The Speaker for the Trees by Sean DeLauder

of foliage was a small, potted weed with two red leaves
at its top. The stoppered mouth of a small vial protruded from the dark dirt
beside the stem.
    "Now,"
said the Plant of Ultimate Knowing, "we figure out where to put them."

A Brief Visit
    I am an
excellent guard, thought Trunk the guard. I am very excellent, he reasoned,
because no one ever goes through the council entrance without first being
announced.
    Trunk stood
outside the entrance to the Council of Plants. He was the only guard outside
the council entrance because, he assumed, he was very good at what he did. What
made one good at Trunk’s job, he decided, was to be very large, because that is
what he was. Trunk had a stocky shape with thick brown bark and two long
branches he would use to hold out in front of anyone who tried to enter the
council without being announced. Nothing of the sort ever happened, but he
imagined it would go something like that if it ever did.
    Trunk must have
nodded off, because abruptly there was a being standing in front of him. The
creature had the look of several plant agents who recently returned to provide
testimony that some far-off planet needed to be destroyed. Hyoo-munns or some
such. Like those agents, he too carried a toaster. All his features appeared
symmetrical except his mouth, which was slightly askew and maybe too large.
    The character’s
appearance was so peculiar Trunk realized with embarrassment that he’d
forgotten his duty.
    “Who are you?”
asked Trunk. “Why are you here?”
    “I am Mr.
Visitor.” Mr. Visitor pointed to his feet. “I am here due to a slight
miscalculation. I meant to be there.”
    Mr. Visitor
stared at the doors leading into the chamber.
    “Have you been
announced?” asked Trunk. When Mr. Visitor did not respond immediately, Trunk
continued. “You cannot enter without being announced. It would be very bad if
you entered before being announced.”
    The two stood
in silence for a moment, awaiting an announcement.
    “How bad?” Mr.
Visitor asked at last.
    Trunk wanted
very much to have a strong and compelling answer to this question, but since it
had never happened before, he didn’t.
    “I don’t know.”
    “I see,” said
Mr. Visitor. He looked down at his toaster and turned his thumb against the
side. After a moment he pressed a lever on the side of the toaster and looked
back up at Trunk. “My apologies for any inconvenience this may cause you.”
    Mr. Visitor
took a step forward.
    At this point
Trunk’s training took over and he slid his massive body between Mr. Visitor and
the door. He held out a great, gnarled hand, against which he expected the
visitor would run into, and, finding no way around him, admit defeat and wait
until he’d been announced.
    To Trunk’s
surprise, there was nothing to strike his open hand but a warm wave of air. The
visitor had gone. Trunk looked behind him, yet found nothing but the doors,
still shut. The two footprints in the dirt remained, but no tracks led to, nor
away from them. He waved a hand through the air above the footprints,
suspecting the fellow might somehow have turned himself invisible, but only
stirred up a faint odor of something burning that went away quickly.
    “Hum,” said
Trunk, perplexed.
    He considered
wandering from his post to search for Mr. Visitor, then considered the
possibility that wandering from his post was exactly the result Mr. Visitor
wanted. Trunk was too smart to be lured away, however, and he felt pleased that
he had not been so gullible.
    This sense of
pleasure gave way to curiosity as a sound of uproar grew behind the doors.
Knowing this was against protocol, but feeling clever and heroic at the moment,
Trunk threw open the doors and lunged inside, confident he could resolve any
issue.
    A great deal of
shouting was going on from the plants arranged throughout the council, full of
bile and outrage, all of which seemed to be focused on a single point at the
base of the room. At the epicenter Trunk found Mr.