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Authors: Sean DeLauder
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distance, but could see now that it was actually a heaping of crawling
vines shaped into a dome. It encased a broad area with the imperfect grip of an
overturned colander, allowing bands of light to slip through in thousands of
humming strands.
He felt himself
shaking with the understanding that he would soon be in the presence of an
awesome creature whose existence spanned eons. Its knowledge penetrated
everything: physics, chemistry, botany, philosophy. There were rumors it could
see through time, and certainly it could read Hedge's thoughts as plainly as
Hedge could read roadside billboards: 3 miles to next Rest Stop; 5 miles to
next Act of Insubordination and Treason.
The thought
that all his secrets would be laid bare in such stark fashion frightened him.
Not just because they were his private thoughts which no one should know, but
because of the realization that he had secrets when, as an honest and open
plant, he shouldn't. The Plant of Ultimate Knowing would see he cared entirely
too much for the humans and judge they had turned him from his true purpose. Or
worse, it would delve into his mind and learn the Council was right, that Hedge
was a human interloper trying to save his kinsmen, even though that wasn't
entirely true. There was only evidence enough to support its trueness.
It had been a
mistake to come here, Hedge realized. The visit would only bring disaster. The
Council may be wrong, but Hedge lacked the evidence and intellect to turn them
from such a course.
He turned back
down the path but found his way blocked by the towering form of a garden
acolyte as it moved toward him. The foliage on either side was too thick to
press through without damaging it. The acolyte had no eyes, no face, only a
thick green trunk with a great gathering of tendrils at the base that writhed
slowly like an octopus flexing faintly to keep itself level in the water. It
did not attempt to care for any of the plants on either side of the path, it
simply remained, too large to go around.
Hedge would
have to find a different way out.
He resumed
following the path and after a few steps his heel sank into soft dirt. At first
he thought he'd gone off the path, but soon realized he'd wandered into a cloister
of some sort where several of the paths converged and the soil was rich and
black. Unlike the rest of the garden, this patch was absent of plantlife but
for a solitary fat stalk as big around as his head that thrust out of the
ground.
The stalk arced
high over Hedge and his neck craned back to take in the rest of the plant. A
single leaf curled away from the trunk like the peel of a partially opened
banana, and the top was dominated by the huge, brown-budded face of an enormous
sunflower that hung over him like a dormant showerhead: the Plant of Ultimate
Knowing.
Light and fast
as he was able, Hedge made for the nearest open path. As he approached, another
acolyte stepped out of the growth and stopped on the path, filling it. He moved
toward the next, but an acolyte was already emerging. As he looked around the
clearing he saw that all the paths had been filled by silent watchmen. There
was no way out.
Hedge fumbled
with the toaster.
Why have you come?
The voice
boomed through the garden, slow and powerful like a rhinoceros plowing through
the soft husks of dead trees, emanating from everywhere and hammering Hedge's
mind with thundering boldface. Startled, the toaster fell out of his hands.
Hedge knew he
was trapped. The plant was surely already peering into his mind, reading the
long scroll of his thoughts as they unspooled from the typewriter: Run, Hide,
Anna, Bees. Full of mortification and despair, pity and frustration.
He opened his
mouth to respond, stooping for the toaster as he searched for the proper words
to use for a creature who had been extant for so many eons, realizing banter
and trite speak would be tiresome and that he should just get right to the
point. Then paused.
Something was
amiss.
The
vines shaped into a dome. It encased a broad area with the imperfect grip of an
overturned colander, allowing bands of light to slip through in thousands of
humming strands.
He felt himself
shaking with the understanding that he would soon be in the presence of an
awesome creature whose existence spanned eons. Its knowledge penetrated
everything: physics, chemistry, botany, philosophy. There were rumors it could
see through time, and certainly it could read Hedge's thoughts as plainly as
Hedge could read roadside billboards: 3 miles to next Rest Stop; 5 miles to
next Act of Insubordination and Treason.
The thought
that all his secrets would be laid bare in such stark fashion frightened him.
Not just because they were his private thoughts which no one should know, but
because of the realization that he had secrets when, as an honest and open
plant, he shouldn't. The Plant of Ultimate Knowing would see he cared entirely
too much for the humans and judge they had turned him from his true purpose. Or
worse, it would delve into his mind and learn the Council was right, that Hedge
was a human interloper trying to save his kinsmen, even though that wasn't
entirely true. There was only evidence enough to support its trueness.
It had been a
mistake to come here, Hedge realized. The visit would only bring disaster. The
Council may be wrong, but Hedge lacked the evidence and intellect to turn them
from such a course.
He turned back
down the path but found his way blocked by the towering form of a garden
acolyte as it moved toward him. The foliage on either side was too thick to
press through without damaging it. The acolyte had no eyes, no face, only a
thick green trunk with a great gathering of tendrils at the base that writhed
slowly like an octopus flexing faintly to keep itself level in the water. It
did not attempt to care for any of the plants on either side of the path, it
simply remained, too large to go around.
Hedge would
have to find a different way out.
He resumed
following the path and after a few steps his heel sank into soft dirt. At first
he thought he'd gone off the path, but soon realized he'd wandered into a cloister
of some sort where several of the paths converged and the soil was rich and
black. Unlike the rest of the garden, this patch was absent of plantlife but
for a solitary fat stalk as big around as his head that thrust out of the
ground.
The stalk arced
high over Hedge and his neck craned back to take in the rest of the plant. A
single leaf curled away from the trunk like the peel of a partially opened
banana, and the top was dominated by the huge, brown-budded face of an enormous
sunflower that hung over him like a dormant showerhead: the Plant of Ultimate
Knowing.
Light and fast
as he was able, Hedge made for the nearest open path. As he approached, another
acolyte stepped out of the growth and stopped on the path, filling it. He moved
toward the next, but an acolyte was already emerging. As he looked around the
clearing he saw that all the paths had been filled by silent watchmen. There
was no way out.
Hedge fumbled
with the toaster.
Why have you come?
The voice
boomed through the garden, slow and powerful like a rhinoceros plowing through
the soft husks of dead trees, emanating from everywhere and hammering Hedge's
mind with thundering boldface. Startled, the toaster fell out of his hands.
Hedge knew he
was trapped. The plant was surely already peering into his mind, reading the
long scroll of his thoughts as they unspooled from the typewriter: Run, Hide,
Anna, Bees. Full of mortification and despair, pity and frustration.
He opened his
mouth to respond, stooping for the toaster as he searched for the proper words
to use for a creature who had been extant for so many eons, realizing banter
and trite speak would be tiresome and that he should just get right to the
point. Then paused.
Something was
amiss.
The
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