Offhand, I didn’t have an answer. So I stopped by the next guard.
“Pardon me, but I’ve noticed that the airflow and the pathways are designed to separate viewers from the trees. Why is that?”
“Lignin borer grubs. They’re tiny, but they’re everywhere outside the arboretum.”
On the surface, that didn’t make sense. All vascular plants—all T-type vascular plants—contained some lignin within the cell walls.
The guard must have read my expression, before I could ask, he went on. “I don’t know all the details. Something about the greater the concentration of lignin cells in a plant, the more attractive the plant is to the borers, and big trees are like a beacon. The grubs don’t like T-type light either.”
“What about local plants?”
“The biologists say most of them have some natural repellent, unless the plant is weakened.”
“Thank you.” Another peculiarity of Stittara to check out.
He just nodded, and I continued on for several hundred yards, where there was a larger circular area where people could stop and look at a birch grove. At first, at a distance, I’d thought they might be aspens, but realized that was unlikely, given that aspens didn’t do well in low-altitude high-atmospheric pressure conditions.
I just looked at the birches for a time, not sure even what I was thinking, then was about to go when I realized that a dark-haired woman and a boy about five were standing less than two meters away.
She was blotting her eyes and cheeks, then looked at me, almost guiltily. “I’m sorry. I miss the trees … even after all these years…”
“You don’t have to apologize,” I said gently. “I take it you’re not originally from Stittara?”
“From Bachman.” She took a filmy tissue and blotted her eyes again. Then she sniffed.
I wondered why she’d come, but I didn’t ask, just tried to look sympathetic, hoping she’d say.
“My husband … he had a choice … a transfer to the Technology Ministry field office…”
“Or a reduction in force?”
She nodded, then asked, “How did you know?”
“I’m from Bachman. I’m a consultant on a field assignment. I understand what happens when the politicians let public opinion override good decision-making”
“Why did you come here, of all places?”
“Money,” I replied wryly, “and a costly dissolution.” I shouldn’t have said that, but her openness had disarmed me … after all the days of careful monitoring of what I said—another reminder that I’d never have made it in a field requiring covert operations.
“I’m sorry…”
“That’s all right. She left me before it all happened.”
“Mommy…” The five-year-old tugged at her singlesuit. “Can we go now? You said we wouldn’t stay too long.”
I smiled. “You’d better listen to your friend there.”
“I suppose I should. Thank you for listening.”
“I’m glad I was here to listen.”
She smiled, tentatively, then took her son and headed back down the pathway.
Even with the tears, she’d been attractive, but I felt sorry for her, not anything else. I was already beginning to see how hard living on Stittara could be for someone from an open world.
After that, I took my time, pausing, looking at trees, recognizing many, but having to link with the arboretum information system to identify others, such as a catalpa, a sycamore, and a bristlecone pine, identified as the oldest individual tree in the arboretum. There was also a note that several T-type trees, such as giant redwoods and sequoias, could not be accommodated because of their height. All in all, it was a respectable collection, and I spent over two stans making my way all the way around the facility.
As I was standing on the terrace, about to make my way back out through the elaborate pressure-door system, I heard a child, a boy, I thought, talking. I turned, slightly, not enough that the woman could think I was trying to make eye contact, although she was alone with the child.
“Mommy … why don’t we have trees like this outside?”
“They won’t grow there, dear.”
“Why not?”
“They just won’t.”
“That’s sad…”
I didn’t know that it was sad, but the environmental separation technology and precautions were rather elaborate, even as a prevention for a borer grub or the like, especially given that the outies were clearly growing some variety of T-type crops, and the cities and installations were synthesizing and tank-growing similar foodstuff. That raised another question, one that I could certainly ask without raising alarms … if I didn’t find an answer in the Survey files and records.
Given that it was already past midafternoon, I decided to visit the public garden on sevenday. What else was I going to do?
24
Much as I wanted to sleep in on sevenday morning, I found I couldn’t because too many questions were swirling around in my mind. After readying myself for the day, I did go to my office and look up the lignin borer grub. The arboretum guard’s explanation had been greatly oversimplified. The grubs were a larval stage of a lichen beetle that attacked the roots of the local lichen/grass symbionts, except they were only marginally successful because the anagathic precursors in grass functioned as a grubicide, so to speak, so there was a low beetle population in the natural Stittaran ecosystem under normal conditions. The grubs also required a long larval period and didn’t do nearly so well with smaller vascular plants with a faster life cycle, such as decorative angiosperms, i.e., flowers. I wondered if trees that had floral displays, like dogwoods or magnolias or tulip trees, might have been more resistant to the grubs … but the information I could find didn’t address that.
I also ended up doing a series of searches on pests affecting outland cultivation. I didn’t find anything. Then I wondered about native trees, or their equivalent, and spent some time on that, discovering that there were a few hundred native species, none of them particularly impressive in height or in numbers, and virtually all of them were located in either rugged or mountainous terrain. They all were analogous to T-type gymnosperms, although there were some minor differences. I didn’t find anything that would have disproved congruent evolution, but I didn’t expect anything like that because, the theorists to the contrary, so far humans hadn’t found any complex life forms that weren’t essentially carbon-based.
As in any research, one thing led to another, and it was already early afternoon when I decided I’d been digging in files and records for all too long, and made my way out of the Survey offices. I wasn’t all that hungry and decided on an early dinner after I’d inspected the public garden.
Once again, I boarded a tunneltram, this one headed to the eastern side of Passova, and less than half full. After I got off, I had to consult my link again because the tunnel directions didn’t make much sense. I didn’t have to go down any levels, but stayed on the tram level and walked a good half kay almost due south. All the walking through tunnels and from tram stops to my various destinations did suggest one reason why I’d hadn’t seen any generously overproportioned residents of Stittara. I supposed that some of the more affluent residents might have small tunnel vehicles, but I certainly hadn’t seen any.
From the open underground space outside the public garden, it appeared similar to the arboretum, and the admission charge was the same. Even though it was a sevenday, when fewer people were working, I only saw three other people at the linkiosks as I walked up. Once I went through the first pressure doors I could tell there were definite differences. There were no decontamination spaces, just another set of pressure doors leading into the garden.
The terrace just inside the garden was similar to that at the arboretum, but in addition to the signs forbidding visitors to leave the walk, there was another very large sign.
POSSIBLE ALLERGENS
ENTER THE GARDEN
AT YOUR OWN RISK
; I glanced around and noticed several people walking toward me, apparently ready to leave the garden, who were wearing masks across their nose and mouth. Almost in reaction, I found myself taking in a deep breath. To me, the air felt more alive than it did in the tunnels or in my quarters, but I could see tears oozing from the eyes of one woman who hurried past me and out of the public garden.
For a moment I studied the garden, roughly half the size of the arboretum. While there were low walled walks leading through the garden, there were far more walks and fewer guards, and there were no obvious indications of a differential air barrier system. Then I took the path that headed to the far right, simply because it was empty. The first flower bed had been tilled, but contained no plants. There were no signs and no link notices explaining why.
The second bed held a sort of bushy creeping vine called Oragrape. I’d never heard of it. The third held an array of irises, but they’d apparently stopped blooming and were turning brownish because it was past their season … or because the lignin grubs had gotten to them. But the thorny roses in the next bed were tiny, with a pervasive gentle scent so sweet I just stood there enjoying it for a time.
Somewhere amid the flowers, I came across a plant with white petals called a daisy. It looked familiar, and yet I couldn’t recall ever seeing one. Then I remembered that the flowers looked similar to the one on a single stem that I’d seen Ilsabet carrying. A daisy. I tried to fix the image and the name in my memory because I didn’t want to record it in my link.
I kept walking and looking at flowers, many of which I’d never seen and which had to have come from outside the Arm. Some that I recognized were sweet Williams and sour Anns, morning glories, sunflowers, black-eyed Susans, violets of several varieties. There were only a few roses after the wild thorny kinds, and several of those were clearly ill, but that made sense because they were woodier and perennials. The lower and greener varieties seemed to do better, unsurprisingly.
In the end, I hurried past the last score of flower beds, and it was late enough in the afternoon that I was almost alone when I left, except for several women, clearly older and to the point where anagathics were no longer much help. Two of them wore anti-allergen masks as well. At least, that’s what I assumed they were.
Once I got off the return tunneltram, before heading back to my own quarters, I stopped at Carlo’s to see if it happened to be open. It was, and less than half the white plastreen tables were occupied. The hostess motioned, and I got a table against a wall, well away from the fountain. I looked around, but I didn’t see any greenery, and no flowers, not even artificial ones. Some of the reason for the lack of floral decoration might have been that Stittara had been colonized from Bachman, but there were certainly some flowers on Bachman. I knew, from having been politely chastised for not occasionally presenting them to Chelesina on what she thought were appropriate occasions when we had first been married. I had learned, though, and that was why I was somewhat aware of floral necessities, except they didn’t seem to be anything close to necessities on Stittara.
The server was a woman, not young enough just to have finished her education, whatever it might have been, but also likely not to have been more than ten years older than that. Her glossy black hair was cut moderately short, just below the ears. She had a welcoming smile when she asked, “Would you like something to drink before you order?”
“Yes, please. A glass of the house white.” I hadn’t forgotten my experience with the lager the last time I’d been at Carlo’s.
“You’ve been here before, haven’t you? With the two from the Survey Service, weren’t you?”
“I was. You didn’t serve us, though, did you?”
She smiled and shook her head. “Clenton did.”
“What do you recommend this afternoon?”
“Well … it is evening … and the evening special is lasagna. It’s good.”
I grinned. “Now that you’ve done your duty, what would you suggest?”
“The fowl piccata is really good.”
“Then I’ll have it, with a green salad of some sort.”
“I can do that for you.” She smiled again, and her eyes met mine, if but for an instant. Then she was gone.
I was glad of that, because I’d been getting too many looks I was afraid I recognized, and I had no idea why. Oh … I knew some of the reasons why women were attracted to men who did not have overwhelming talent or charisma, and all of them amounted to some sort of power. The problem was that I didn’t have anything remotely connected to either wealth or power. I was decent looking and had some assets. I wasn’t in a position of power, bureaucratic, political, or otherwise.
The other aspect of those looks was that those who were doing the looking were almost random. At least, I couldn’t figure out anything they had in common.
The fowl piccata was indeed excellent, and the service even more so.
Tips were customary on Stittara, and I left a generous one.
My server looked at it, then offered a smile somehow both pleased and sad, then said, “Thank you so much.” She smiled once more. “If you come again, you can ask for me. I’m Giselle.”
“I’m certain I’ll be back, Giselle.”
That brought forth another smile, and another intense look. I returned the smile, inclined my head, then rose and left the café.
After leaving Carlo’s I walked back to my quarters. I didn’t see a single sign of greenery, especially no flowers. Not a single plant.
25
I’d only been in my space a few minutes on oneday morning when Aloris peered in and said, “You’re here early. How was your weekend? Or did you spend all of it here working?”
“Of course. I slaved straight through, then hurried to my quarters, cleaned up and returned, without food, water, or other nourishment…” I offered a grin. “No. I did some work, but I also toured the arboretum and the public garden.”
“The arboretum is interesting … in a way…”
“What do you mean by ‘interesting’?”
“It’s amazing that they’ve been able to keep it in such good condition for so long.”
“Because of the lignin borer grubs? Or something else?”
“Unmodified T-type vascular plants don’t do well here. The borers aren’t the only potential parasite. Many of the beetle species are more analogous to T-type termites, and they regard most T-type plants as preferable to the local variety, but they tend to gorge and die because of what’s essentially a glucose imbalance or overdose. By then, it’s usually too late for the plant or tree. I’m sure you’ve discovered that.”
“Actually, I didn’t come across the imbalance. I did find some references to the fact that only short-lived and fast-growing varieties of T-type plants do well, and I noticed there weren’t many woody flowering plants in the garden. There’s not much on the modifications.”
“That’s not my area, but the outies have found or forced crosses that seem to thrive and that we can digest. They’re not much interested in decorative plants, for obvious reasons. If you want to know more, you might want to talk to Dylen Mallon about it. He’s in research.”
“Thank you. How was your weekend?”
“Quiet, and that’s how I like it.” She softened the terseness of her words with a smile, fleeting though it was.
“I can appreciate that.”
She nodded and slipped away.
Should I try to contact Syntex, ABP, and Valior once more … or give them until later in the day? I decided to wait a little longer, although patience had never been one of my strongest traits.
As I pondered over what Aloris had said, what I couldn’t figure out was how crops got pollinated if there weren’t any flowers native to Stittara, because there hadn’t been enough time for native pollinators to adapt to imported food crops. A quick search revealed that the local sawfly had adapted and that the outies had early on imported digger bees, and the combination seemed to work. Who was I to argue with that, even if I
did have questions?
Her offhand reference to Dylen Mallon in “research” raised yet another question. How many subdivisions of the Stittaran Survey Service were there, especially those unique to Stittara? I tried a search for “research,” and found it quickly, located as a subdivision of Enforcement under Jorl Algeld. What the main directory didn’t tell me was how people fit in the organization structure. Oh, there was a complete directory of people, alphabetically listed, and there were the main branches of the Survey Service, with the media divisions below that. Period.
I needed to know more, and Zerlyna was the logical one to give me access, or at least as logical as Aloris, and Zerlyna seemed a bit friendlier. Before I went to see her, though, I studied my assignment contract closely to see if it said what I thought it did. It did, or at least close enough.
So I got up and headed to find her.
“You’re here early, Paulo,” Zerlyna said, before I said a word when I stepped into her spaces. “You must want something.”
“I do. How do I get the background on the environmental specialties of Survey Service personnel? The directory is too sketchy.”
“By demonstrating need to know. Why do you need to know?”
It was a good thing I’d thought that out. “So that I can report whether there are enough technically qualified personnel covering each environmental medium with the qualifications to evaluate and assess potential problems.”
“Isn’t that a stretch from an ecological survey?”
The One-Eyed Man Page 13