system with a single solar body and several planets of varying
sizes. Some ringed with moons, others surrounded by rings of debris which might
have been moons. They orbited a rather small, middle-aged star, which grew
larger as the weed manipulated the view through means Hedge could not detect.
When it stopped moving forward there was a planet in the center of the display,
the third in the system and one of the smaller of them.
"That's
it!" said the Plant.
"It's kind
of small," Hedge observed.
"It's
perfect."
Hedge shrugged
and leaned in for a closer look. There were bands of white running across the
blue planet, just as there had been on the old world, and continents were
crusty plates of brown and green. Maybe there were animals there already,
thought Hedge. Maybe some other sentient creature, perhaps, that could teach
humanity to behave themselves. Maybe, with time, the Council of plants would
forget their initial decision and allow humanity to join their administration.
Or maybe humans would prove to be the doom of the universe after all and ruin
it for everyone.
As he leaned
closer, to see if he could detect any signs of civilization, the whole display
went suddenly white, then shut off.
"What
happened!?" cried Hedge.
Had the star
gone suddenly nova as they were watching? The odds of such a coincidence were staggering.
It was amazing and tragic. But the star was so small, and relatively young as
well. It was neither old enough nor large enough to explode. Unless someone had
blown it up.
"I erased
it," said the Plant. "No one else should know. That should give us a
head start."
Hedge let out a
puff of air. That made sense. If there was no record of the system, the other
plants couldn't very well go looking for humans there. Then again, if there
were no record of the system, there was also no way of knowing where it was
located.
"But how
will we find it?"
"I can
find it," the Plant assured him.
"What
about when they discover this area of unexplored space? Won't they come to
investigate to complete their records? What will we do then?"
"That's
assuming anyone bothers to check. For all they know, it's just a very tiny,
mostly vacant smudge of universe, just like the majority of the rest. The
likelihood of being discovered and caught is very, very slim at best. The
Universe, as I’m sure you know by now, is a very big place."
Hedge decided
the weed must be correct and, feeling greatly relieved, stood up, tucked the
pot under his arm and began to move away from the terminal. What could possibly
happen? The answer, as the weed had made patently clear, was nothing.
"Stop!"
The voice was
tiny with distance but grew larger when it repeated. Coming closer.
Hedge
stiffened. If he bolted it would only draw more attention. So close! How did
they know? Had John Elm figured out what he was up to and alerted the Council?
If so he'd surely be mulched. A wave of sadness swept over him. Not just for
himself, but for the Plant of Ultimate Knowing and humanity as well. Soon he
would be surrounded by troopers who would take him to a makeshift Mulchitorium
and that would be the end of him, the end of the Plant of Ultimate Knowing and
the end of humanity. Thrice a failure.
But no. He
couldn't allow this to happen. Not to Anna. Not to everyone and everything.
Maybe he could bluff his way out of this. Plants weren't accustomed to
deception so they might be fooled by it. As he had learned from humanity, the
best way for the guilty to elude prosecution was to behave as though they had
done nothing wrong.
When he turned,
John Elm was running toward him and several more lingered in his steps. John huffed
and gasped for a few moments after he arrived, folded at the waist, and looked
up occasionally as though he were about to speak, then receded back into
gasping. Hedge's mind raced for an appropriate lie in the meantime.
Why was he in
possession of the humanity he was supposed to file away? There must be a
mistake. No no. That
sizes. Some ringed with moons, others surrounded by rings of debris which might
have been moons. They orbited a rather small, middle-aged star, which grew
larger as the weed manipulated the view through means Hedge could not detect.
When it stopped moving forward there was a planet in the center of the display,
the third in the system and one of the smaller of them.
"That's
it!" said the Plant.
"It's kind
of small," Hedge observed.
"It's
perfect."
Hedge shrugged
and leaned in for a closer look. There were bands of white running across the
blue planet, just as there had been on the old world, and continents were
crusty plates of brown and green. Maybe there were animals there already,
thought Hedge. Maybe some other sentient creature, perhaps, that could teach
humanity to behave themselves. Maybe, with time, the Council of plants would
forget their initial decision and allow humanity to join their administration.
Or maybe humans would prove to be the doom of the universe after all and ruin
it for everyone.
As he leaned
closer, to see if he could detect any signs of civilization, the whole display
went suddenly white, then shut off.
"What
happened!?" cried Hedge.
Had the star
gone suddenly nova as they were watching? The odds of such a coincidence were staggering.
It was amazing and tragic. But the star was so small, and relatively young as
well. It was neither old enough nor large enough to explode. Unless someone had
blown it up.
"I erased
it," said the Plant. "No one else should know. That should give us a
head start."
Hedge let out a
puff of air. That made sense. If there was no record of the system, the other
plants couldn't very well go looking for humans there. Then again, if there
were no record of the system, there was also no way of knowing where it was
located.
"But how
will we find it?"
"I can
find it," the Plant assured him.
"What
about when they discover this area of unexplored space? Won't they come to
investigate to complete their records? What will we do then?"
"That's
assuming anyone bothers to check. For all they know, it's just a very tiny,
mostly vacant smudge of universe, just like the majority of the rest. The
likelihood of being discovered and caught is very, very slim at best. The
Universe, as I’m sure you know by now, is a very big place."
Hedge decided
the weed must be correct and, feeling greatly relieved, stood up, tucked the
pot under his arm and began to move away from the terminal. What could possibly
happen? The answer, as the weed had made patently clear, was nothing.
"Stop!"
The voice was
tiny with distance but grew larger when it repeated. Coming closer.
Hedge
stiffened. If he bolted it would only draw more attention. So close! How did
they know? Had John Elm figured out what he was up to and alerted the Council?
If so he'd surely be mulched. A wave of sadness swept over him. Not just for
himself, but for the Plant of Ultimate Knowing and humanity as well. Soon he
would be surrounded by troopers who would take him to a makeshift Mulchitorium
and that would be the end of him, the end of the Plant of Ultimate Knowing and
the end of humanity. Thrice a failure.
But no. He
couldn't allow this to happen. Not to Anna. Not to everyone and everything.
Maybe he could bluff his way out of this. Plants weren't accustomed to
deception so they might be fooled by it. As he had learned from humanity, the
best way for the guilty to elude prosecution was to behave as though they had
done nothing wrong.
When he turned,
John Elm was running toward him and several more lingered in his steps. John huffed
and gasped for a few moments after he arrived, folded at the waist, and looked
up occasionally as though he were about to speak, then receded back into
gasping. Hedge's mind raced for an appropriate lie in the meantime.
Why was he in
possession of the humanity he was supposed to file away? There must be a
mistake. No no. That
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