refuse to pay out on. At this particular moment, Chris was imagining an alliance along the lines of roasted hazelnuts and praline. Epic, righteous, corporation-defeating, roasted hazelnuts and praline. Luke was imagining the ceiling caving in.
“Hi,” said Luke, still poised to duck under the desk.
Chris had spent the past few hours trying to work out how to present her proposal without seeming uncomfortably deranged. She had eventually decided “What the hell, I’ll wing it,” but as the silence in the office grew awkward, she realised this plan had serious flaws.
“I’d like to show you something,” said Chris at last.
She waited by the doorway, and Luke peered at her with a blend of apprehension and curiosity.
“You have something better to do?” grinned Chris.
* * *
The linoleum sucked on the soles of Luke’s shoes, and he decided that his office wasn’t actually so bad. Chris pushed open the door to her office, and Luke stepped inside warily.
The room was pungent with the scent of herbs, and splashes of colour burst across a million shades of green. It was like a secret underground cavern, brimming with botanical curiosities.
“Impressive,” said Luke. “Did they let you dig up the floor like that?”
“Um, moving right along,” said Chris.
Chris lined up a series of clay pots and glass jars across the desk, and Luke leaned in cautiously.
“This is what I wanted you to see,” said Chris.
She pushed forward a small potted plant with mottled brown leaves, hinged like fleshy jaws.
“Crocodilia muscipula,” said Chris.
She brushed the surface of a lightly haired leaf with the tip of a pencil, and the jaws snapped shut with an audible clack.
The pencil splintered.
Luke leaned back, his gaze darting nervously to the crowd of plants surrounding him, suddenly feeling as though he’d wandered into the middle of a posse. Not seeming to notice his reaction, Chris picked up a small glass jar, which appeared to contain a dark vapour. As she carefully unscrewed the lid, Luke found himself leaning forward with horrified fascination.
A black tendril drifted from the open jar, then several more followed, rising like tentacles of smoke. On closer inspection, Luke could see they were shaped like ribbons of grass.
“Coma fumidia,” said Chris, using a pair of chopsticks to gently push the wafting leaves back inside the jar.
“Why are you—?” Luke began.
“One more.” Chris took a glass bowl filled with water from a high shelf.
A single succulent plant floated on the surface, its translucent green leaves spiking outwards like a bouquet of quartz.
Chris switched off the lights, and the room was plunged into humid darkness—except for a soft glow emanating from her cupped hands. The small, floating plant was luminous with blue-green light, throwing shimmering ripples across the basement walls.
“It doesn’t even have a name yet,” said Chris, gazing at it with wonder. “It’s the only plant we’ve found in which the luciferin substrate gene occurs naturally. All the bioluminescent plants now known are transgenic, and it’s incredibly energy intensive. This plant not only generates the luciferase enzyme, but its metabolism can handle it.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Chris paused, as though about to jump off a cliff, possibly taking Luke with her.
“I’m looking for a rare plant, and I need your help,” said Chris.
“I’m not a biologist. Or a cartographer. Or a philanthropist. Or a mercen—”
“It’s in Eden.”
There was an exceedingly uncomfortable silence. Luke switched on the light.
“All these things, they exist,” Chris waved her arms at the plants, and some waved back. “People dispute their existence, but they’re real. Unfortunately, you can’t just run to the news and say ‘Look at this!’ unless it’s a cucumber shaped like the nativity scene. Unless you have several research papers full of testable hypotheses and peer-reviewed studies, no
“Hi,” said Luke, still poised to duck under the desk.
Chris had spent the past few hours trying to work out how to present her proposal without seeming uncomfortably deranged. She had eventually decided “What the hell, I’ll wing it,” but as the silence in the office grew awkward, she realised this plan had serious flaws.
“I’d like to show you something,” said Chris at last.
She waited by the doorway, and Luke peered at her with a blend of apprehension and curiosity.
“You have something better to do?” grinned Chris.
* * *
The linoleum sucked on the soles of Luke’s shoes, and he decided that his office wasn’t actually so bad. Chris pushed open the door to her office, and Luke stepped inside warily.
The room was pungent with the scent of herbs, and splashes of colour burst across a million shades of green. It was like a secret underground cavern, brimming with botanical curiosities.
“Impressive,” said Luke. “Did they let you dig up the floor like that?”
“Um, moving right along,” said Chris.
Chris lined up a series of clay pots and glass jars across the desk, and Luke leaned in cautiously.
“This is what I wanted you to see,” said Chris.
She pushed forward a small potted plant with mottled brown leaves, hinged like fleshy jaws.
“Crocodilia muscipula,” said Chris.
She brushed the surface of a lightly haired leaf with the tip of a pencil, and the jaws snapped shut with an audible clack.
The pencil splintered.
Luke leaned back, his gaze darting nervously to the crowd of plants surrounding him, suddenly feeling as though he’d wandered into the middle of a posse. Not seeming to notice his reaction, Chris picked up a small glass jar, which appeared to contain a dark vapour. As she carefully unscrewed the lid, Luke found himself leaning forward with horrified fascination.
A black tendril drifted from the open jar, then several more followed, rising like tentacles of smoke. On closer inspection, Luke could see they were shaped like ribbons of grass.
“Coma fumidia,” said Chris, using a pair of chopsticks to gently push the wafting leaves back inside the jar.
“Why are you—?” Luke began.
“One more.” Chris took a glass bowl filled with water from a high shelf.
A single succulent plant floated on the surface, its translucent green leaves spiking outwards like a bouquet of quartz.
Chris switched off the lights, and the room was plunged into humid darkness—except for a soft glow emanating from her cupped hands. The small, floating plant was luminous with blue-green light, throwing shimmering ripples across the basement walls.
“It doesn’t even have a name yet,” said Chris, gazing at it with wonder. “It’s the only plant we’ve found in which the luciferin substrate gene occurs naturally. All the bioluminescent plants now known are transgenic, and it’s incredibly energy intensive. This plant not only generates the luciferase enzyme, but its metabolism can handle it.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Chris paused, as though about to jump off a cliff, possibly taking Luke with her.
“I’m looking for a rare plant, and I need your help,” said Chris.
“I’m not a biologist. Or a cartographer. Or a philanthropist. Or a mercen—”
“It’s in Eden.”
There was an exceedingly uncomfortable silence. Luke switched on the light.
“All these things, they exist,” Chris waved her arms at the plants, and some waved back. “People dispute their existence, but they’re real. Unfortunately, you can’t just run to the news and say ‘Look at this!’ unless it’s a cucumber shaped like the nativity scene. Unless you have several research papers full of testable hypotheses and peer-reviewed studies, no
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