by Sandra Knauf
Zera took a deep breath. “I saw the Green Man and the Green Woman. They were giants. Like . . . gods.” She searched the expectant faces sitting around her. Something was holding her back from telling everything as she saw it. And how could she possibly explain something she didn’t understand? “The Green Woman, she was beautiful.” Zera looked at Grandma Wren next to her and suddenly felt panicked. She blurted, “They said that ‘wisdom has been defiled,’ that ‘man’s work must be stopped.’ That plants don’t know what they are any more, that the world is in trouble. I don’t even know what it all means!”
Hattie shifted in her chair. “Whoa. You saw this too?” she asked Grandma Wren. “A Green Man, and a Green Woman?”
“I saw the Creator,” Grandma Wren said. “Sinawaf.”
“What?” Hattie’s eyes went wide.
“One God, Hattie, many faces,” Nonny said.
“We saw what we needed to see,” said Grandma Wren. “We must do as we are asked. I remember how our people, when suffering from depression, as they call it now, when they felt empty they would go out alone, into the woods. With arms extended they would press their backs to a pine tree in order to draw from its power and revive their spirit. Now we take pills, made with synthetics. Our connection with nature has been ignored for too long. Without its health, we will never have real health again.”
Zera locked eyes with Grandma Wren. The next thing she had to say was even more confusing. “I know one thing. That this all has something to do with Uncle Theodore.”
Nonny stared at Zera. “Is that what you saw during the vision? Is that what the Green Man, or Woman, said?”
“No, but afterwards, I felt it. That this all has something to do with him. It’s hard to explain.”
Nonny nodded and a deep sigh followed. “I had the same feeling, that Ted was somehow connected to all this. The biotech industry, genetic engineering; I knew it had to have something to do with his work. Oh, when all that business started, I knew it was going to be bad, tinkering with the essence of life! Theodore must be involved in something horrible.”
“How horrible?” Hattie asked what Zera had been wondering since the revelation had came to her.
“Horrible enough for gods to come out of the sky and speak,” said Grandma Wren.
They sat in silence, pondering that. Hattie stood up and picked up the dirty dishes to take to the kitchen area, gesturing to Zera to stay seated when she tried to get up to help. “I had this thought that all this was somehow about global warming,” said Hattie. “Although that’s here, too. All this plant trouble began when chemical companies started splicing genes of different phyla together,” Hattie said.
A chill ran through Zera. This was all too much. She thought of the white roses on the porch, how they had opened, how beautiful they were, and how they had all died the next day. A feeling of dread, that things could be worse, much worse, filled her. The natural world will fight against all humanity. And humanity will lose.
“What is a phyla?” Grandma Wren asked.
“It’s the plural for phylum. Phylum is a scientific word for divisions of living things. For example, in the Animal Kingdom, all organisms with backbones, the vertebrates, are in one phylum, most of what we call insects are in another. Plants are in a separate Kingdom.” Hattie walked across the room and deposited the dishes in the sink, then grabbed a towel to wipe the table.
“Divisions?” Grandma Wren said. “That is strange. Our people always knew we were all connected, not divided into groups. The wind and mountains are as much our relatives as the animals and plants.”
“It’s about levels of being related genetically,” Zera said.
The puzzled expression did not leave Grandma Wren’s face.
“Remember, Grandma,” said Hattie, “how I told you they’d crossed a bacteria with the corn plant, creating insect-killing corn? Or when I ranted about the Beefy Fries? Mother Nature has always had certain boundaries that could not be crossed, like the impossibility, in most cases, of inter-breeding species. Working with nature, man has been able to develop plants and animals through selective breeding, and we’ve been able to clone plants naturally, but there have always been limits. Now they’ve crossed a potato with a cow, for God’s sake! And that’s not the worst of it.” She scowled.
“What could be worse?” Grandma Wren asked, her eyebrows raised.
Zera answered. “Genetically-engineered crops can’t be contained in their fields. Pollen can travel on the wind for miles; butterflies and thousands of other insects carry it too — animals carry it, we even carry it on our shoes, clothes, vehicles, in our hair. When pollen escapes and reproduces with wild plants, or non-genetically engineered plants, their offspring are then genetically modified. Nonny told me about this a long time ago.”
“And what did Theodore think about that?” asked Hattie. “about the contamination?”
“He said they were working on solutions to limit the problems.”
“To limit them?” Hattie spat out the words.
Nonny interrupted, “The danger is, once our wild plants are contaminated, many, many millions of years of evolution is disrupted. We cannot even guess at the potential for disaster. You can’t just look at the plants either. You have to look at every single organism that is even remotely connected to them — every human, every animal, every insect, every bacteria — each eco-system. Everything’s affected.”
Hattie had a disturbed, far-away look in her eyes. “The bugs that sip the nectar and eat the leaves, the birds that eat the bugs, the people who eat the meat which was fed on the biotech grain that the bees and birds have also fed on.”
Zera finished Hattie’s thought, “Everything’s linked.”
“Yes,” said Hattie. “We have no idea what we’re messing with. They didn’t even have the word ‘gene’ until the 1920s! Some have compared genetic engineering to the splitting of the atom.”
Zera couldn’t believe what she had heard. The splitting of the atom? “The atomic bomb?”
Hattie’s face twisted. “Yes, Zera, the ultimate weapon of mass destruction. Nonny, I know Ted’s your son and you love him, but there’s something demented about it. It’s like Frankenstein, creating, bringing to life, something that was not meant to be.”
Nonny looked out toward the black windows of the cafe. “I can’t help but think it’s my fault somehow.”
A sadness enveloped Zera as Nonny took a paper napkin from the table dispenser and dabbed her eyes. Then annoyance at her uncle reared its ugly head. Thanks a lot, Toad. It looks like you’ve really done it this time.
“I wasn’t there for him after his father died,” Nonny said. “I went off on my own to deal with my grief. I traveled, selfishly lost myself in other cultures. I ran away, left him, a frightened eight-year-old, with Sally, who was just seventeen. And I didn’t come back for months. When I did return, it was only briefly, then I’d take off again, absorbed in my own little world, my ‘spiritual seeking,’ when I had something more important at home the whole time. I was a terrible mother.”
I didn’t know that, thought Zera. I knew she traveled, but I didn’t know she left them for that long. I didn’t know she left Theodore when he was little . . . She looked at Nonny with new eyes; it was plain to see her grandmother was tormented, yet, now she felt sorry for her uncle. She knew how she felt when her parents died. So lost and alone, terrified.
Hattie walked over and gently touched Nonny’s shoulder. “We’ve all made mistakes.” She sighed. “I’m so sorry about the tirade. I’m just rattled, by everything. I can’t stop thinking about a quote I read once from the late Japanese master gardener, Masanobu Fukuoka. He said, ‘If we throw nature out the window, she comes back in the door with a pitchfork.’”
Zera saw Hattie shudder, and one reverberated through her own body.
“In the end, we can love and teach our children, but they have to find their own path,” Grandma Wren said, her voice steady and sure as she measured the words.
“As for your feelings, Guinevere, there is still time to heal your relationship with your son.”
“I apologized to them both years ago,” said Nonny, “Sally and I were okay. I knew Ted hadn’t forgiven me, but I thought I had forgiven myself. Maybe we never do.” She turned to Zera. “Right now it looks like we have a bigger problem. Do you know what he was working on?”
“No, I just know that on the way here he and Tiffany were happier than I’d ever seen them.” She thought for a moment. “Tiffany was excited the morning we left. They were going to meet someone important. She didn’t say who, though.”
“When they arrived, Tiffany was positively jittery, she was so anxious to leave,” Nonny frowned as she looked out the windows again into the black sky, still sputtering snow. “Ted acted suspiciously. Something was up then, and we need to find out what.”
“How do we do that?” asked Zera.
“I’m not sure. We’ll sleep on it, I guess. I hate to say this, just when we’ve been reunited,” a look of dread played across Nonny’s features, “but the first thing we’re going to have to do is track down Ted. I’ll call him, try to find out what’s going on. And we have to figure out how you play into this. I worried all evening, leaving you up here tonight with Grandma Wren. I shouldn’t have done that. I know one thing, I will not put you in harm’s way again.”
“Guinevere,” Grandma Wren said, “Zera has been chosen.”
Nonny’s expression of dread turned into one of horror. “She is a child, Nellie. That’s not possible.”
Another chill rippled through Zera. She hadn’t told them that the Green Woman had spoken directly to her, telling her that she must help. But Grandma Wren knew. Chosen? For what? And why me, when there are billions of others on this planet? The look on Nonny’s face made her decide she would not say anything more.
Grandma Wren said softly to Zera, “Trust that you will know what to do when it is time.”
Nonny heard. “She will not be chosen! I will not stand for this!” She glared at Grandma Wren.
The door blew open, thudding against the wall. Everyone jumped. Hattie yelped.
Cosmic Dan, wearing a hooded parka and covered in snow, stomped into the room. “Hi, ladies.” Seeing their startled expressions, he joked, “Gee, I didn’t know I was that ugly.”
Nervous laughter escaped from Zera and Hattie. Grandma Wren and Nonny showed no signs of humor. .
Chapter Twenty
For Theodore, the return trip to Void Corporate Headquarters in the helicopter and the limousine ride back to The Grand was a depressing blur. He went through the motions, saying goodbye to everyone, smiling, shaking hands, saying he felt great.
He walked into his penthouse suite and headed for the wet bar. Hands shaking, he picked up a cut crystal decanter full of scotch. He poured himself a tumbler, overfilling it slightly and spilling it onto the marble counter.
“Damn.” Theodore found napkins under the bar. He threw a few on top of the spill and shrugged. He brought the amber liquid to his lips, inhaled the harsh aroma, and found he couldn’t drink. No, he thought. I’ve got to keep my wits about me. Got to sort this out. He emptied the alcohol in the bar sink, and poured himself a glass of water, downing it in several long gulps.
He refilled the glass and ran his bumpy fingers through his now disheveled dark hair. What do I do? There has to be a way out. How do I take care of this? He felt sick, his mind full of images — beating hearts, breathing lungs, round pelts of hair, eyeballs. God, those eyes. His stomach lurched, like it might heave the water. He leaned forward, head down, both hands against the sink. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Langston and Troy looking at me, as if it were all so fine. So wonderful. They used me, just like BioTech did.
Theodore walked to an overstuffed chair, put the glass of water on a table, and flopped down. The chair faced the terrace. He sat there staring at the big city view, the buildings, the sky, the clouds.
He looked at his hands. The warts were back. Ugly. They’d never look normal, and it was his fault. They’d always be repulsive, because he was repulsive. No wonder Mom left. In the back of his mind he heard her voice. Just rub a potato on them, Ted, then bury it under a tree . . . What if I should have trusted Mom all along? He set his jaw, put his hands in his lap. He didn’t want to give in to her and her over-the-top beliefs. Mumbo-jumbo here. Genetic monsters there. What’s the diff?
He licked his still-dry lips, picked up the glass of water and took a gulp. Can’t go back to Piker, either. Sent in my resignation three days ago. Signed a contract with Void. The thought of that made him feel sick again and he put down the water. He couldn’t figure it out. Void seemed to have it all, everything. He could too, if he just went along with it. But the thought of signing that contract brought an image he knew he would never be able to shake — one of him selling his soul.
* * *
Theodore jolted from his half-sleep stupor when “Theodore, I’m back,” rang out like a cheap musical alarm.
Theodore turned in the chair to see Tiffany, two shopping bags in each hand. She wore a huge smile and yet another new outfit, a sleeveless polka-dot dress with platform shoes and pink tights. More pink, thought Theodore dully.
Tiffany’s bright expression faded. “Theodore, what’s wrong?”
Theodore lied. “I’m not feeling well.”
Tiffany sat the bags on the coffee table. She eyeballed Theodore, then touched his cool forehead. He got a whiff of her floral perfume and it reminded him of the lab. Nausea flooded through him. He pulled away.
“You don’t have a fever . . .” Tiffany said. “Did something happen today?”
“Yeah, something happened.”
“Well, what was it?” She sat on the sofa across from him, leaning toward him. “Is it something with the company? Langston? What? How long have you been sitting there?”
“I don’t know.” His voice sounded haggard even to himself, changed. “I saw some things today. I was affected by them.”
Tiffany’s cat eyes narrowed. “What things?”
“I can’t tell you. It has to do with the lab work. It’s top secret.”
“Oh, no. It’s not drugs is it? They haven’t engineered some kind of illegal drug or something?”
“No, it’s not drugs. Just let me be. There are some things I need to sort out.”
“Damn it, Theodore,” Tiffany stood, placed her thin hands on her boyish hips, “I’m your girlfriend, have been for a very long time.” Just as abruptly, she changed her tone. Softly she said, “You’ve got to tell me what’s going on. We’ve got a date to go out with Langston and Crystal tonight, to celebrate.”
The sparkly word “celebrate” turned to ashes in Theodore’s mind. “Tiffany, I saw some things that disturbed me, my own work.” He ran his hands through his hair again, his eyes glancing toward the window, avoiding Tiffany’s intense stare. “Maybe it should have been okay, but it wasn’t. I’m just not sure about anything anymore. I’m not sure . . . that I want all this.”
Tiffany stood looking down at Theodore, her small hands, now bedecked in several new, sparkly rings, were clenched at her side. Her expression had changed from concern to anger.
“What do you mean you’re not sure?” her voice became as low as his, and guttural, the growl of a tigress. “You can’t quit now, you signed the papers today, didn’t you? You’re the new president of the Biotech Division, right?”
“Yes.” Theodore saw Tiffany make an effort to unclench her hands. One of them went to her jaw line and she massaged it. The thought came to Theodore, it’s as if she’s trying to rub out the imperfection of it, and the imperfection of this conversation. A bitter smile came to his lips. If only it were that easy.
“You’ve worked hard for this,” Tiffany said. “This is everything we’ve wanted — you’ve wanted.” She took a deep breath. “Do you know what I think? I think you’re afraid of success. Look at your mother, having all that money, that successful seed company handed d
own through generations, and then going through some sort of ‘spiritual awakening’ she called it, and giving it all away. The business, all those stocks. You’ve had to work hard to get where you are. Why would you think of jeopardizing it?”
“It’s my life. It’s my decision. Just like it was my mom’s decision to live hers the way she wanted.”
Tiffany bent down, put a hand on Theodore’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Her voice softened even more. “I’m just confused. It’s hard to understand this complete change. I think you’re just unsettled. So much has happened in the last few days. Try to let it go, Theodore. It’s okay to be a success. Allow yourself to be a success.”
She looked into his face. “Say it with me Theodore, it’s okay to be a success.”
Theodore stiffened, jerked his shoulder back. “For crissakes, Tiffany. This isn’t a support-group meeting.”
Tiffany pulled her hand away. “If it weren’t for me . . . well, I don’t think you’re in any condition to discuss anything right now.” She jerked her head toward the wet bar. “You’ve been drinking, haven’t you? This whole place reeks like booze.”
Getting up, Theodore gave her a long, hard look. She seemed different to him now, desperate and silly. Almost pathetic. “Tiffany, you’re clueless.” He walked into the bedroom, closed the door behind him and locked it. As an afterthought he yelled, “Call and tell them we’re not coming tonight. At least I’m not. You can do what you want.”
Theodore took a shower and changed into a pair of jeans, the only ones he owned, and an undershirt. He could hear Tiffany crying in the other room. Exhausted, Theodore curled up on the bed. Within minutes he had fallen asleep.
* * *
From the phone came a soft voice, “Telephone call, Mr. Green. Telephone call . . .”
Theodore, drenched in sweat and breathing hard, opened his eyes but couldn’t see anything in the pitch black room. It took five rounds of “Telephone call, Mr. Green” before he figured out where he was. The nightmare was horrible. He reached out one trembling hand and picked up the phone.