareth allowed us until noon," Ryker put it aside. "It's 10:00 AM. Unless something happens to us to present to the Council by lunch... the lights go off forever.
He turned to Dr. Sato who was organizing an analysis laboratory in a folding table.
"Is the nutrient mix ready?" Ryker asked.
It is... experimental, I told, taken up and put down my glasses. I used the by product of ammonia- bleach purification used in the ventilation purge as a sterilizer of the water. And then I took the last of our synthesized nitrates. It is a chemical cocktail which ought to kill anything normal. But for them..."
She gestured to Silas.
"It might act as a catalyst."
"Let's find out," Ryker said.
He caught a few of the corn seeds and dumped them in the closest trough. The plastic was rattling with the dry kernels.
"Silas," Ryker ordered. "Touch the water."
Silas approached the trough. He gazed at the water, and then at Ryker. He took a deep breath.
He immersed his hands in the nutrient solution.
Nor was there, a moment, a sound.
Now the water started to boil.
"It's reacting!" Sato looked at her to stare at her tablet. "Nitrogen levels are spiking! The biological stuff in the blood of Silas is uniting with the solution!
Silas gasped. His eyes were turning in his head. The vines that were on his arms leaped forward, and like snakes, uncoiled themselves out of his wrists and plunged into the water. they glowed with violet light.
And then, the seeds cracked.
It wasn't a slow sprout. It was an explosion of growth.
CRACK-CRUNCH.
Black stalks sprouted out of the grains. They had not grown in a straight line, but wound round and round, the muscles over and under one another. In a few seconds they shot up, six inches, a foot, three feet.
My god, will you not move aside? Vane said to himself.
The corn stalks weren't green. They were black--a metallic black. The leaves were very sharp and the edges seemed serrated. And instead of ears of corn were throbbing, clear, transparent bulbs of violet theatres.
The smell hit us instantly. It didn't smell like a farm. It was ozone and wet copper.
"It's spreading!" one of the other New Citizens shouted.
The other troughs came on bursting. The tank-to-tank transmission of the infection was powered by the common water system. In another few minutes the whole bay was transformed into a jungle of black vines and grey stalks.
Silas dragged his hands out of water. He collapsed, panting. His green skin was pale, and he was smiling.
"I... I felt them," Silas whispered. "They were hungry."
Ryker went over to the stalk nearest. It had been seven feet high and towered over him. He stretched out and touched a leaf. It was warm.
"Is it food?" Ryker asked.
Sato came with a scanner. She flashed her beam across one of the violet sacs.
Sato said to himself, Genetic structure is... chaos. "It has the DNA of corn. Silicon reinforces the walls of the cells though. And the energy density... Ryker is one kernel of this; the caloric value of which equals a steak.
"But is it toxic?" Looking at the glowing fruit, I asked.
No, scanner," Sato said, uncertain. It claims that it is a consumable biomass. But even the scanner believes a spider to be a large crab. I wouldn't bet my life on it."
CLANG.
The Hydroponics Bay doors exploded open.
Gareth marched in. His enforcers of the Union came after him, armed with heavy wrenches and pipes.
"What is that smell?" Gareth insisted, and his nose was covered. The place smells like a chemical fire.
When he saw the garden he halted.
His eyes went wide. He stared at the stalks of grey, the violet fruit, the throbbing vines.
"What in the hell is this?" Gareth whispered.
It is lunch, said Ryker with a placid expression towards him.
That is no food, Gareth spat, and he pointed his wrench at the corn. "That's Rot! You are spreading the infection within the Spire!
"It's controlled," Ryker said. "It's a hybrid. Survival rations of the high-yield and rapid growth keep-up type.
"It's poison!" Gareth shouted to his men. "Look at it! It's glowing! Eat that and you become one of them!
He pointed at Silas.
"Burn it," Gareth ordered. "Burn it all down."
"No!" Silas scrambled up and stood before the trough. "We made it! It's ours!"
Get out of the way, moss-head, a Union man growled, and went forward with a lit flare.
Ryker didn't draw his sword. He did something still more dangerous.
He accessed and pulled off an ear of the grey corn by the stalk.
The peeling of the husk was a wet tearing noise. The kernels were not yellow inside. They were black grey, shining with finished haematite. They were food-like rather than ammunition-like.
Don't, Ryker, don't, I told myself, making a step in his direction.
Ryker told the room that Gareth said it was poison. His response is, it will make me a monster.
He looked at the corn. He gazed at the starving frozen features of the New Citizens. He gazed at the enraged Union workers.
Ryker said, "Gareth is in charge, in case of my death. If I live... the strike is over."
"Don't do it, man," Vane warned. That is some stuff, it must taste like battery acid.
Ryker took a bite.
CRUNCH.
The room was silent and the sound was loud. Fruicy--violet, syrup-like juice--slopped down his chin.
Gareth watched, mesmerized. Silas held his breath.
Ryker chewed. He swallowed.
He long lingered there. He closed his eyes.
He took a deep breath.
"Well?" Gareth entreated, with a trembling voice. Do you get the temptation of eating a cat?
Ryker opened his eyes.
They were brighter. There was a new intensity of the gold in his irises. He drew himself to a straighter position and the lines of fatigue in his face were removed as the powerful energy entered his blood.
It is like ash, said Ryker, wiping his mouth. "And metal."
Instead, he ripped the ear half and gave it to Gareth.
But it stuffs the belly, Ryker said. "And it's warm."
Gareth stared at the grey corn. Looked at Ryker who was evidently alive. He stared at his own men who were gazing at the food with open mouths.
Gareth reached over and struck Ryker off the corn in his hand.
Keep thy Rot-food, snarled Gareth. "We won't touch it. The Unions do eat real food or we do not eat.
Then thou starveth, Ryker said with a frigid cold. "But the strike ends now. Since we have just demonstrated that we do not require you to feed the city.
Gareth glared at him. He knew that he lost the leverage. The New Citizens were no longer parasites, they were producers.
"This isn't over," Gareth hissed. And when people begin to turn... when their guts rot out... then tell me I did not warn you.
He wheeled around and walked off and his men followed him. But one of the workers took a glance back at the piece of corn which had fallen on the floor. He wavered and continued to walk.
Silence returned to the bay.
"Are you okay?" Rushing to the side of Ryker, I inquired. "Do you feel sick?"
Ryker looked at his hand. His veins were a little blacker in his wrist, with an imperceptible grey beat.
I am strong, Ryker told himself. "Too strong. It is as though one was drinking jet fuel, Elara.
He looked at Silas.
"Harvest it," Ryker ordered. "Process it. Grind it into flour. Bake it. Boil it. Take whatever you must do to make it bread-like.
"Yes, sir," Silas said, beaming. He was not scared of his hands, but rather proud.
And Sato," said Ryker, bending forward so as not to be overheard. Get me a blood test every hour. Should my eyes begin to turn violet... what thou art to do.
Sato nodded grimly. "I'll keep the antidote ready."
Ryker walked out of the bay. He strolled in a dull, cat-like fashion. The man had been fed on the food, the Wolf had been fed on the food.
I looked at the grey garden. There was no wind, and it was gently swaying. The plants were talking to one another.
We had solved the hunger. But as I saw the violet light flashing in the veins of the corn I wondered whether we had not just invited the enemy to dinner.