There were also mobile plants; seeds and pollen with wings just like insects that used smell and primitive sight to seek their destination or sense predators. During summer the sky could be filled with seeds seeking fertile soil and flocks of flyers gorging on the feast. Then there were the family of walking plants, with jointed roots that acted like the feet of millipedes, carrying the plants to new sources of water or nutrient rich soil; and a family of animals that buried their fertilised eggs in the ground like seeds, the babies hatching out of the soil. But perhaps the strangest of all were the plants that sang or whispered to attract seeds, or screamed to warn off predators. It was also a planet of colour. On Earth an accident of evolution had seen a preponderance of chlorophyll in the process of photosynthesis, creating a dominance of green. But on this planet the plants had experimented with carotenoids, xanthophylls and rhodopsin, thus using the light across the spectrum and reflecting it back in a rainbow of colour: rich purple and blue grasses; yellow, orange and red leaves just like the autumn leaves in a deciduous forest; black undergrowth sucking up all possible wavelengths and reflecting nothing back.
She decided there wasn’t much to pack: a water container, a torch, a lighter, a sarong, a weather proof jacket just in case, although the weather report said it would be warm with only a few light showers. She had no need to take food. There was plenty to find on the journey: booboo fruit was out in abundance, chinko nuts, Tony’s grub and silver root; and she would follow the river so there was water and delicious sucker fish. The only real danger was Sapolsky’s darter, a fern like plant that would mistake humans for its primary predator and fire stinging darts to defend itself. Normally it would be wise to wear clothes as protection, but she was confident that she could avoid them. Otherwise there was no reason to wear clothes and she hadn’t done so for the three months she’d been doing her research. She thought she might dress when she reached the station, but that was only because she felt a little self-conscious: not because of her nakedness but because she had allowed her body hair to grow, on her legs, under her arm, on her pubic mound. Body hair was not entirely fashionable in the capital and most people had opted for genetically induced atrichosis. But then, dammit, she was a natural and naturals grew body hair. They would have to get used to it.
She had already said her goodbyes to the other residents of the settlement, so there was nothing stopping her. She swung her hand made backpack over her shoulders and climbed down to the ground. She took a last look around her and began her journey.
She saw them before they saw her: an unusual movement of foliage in the canopy. Perhaps they had planned a parting prank, like dropping purple tingle fruit on her head, creating a stain that would last for days, or even pissing on her (which was easily washed off).
“I can see you, you monkeys.”
She heard laughter and they dropped out of the branches. Soon around a dozen naked children had surrounded her; walking with her to the first river crossing, the boundary of the settlement.
“Bye Nuku.”
“We could never trick you.”
“Have a good adventure.”
“Wish I could come to the capital too.”
When they reached the river they all scrambled to give her a hug goodbye. She turned and headed to the river, looking back one last time to see them waving before she plunged in to swim across.
She had planned to take a different route out, one that would take her through an unexplored valley. Technically it was a short cut, but she figured it would still lose her a few hours, especially if she had to climb any steep ascents. Each new valley promised another new microclimate and ecosystem, and the thrill that she would be the first human to have walked through this ancient jungle.
Around midday she climbed a bjong tree and inched her way across a moss covered branch to reach its vividly red and orange striated fruit. The sensation was vaguely erotic when her clitoris and labia were stimulated as she slid her thighs over the slippery moss, but the compulsion to surrender to a masturbatory rocking motion was countered by the fact that the same slipperiness meant she had a tenuous grip and it was at least five metres down, enough to break a few bones. And although her guardian would immediately alert a medivac team and give them a precise location, it would still take a few hours of agony lying on the forest floor and a tricky rescue through the canopy by hover: something she had experienced working on a rescue team in her teens, abseiling into some remote location with a sled. Indeed, the most common form of death on this planet was accident; with people falling from mountains, cliffs or trees; or drowning in seas, lakes or rivers. Humans were incessant explorers and thrill seekers. The Common encouraged it and accepted the risk, and it was the job of the theraputae to fix what they could without a disapproving lecture. Anyway, there was a saying: better to die an adventurous death than fade away in a hospice.
She wrestled the fruit from the tree and dropped it to the ground where it split, then carefully climbed out of the tree. It was delicious, full of vitamin C and potassium, and enough to stave off hunger pangs until she found her next feed. She looked down at her skin. She was a sticky mess: a combination of dripping juice and slime from the moss. She shrugged her shoulders. There was no one to see and it could wait until she found a decent place to have a swim.
She had to climb a steep muddy incline to gain access to the small valley. The foliage was dense and there was little light, save for the occasional ray streaming through the canopy. It was humid and she was covered in beads of sweat as she used the roots of dark purple ground plants as a hand or foot hold. When she finally got to the top it was another difficult scramble down an equally difficult descent. At one point she lost her footing and half slipped and tumbled until she managed to grab a root. She was sore under her left breast and arm and on her right thigh and buttock; no doubt she would get a few bruises, but there were no abrasions, cuts or breakages. She was more cautious as she found her way down.
It had been worth it. The small valley was quite well lit, with sunlight filtering down through a canopy of red and orange leaves and purple and blue mid growth. She sniffed the air. It seemed benign. The slightest hint of bitterness or rankness might suggest some biological danger. There were species of fungi that could release spores and toxins. In the early days some people were driven mad by a hallucinogenic toxin released by Charlie’s shroom, which had a very pretty purple and pink cap and was very common. A remedy was found and the genome of the settlers tweaked to provide a natural antidote. They now provided a delicious sweet flavour for deserts.
In a beam of light she inspected her skin for parasites: sleeches or hooks (mite-like seeds that hooked into skin and caused a rash). It was difficult because now she was absolutely filthy and covered in mud. She would have to make a closer inspection after a dip.
She took her time exploring the valley. She retrieved her screen (it was intact, but then they were built to endure the outdoors) and used it to record what she thought could be new species and sub-species, especially a grove of whitish-pink coral-like fungi. The light of her guardian flickered as it sent the image automatically to the AI in the capital along with its precise location, thus contributing to the ever-expanding biological map held in the central database.
It was mid-afternoon when her guardian gently reminded her of the amount of daylight left. She would have felt safe staying overnight in the valley, but it would make her a day late, so she reoriented herself by calling up a map on her screen. She was at least fifteen klicks from the monorail, a half day of serious hiking. She pissed where she stood, put her screen back into her backpack and headed roughly NNW. Her instincts guided her to a creek where she drank and washed off some of the grime. Then she followed the creek to its source higher up.
By late afternoon she had climbed out of the valley and onto the slopes of the Parvarti Mountains. The landscape changed to open forest. Herds of small striped geesh goats grazed the purple-grey grasses and flocks of coloured flyers were feeding off s
eeds and nuts in the trees. Her first task was to find some sort of shelter. A rock overhang or cave would be ideal, or the hollow of a large bintu tree, provided it was unoccupied. Then she would have to find food, preferably some form of protein. The higher slopes had been well explored by hikers so she pulled out her screen and asked her guardian to display her options. It was better than she expected. A group of hikers had discovered a small cave next to a waterfall one klick to the east. They had also noted the food sources.
Higher up she had a glimpse of the snow covered peaks in the distance. On the top of a ridge she turned to see her beloved Tiangkok peninsula stretched out before her, with the deep blue of the Luminous Sea reaching to the horizon and the pinkish globe of the second moon Psyche beginning to rise, full and glorious.
With an hour of sunlight left she found a collection of nuts, tubers and delicious, sweet grubs for dinner. She washed every nook and cranny of her body in the waterfall, bracing against its icy coldness, and then set about building a fire. She wrapped her food in some spicy tango leaves, skewered it with a stick and carefully roasted it over open flames. The sun had set behind the mountains and as she cooked she watched the sky turn a dark blue, then violet as Psyche began to rise in the sky and the first stars began to shine.
Her food was cooked well and was tasty, but it needed to be followed by something sweet, in this case a bundle of yellow melon grapes, still a little unripe, but the extra acid tang gave them a welcome, cleansing taste.
The bright blue point of Apollo, the closest of the three gas giants, was rising out of the Luminous Sea when she nestled against a rock and turned on her screen. Her genetic mother was the first person she called, then some of her old circle. She explained that she would be in the capital about mid-afternoon. She caught up on small gossip and made arrangements. Everyone seemed happy and no one had heard of any special section two rumours.
After about half an hour of welcome chatter she turned off the screen and watched the bright stellar cloud of the Olympus nebula rise over the ocean. Zillions of stars and billions of planets and still they hadn’t encountered another civilisation. She began to doze, her eyes opening and closing, her thoughts beginning to slip into erotic imaginings when she thought she saw a flash in the sky. It couldn’t be. She hadn’t heard of any recent interstellar journeys. They were usually major news. She closed her eyes and surrendered to her body. She shuddered with an orgasm and fell into a deep sleep.
7
Biyu
It was a little chill early in the morning so Biyu put on a vest made of padded bango silk to keep her upper body warm. The gym was a twenty-minute ride away, a trip she took nearly every day. Today it was misty so it would be a particularly beautiful ride through the forest of tendril trees.
The capital was situated on an ancient volcanic archipelago surrounded by hundreds of islands. The Common had decided it would avoid concentrated, high-rise development. Instead the city was decentralised, with the only large buildings those that housed theatres, gymnasiums, sporting stadiums and industrial warehouses. Otherwise houses, shops and work places were built to blend into the landscape, leaving large swathes of untouched forest. To get around the city people either walked or rode bicycles over a network of pathways, or took the underground monorail. Most people preferred above ground travel, even if it took longer.
She kept a steady pace. This wasn’t a racetrack and she had to mind other cyclists. The first stretch took her along the coast, where a chill wind on her naked legs and buttocks made her think she should have slipped on some leggings. The mist obscured the view, but the smell of the sea and the crashing of the waves were still exhilarating. On a sunny day it was all too tempting to stop and admire the view across a bay dotted with dozens of rocky islands and brightly coloured sails.
Ten minutes into the ride she turned into the tendril forest, a thick tangled wood with multiple species of bromeliads attached to trunks and branches. The mist was lifting and the day was warming up. She freewheeled as she peeled off her vest and shoved it into the small compartment on the front of the handlebars. More cyclists appeared, making their way to whatever the day held. She was coasting down the hill past the Gabriel Village square with its restaurant serving breakfast and market stalls just setting up for the day’s trading. She was close now and more people were making their way from their homes, most were dressed in everyday sarongs, some were naked. She turned the corner and saw the playing fields and the familiar domes of the gymnasium with their intricate woodwork lattices styled like a spider’s web: all natural material except for the glass. She recognised the group of children walking in and waved: a group of naked young athletes, boys and girls, the regular early morning class. She sometimes helped coach them but today she was there to train.
Her training partner Suresh was already on the mat doing stretching exercises. He was a few years older and had been her training partner since she was five. He was her first lover: a brief, childish affair that had begun when she had started to notice his pubertal growth spurt. He had walked out of the showers semi-erect and she teased him in front of the others, asking him if he had started to ejaculate yet. She should have known that he always bested her at teasing games. He just smiled and exclaimed loudly, so everyone could hear, “why don’t give it a pull and see?” The challenge was official and a small group gathered to egg them on. She approached him with her usual bravado, which thinly masked her nervousness. This was the first time she had masturbated a boy to orgasm (she had certainly fondled or teasingly played with them) and she wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing. The others started a chant, “spurt, spurt, spurt”. She did the best she could and then to clapping and cheers he ejaculated.
Later she took him aside and said, “you can fuck me if you want.”
It wasn’t meant to be serious, just mutual experimentation and she treated it like any other physical skill she needed to master. He had been the one to end it, when he noticed that she was starting to look at some of the girls. Somehow that period cemented a bond. Suresh knew her better than anyone, knew her strengths and limitations.
“You’re early,” she said as she joined him.
He was doing the splits using a riser to stretch his legs well beyond the parallel, leaving his silly male genitals dangling - which still amused her and usually invited a friendly tickle when she could surprise him.
“Not by much. I had a burst of enthusiasm, been for a swim,” he said.
She wanted to tell him about the section two but decided it could wait. She desperately wanted to stretch and work out some of the tightness from her run the day before. He knew the routine and together they stretched and contorted their hyper-flexible bodies, giving each other an extra push here and a pull there to loosen every muscle and tendon.
This session was designed to practice their uneven bars routine. Gymnastics had integrated with acrobatics. As skill levels increased athletes devised new ways to challenge themselves. The twin uneven bars of old Earth had been replaced with ever more complex combinations of horizontal and vertical poles. Today they were working with a Mawa circle, which, as the name suggested, was a serious of horizontal bars in a circle formation, with one bar in the centre. This allowed for a number of routines performed either solo or with other athletes.
She was the first, running fast toward the springboard, jumping high with a somersault mount and then a series of grand swings to give her the momentum to fly to the higher levels. When she had reached the top, Suresh mounted and they performed a complex routine: saltos, flips, kips, twists, and handstands, including an outside flight from the top bar, arching over the second highest to catch the next bar down: a difficult move that required precision and strength to catch the bar at high speed. She had missed many times and smashed hard into the mat, winding herself on more than one occasion. The most dangerous were the crossovers where they would fly from one bar to another, missing each other by centimetres. If one of them miscalculated the timing or had their
body in the wrong position they could collide and cause serious, bone crunching injury. Yet to play it safe was to create a dull routine. It was the danger that caused the thrill and got the applause.
When they finished a near flawless routine they retired to the showers. These were at the end of the great hall on the other side of the Olympic standard lap and diving pools; out in the open in a mock grotto overhung with bell orchids and red fern. They washed each other down as they had always done, and then they headed to the canteen for a well-deserved meal: a careful balance of protein, carbohydrates and micronutrients. It was when they had finished and were relaxed that she mentioned the section two.
“I can’t compete in the match,” she said suddenly.
He looked at her quizzically.
“A section two.”
He remained silent for a moment and looked down at his protein drink. “When?”
“Immediately… Tomorrow.”
“Really?”
She nodded and shrugged her shoulders. “I hope it’s physical: farm work or labouring, I need a good dose of upper bodywork.”
He smiled at her single-mindedness and changed the subject. “What are you doing this afternoon?”
Paradise Reclaimed Page 3