The pan flutes played second fiddle for the time being, with Jack and Richard involved in the construction of a new Brenda and filling up the forms required to enroll it into the science fair. All the while, Richard’s parents and sisters walked around him on eggshells, making sure he wasn’t disturbed, bringing him his favorite foods and providing any assistance he happened to need.
The new Brenda was finished, packed and shipped, in a wave of anticipation and enthusiasm. This was the third Brenda already, if one didn’t count the oldest prototype, and it had become more and more sophisticated, since Richard felt the need to add features with every iteration.
The one thing that didn’t change was the device’s distinctive jellyfish configuration, and every time he thought about that, Richard was grateful that the plant swallowed Brenda One, who would have been a dead give-away of their trespassing and meddling in things that didn’t concern them. He sometimes thought about his secret weekend universe, the one where everything was in its place, the one he didn’t have to share with anyone, and he felt guilty about wanting to keep this little mechanical kingdom of his from Jack, who seemed to love it as much as he did.
Things used to be so much simpler back then, before the Brendas and the pan flutes, even though he had to admit the aforementioned gadgets were running circles around anything else Richard had built. As far as the pan flutes were concerned, if there is one truth to nature, it is that it abhors pointlessness, so the plant had found an use for the creepy little buggers: they organized themselves into some sort of beehive, inside which they melted the blossoms the plant was blooming especially for them into a little metallic maze where they retreated at night. The design of the metal structure was unbelievably intricate, but in the way nature designs, not man, no two compartments alike, but all bearing a resemblance that didn’t leave any room for doubt that they served the same purpose. It was wild, and intentional at the same time, and Richard couldn’t help but be in awe of the ingenuity of the little creatures.
Of course, because they were not based in biology, like Brenda, but pure mechanical devices, the pan flutes didn’t mind the high temperatures the plant generated when it didn’t have to protect living things, but even so, he had to wonder how they managed to generate enough energy to melt steel, and since Richard didn’t see how they could heat up to a few thousand Kelvins without melting themselves, he assumed they must have incorporated the plant’s electrolytic properties and were molding the metal by putting it in flux.
They hummed to each other, to point out the good locations to pick falling blossoms, and worked so diligently at tidying up their metal sculpture of a home they seemed to have been designed specifically for this purpose. The mystery was solved a few hours later, when Richard noticed a real beehive hanging from an end vine close to the top of the dome.
“It’s amazing!” Jack exclaimed. “This thing assimilates the properties of everything it comes in contact with! I can’t believe it infused the pan flutes with bee behavior!”
“We really need to go inside the dome, Jack!” Richard said, amazed at the pan flutes’ transformation.
“Did you hear a single word I said?” Jack shook him. “This thing adopts the qualities of everything that goes inside it! At best we’re going to have obsessive pan flutes that like to build little machines, at worst we’re going to build ourselves an anthill and insist on living inside it!”
“Or a burrow,” Richard said, following the logic. “It would make more sense, size wise.” He stopped for a second, to contemplate the possibility. “I hope I don’t inherit the behaviors of a water rodent, I’d rather not get inside that swamp, it really stinks!”
He managed to convince Jack, though, after constantly arguing his point, and reminding him a million times that the librarian seemed to have made it out ok.
“I wonder,” Jack postulated, “if there isn’t a little tree frog in there, chasing pan flutes and wearing rain boots!”
“Only one way to find out,” Richard smiled.
“But I can smell the swamp from here,” Jack complained with a disgusted look on his face. “I’m sure getting closer is not going to make it better,” he used the last argument in his arsenal.
“You know we’re going, right?” Richard ended the debate.
“Unfortunately,” Jack sighed.
The next weekend they started out bright and early, donning rain clogs on a sunny morning and grunting under the weight of the bags they carried. Richard wanted to make sure they had plenty of means to record and immortalize whatever they found inside the dome, and pads of paper to jot down a few notes if they had to. Between those, the bottles of water, the snacks and a change of clothes the bags were heavier than lead.
“At least it’s not scrap metal,” Jack mumbled under his breath.
“We’re almost there,” Richard picked up the pace, to reach the dome that was already visible as they passed the bend.
Richard didn’t wait for Jack, he dropped his bag and headed straight inside the dome, seemingly unaffected by the dreadful odor. Jack could see him walk around, careful as if stepping on eggshells, his countenance warped by the strange refraction through the uneven glass.
“You have to come in, Jack!” Richard said. “This is amazing!”
Jack hesitated at the natural entrance of the dome, through which he could already see a little self-contained world that was too beautiful for the wretched smell it exuded. The stench of the swamp blended with the powerful fragrances of several water plants, and amplified by the heat and humidity was almost impossible to bear, but this smelly greenhouse universe was teaming with life. A swarm of blue and brown butterflies fluttered overhead, reigning over a land of water dwelling creatures, and the chirping of the tree frogs, mixed with the songs of the birds and the weird harmonic tones of the pan flutes drowned the noises coming from outside. Jack gathered the courage to step into this other world, one that had its own sounds, and its own surreal images, and, unfortunately, its own smell. Distracted by his strange surroundings, he stepped into the shallow water and was startled by the soft squish his clogs made in the wet swamp grass.
“I guess it was a good idea to wear the clogs, right?” Richard said, with a beaming smile.
“This place is awesome!” Jack couldn’t help exclaiming. “Granted, the smell can choke a horse, but still awesome!” he looked around, amazed. “Is that a tree?” he frowned to make sure his eyes didn’t deceive him.
About half of the way up to the top of the dome, a tree had taken root on a thick branch of the vine. The roots didn’t seem to fit inside the vine altogether, and were sticking out through the bottom, like those of a pot bound house plant.
“I guess one of the water rats brought in an acorn,” Richard explained, naturally.
“You think it would let us climb to the top?” Jack asked, suddenly very interested, more of the plant than of his friend. “I wonder what else is up there?”
“Didn’t you say it wasn’t safe to come in here? Now you want to go even deeper?”
Richard protested, but his friend had already started climbing the thick vine, whose metal based shell was cooling down a path through scorching foliage, trying to keep up with him. Jack disappeared from sight, his presence still made manifest by a shuffling of leaves. The birds flew out of his way, dumping a scattering of hot blossoms on top of Richard’s head.
“Jack!” the latter yelled, rushing for cover. The pan flutes chimed in harmony, matching the tone of his voice.
“Up here!” Jack said, sticking his head out of the foliage. He was almost at the top of the dome, where the smaller, more flexible vines gave in visibly under his weight. “Come on, dude! Don’t chicken out on me now, you don’t know what you’re missing! I found a nest with eggs,” Jack laughed at him.
“What kind of eggs?” Richard asked.
“I don’t know, they’re purple,” Jack answered.
“There are no purple eggs!” Richard corrected him.
“Maybe the pan flutes laid them,” Jack offered generously.
“Don’t be a jerk, Jack!” Richard retorted.
“Come up, see for yourself!” Jack said, once again invisible inside a sea of metal leaves.
With every step up the vine, a different view presented itself, the floor, the under story, the canopy, the emergent layer. The foliage color changed from layer to layer, and so did the light levels, the temperatures, the variety of wild life. For all practical purposes, the plant had built its own universe, and its small self-contained world inside the real one was surreal and beautiful.
“I would never leave here!” Richard said, almost against his will.
“Aha! Now you know how it does it! I would be surprised if this sneaky plant didn’t ooze some sort of pheromone to keep us all smitten! No, seriously, dude! I think we should get out of here if we don’t want to start building a nest on that branch,” Jack pointed to a particular portion of the vine, where a nest with three purple eggs could be seen.
“You weren’t joking!” Richard said, surprised.
“I assure you I am a much more serious person than you think, my friend,” Jack protested, thoughtful. “Now, let’s get out of here, and try not to slip on that vine on your way down, it just dawned on me that climbing trees in wet clogs isn’t the smartest thing in the world.”
“What on earth is that dreadful smell!” Carol acknowledged her son’s presence way before he made his way through the door. “Good grief! Go! Change! Shower!” she urged Richard, who was only too happy to oblige.
“What are you rebuilding there, Ricky,” she questioned, using the despised diminutive for good measure. “I understand those are wetlands, but it reeks like a sewer!”
“The bacteria in the hot springs,” Richard apologized. “It’s the sulfur.”
“How can anything survive in that smell!” Carol remembered the stench and instinctively held her breath. “Surely, you don’t expect to remediate that! How are things going, anyway? You promised to take us see how your project is progressing, but, judging by that smell, you’re still ways off of showing results.”
Richard didn’t answer.
“How long do you think that project of yours will take?” Carol asked, worried that the horrid miasma was going to grace their home on a regular basis now.
“I really don’t know, mom,” Richard mumbled under his voice, and for once in the last year, he was telling the truth.
“Well,” Jack spoke philosophically a few hours later, nursing his vanilla float with a lack of interest that worried Richard, “I guess it wasn’t the aliens.”
“I will never take you seriously again,” Richard pouted. He was preparing to offer Jack a shoulder to cry on, only to find himself at the receiving end of his friend’s sharp tongue. “One of these days, Jack…” he said again, and as always he left the affirmation open ended.
“Oh, come on! Admit it! I had you!” Jack cracked up.
“Sometimes I wish it were the aliens,” Richard mumbled, still upset.
“Me too,” Jack volunteered eagerly. “Well, we can’t always get what we want, can we?”
“You know, my mom asked when she and dad can see the project,” Richard pointed out the obvious flaw in Jack’s plan.
“Can you believe some crazy person ventured inside that dome?” the malt shop owner whispered to one of her customers, in a conspiratory tone.
“I heard it smells like the dickens!” the lady replied. “Why would anybody want to go in there? And how do you know?” she remembered the obvious question.
“One of the hot spring bathers walked by the dome and saw foot prints inside,” the malt shop owner said, and then continued in a whisper. “Some say there are weird lights inside it, you can see them through the glass at night,” she shook her head while polishing the teaspoons. “I’m telling you, whoever got in there, they’re up to no good!”
“Who would go in that God forsaken area at night?” the lady said, sipping her coffee.
“Precisely,” the malt shop owner replied.
Richard wanted to say something, but Jack signaled to him to keep quiet, so they could listen to the unfolding conversation.
“They are not like you and I, those people,” she continued, wise and distraught. “Hear my words, there are horrible things going on inside that dome, unnatural things. I heard,” she said in a very low tone of voice, approaching her customer to whisper in her ear, “that if you are close enough, you can sometimes hear strange chanting from inside, and see shadows moving. I’m telling you, it is a shelter for perdition, what else could it be with that smell?” She turned around to put the teaspoons in the silverware drawer, and then continued, knowingly. “How can a place that smells like sulfur can be anything but evil?”
“I guess that pretty much covers it,” Jack commented to his friend. “It appears we ventured into…hhm,…uncharted territory, so to speak. I guess it wouldn’t be wise to mention this to anybody, you know, brimstone and all.”
Richard nodded, convinced by the pertinent argument, only to remember the little conundrum Jack’s cover story placed them in, with respect to what they were going to tell their parents.
“So, what should I tell my mother? Please don’t make me plant an acre of desert, just to give us a cover!” he looked pleadingly in Jack’s eyes.
“We, Snake! We are going to plant an acre of desert. Teamwork, my friend,” he smiled encouragingly, patting Richard on the shoulder.
“But I don’t know anything about plants! My mom would make me in two seconds! She’s a green thumb!” Richard protested, wretched.
“Then you should hit the books immediately, we don’t have a lot of time,” Jack suggested.
“Where do you want me to get the plants, and the tools,” Richard couldn’t believe his ears.
“Details, my friend!” Jack said.
“What about a source of water? You can’t grow anything without water, that’s why stuff didn’t grow there in the first place!” Richard continued complaining.
“Xeriscape, Jack. You always get lost in the minutia. Get the big picture and the details will take care of themselves,” Jack said, very convinced.
“No, they won’t!” Richard said. “When did the details ever take care of themselves?”
“Anyway,” Jack changed the subject. “Go home, get some sleep, we’re going to need to be well rested. Planting the desert is a lot of work!”
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