by Eliza Taye
A short trip down the same road led them to the Cultivating Grounds. The grounds consisted of nothing but a large white dome covering the entire area. A comparatively small door sat in the exact center of the grounds, with a short pathway from the road to the door paved with white marble.
Always hearing of the Cultivating Grounds being the sole place where the entire city obtained their food, Opal had been curious to see the place for herself. The milky white color of the dome wasn’t exactly what she had been expecting. She’d hoped to be able to see something within the dome from the outside, but perhaps there was a reason for keeping the dome non-transparent.
Without a word, Opal, Garrett, and the other students followed Miss Harrigan out of the academy transporter, down the short path, and through the doors of the domed structure. Inside the outer walls were actually transparent, although from the outside no one could see in. Encircling the entire circumference of the domed roof were various lights illuminating the structure. No walls separated the interior. Instead, everything was open with only pathways demarcating the different areas.
“Welcome to the Cultivating Grounds, Choosing Class,” greeted a man with a youthful face and very light gray eyes that starkly contrasted with his ebony hair. “If you follow me, I’ll give you the tour of the area.”
“Opal,” whispered Garrett. When she didn’t respond, he repeated more urgently, “Opal.”
“Huh?” Opal’s eyes drifted around the building until they met her friend’s.
“Stop being so starry-eyed. We need to follow the rest of the group.”
Snapping out of her astonishment, Opal looked straight ahead to see the group growing farther and farther away from her and Garrett. They hurried to catch up to the group, which the guide was already speaking to at a mile a minute.
“I’m sure most of you aren’t considering a lifetime career as a cultivator, but let me tell you, I didn’t either until I took this occupation tour during my days in the Choosing Class,” explained the guide as he grinned.
Without raising their hand, someone blurted out. “What’s your name? I didn’t catch it earlier. And when were you in the Choosing Class?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was so excited to be chosen to do the occupation tour today that I must have forgotten my manners. My name is Connor and I graduated from my Choosing Class five years ago.”
“You’re only 22?” burst someone else from the group.
“Yep, and I love my job.” Gesturing to the entire dome with his arms outstretched, Connor added, “Here, we’re responsible for all the food in the entire city and most of this province. Every plant-based morsel of food you’ve ever eaten throughout your entire lives was grown here.” Connor’s eyes shined as he added the last bit.
Feeling awkward, Garrett slowly raised his hand.
Seeing it immediately, Connor pointed to him and anxiously waited for his question.
“Where is the bathroom?”
Opal closed her eyes and sucked in a breath. She loved her best friend, but sometimes, he really drove her mad. Here they were in probably the most important place in their entire city other than City Hall itself, and he asked where the bathroom was. Not an intellectual question, but a commonplace question.
The corners of Connor’s mouth quivered a bit, but swiftly returned to their U-shaped grin as he responded, “At the corner of each patch there is a shed-like hut. They house the bathrooms.”
“Thank you,” muttered Garrett as he sheepishly walked away.
Feeling responsible for her friend’s stupid question even though it wasn’t her fault, Opal asked an intelligent one, “How do you keep the plants here growing sustainably every year with a constant, dependable harvest?”
“That is a great question and it has a very simple answer.” Pointing to the ceiling, Connor answered, “It’s this dome.”
Puzzled, Opal stared into the sky at the expansive dome.
“Let me explain further. The dome protects the plants from environmental elements, as well as maintaining a stable atmosphere conducive to the plant’s best growth. The doorway you passed through to get inside has an invisible barrier that eliminates any and all types of pests from making their way into the building. The soil used here is the best soil in the world for growing crops. Extra nutrients are injected into the soil using a secret compound that corrects for any deficiencies lost due to repeated use. Each plant is carefully cross-bred for the best possible yield by our cultivators here.”
“Are there a lot of people that work here?” wondered a tall, very thin boy.
“Yes, but we could always use additional workers. As our population grows, we must support the increase in food demand.”
“What about expanding? If the population continues to grow, doesn’t that mean you’ll need to continually increase the number of plants to keep up with the demand?” asked yet another student, a short girl this time.
Connor, elated at all the good questions, fired off answer after answer. As he responded to every inquiry, he led the students throughout the entire facility, using the crops to help explain as he went.
Although she knew she wanted to be a lawyer, Opal couldn’t help being fascinated by how their food was grown and maintained. Dazed, she walked through the facility gazing at what all the plants that ended up on her dinner plate appeared as in their growing state. She was so distracted by the wonders of the Cultivating Grounds that she forgot that Garrett should have returned to the group a while ago.
Chapter 3
Garrett leaned forward to peer around the corner of the bathroom shed. The class had already started walking farther and farther away down the rows of plants. Leaning backward to glance the other way, he saw the coast was clear and sprinted out from behind the shed. Walking briskly, he hurried to the edge of the large domed building. At the edges were the fruit-bearing trees. Each one was tall and wide enough to allow him to hide as he dashed from one to the other.
The more he thought about his Life Plan and the intense emphasis the entire society placed upon them, the more he began to question the system. How did Life Plans start? How was it that every approved Life Plan went exactly as designed without fail? Instead of stressing over-designing the perfect Life Plan, Garrett decided he’d rather discover how they worked.
There was something oddly interesting about the cultivating dome. How was it possible for plants to grow so perfectly that they never failed to yield a good crop? There had to be some sort of clue, and he was certain it lay somewhere within the dome. From where he stood near the entrance, he spotted a door at the rear of the dome. It appeared to be a mile away, but he didn’t care. Based on how passionate the tour guide was, the tour wouldn’t be ending anytime soon. He’d have plenty of time.
Before leaping behind the next tree, Garrett checked the surroundings for any of the white-uniformed cultivators and scientists that ran the place. With his navy blue top and brown pants, he plainly stood out from them. In an instant, they’d recognize that he didn’t belong.
It seemed like forever, but he finally made it to the door without being spotted. Featureless and made entirely of white, the domed ceiling extended down without an obvious seam to reveal where the door may open. Running his hands over the silky-smooth surface, Garrett failed to find a way inside.
Footsteps echoed behind him. Garrett ducked and found a place to hide behind the bathroom shed closest to the door. Inching to the corner of the shed, Garrett flattened his body against the sturdy wall and peered out from his peripheral vision. A man dressed in white from top to bottom with a white cap covering most of his blond hair placed his palm flat against the wall. A tiny beep sounded, and a portion of the wall slid away to allow him inside. Without pause, the man walked in, but the door didn’t immediately close.
Seeing his chance, Garrett sprinted towards the door just when a puff sounded, and the door began to close. A foot from closing, Garrett turned sideways and scooted inside with barely an inch to spare.
Re
leasing the breath he was holding, he thanked his lucky stars for his lanky frame and turned around to examine his surroundings. Rounded walls indicated that he was in a tunnel of some sort. Screens covered the curved walls from about three feet from the ground to a foot from the domed ceiling. On each screen was a different species of plant. Garrett noticed a number at the bottom right corner of each screen. Every few seconds the image rotated, but it was always the same species.
Turning from the screens, he followed the short tunnel, the door at the end automatically opening as he drew near. Frightened for a moment of being discovered before he could uncover anything, Garrett flattened himself against the wall of screens. Noticing that there was no one else in the next room, he stepped down the stairs and entered it.
Surrounding him on all sides were bookshelves rising from floor to ceiling. Each shelf was filled to the brim with thick volume after volume. Picking one at random, he read the title, “Branian Plant Species: Their Care and Uses.” Shrugging, he returned the book to the shelf where he’d found it.
After walking around the room for a while, he found yet another door hidden in the back. This door had a handle, but like the entire inside and outside structure, it too, was pure white. Standing behind the door, Garrett opened it a crack and peered inside. He observed several people walking around carrying various seedlings and examining videos of different plants that appeared to be sick. Everyone inside was busy and hard at work at whatever they were doing.
Opening the door a little wider, Garrett snuck inside to find himself crouching on a staircase in full view of everyone working down below. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, but he knew something suspicious had to be going on. Visually scanning the entire area, there wasn’t much he could glean from what he could see on the surface.
Just as he considered checking somewhere else, Garrett noticed a man entering numbers into the large database in the center of the room. Gradually, Garrett began to make his way down the stairs.
“What are you doing here?” asked a gruff voice, as a bulky hand firmly turned Garrett around.
Garrett found himself staring into the crystal blue eyes of a tall, middle-aged man. Swallowing hard, Garrett remained silent.
“Are you one of the students from the Choosing Class touring the place?”
Garrett still refused to speak. The man’s stern gaze and bald head were intimidating. The gray one-piece suit he wore designated him as a security guard. Although, if he hadn’t been wearing his uniform, Garrett could have easily guessed at his job by the bulging muscles threatening to rip the stitches of his uniform.
“Alright, if you’re going to be non-compliant, I’ll just have to bring you along with me.” The man reached down to grab Garrett by the collar of his shirt and tugged him upright.
With his decision to remain quiet, Garrett was forcibly dragged through the reference room, the tunnel, and outside of the restricted room altogether. To his dismay, the man continued to escort him all the way to the entrance of the building to where the rest of his class was already gathered.
Luckily, the man just threw him out and didn’t say anything to Miss Harrigan. She was looking in the other direction, so Garrett quickly joined the group, and searched for Opal.
She found him first, grabbing his arm and jerking him around to face her. “Garrett, where were you? It doesn’t take that long to go to the bathroom.”
Garrett shrugged off the inquiry. “I had an upset stomach.”
Tilting her head to the side and pursing her lips, Opal fixated her green eyes on her friend’s brown ones.
Garrett knew that look all too well. “What?”
“I know you’re lying. Tell me the truth.”
“All right, class. We’ll be returning to the academy now. The academy transporter will be arriving soon to pick us up, so please be ready.” Miss Harrigan raised her arms and waved them to get everyone’s attention as she spoke.
Leaning over to whisper in Opal’s ear, Garrett said, “I’ll tell you later.”
Opal turned to him and narrowed her eyes. Unable to read his expressionless face, she ceased trying as the soft purr of the transporter reached her ears. For now, she’d let him get away with it, but she’d obtain her answers later whether he liked it or not.
Opal slid her interwave into her pocket and reached for the door handle to the outside of her house. “Mom, I’m going to Garrett’s to work on the occupational tours report with him. I’ll probably be gone a while, so I’ll eat dinner over there.”
“Okay, honey. I’ll see you later,” her mom responded from upstairs.
Opening the door, Opal walked out and closed it behind her. The streetlamps remained bright as always, illuminating the city in a white glow. Glancing toward the two moons hanging low in the sky as they began their ascent to the apex of the cityscape, Opal took in a deep breath and exhaled.
Something was definitely going on with Garrett. Everything was normal until they arrived at the Cultivating Grounds, then he began acting funny. Opal knew he had to be feeling some sort of emotion about the upcoming Submission Day. Whether it was fear, annoyance, or simply indifference, she didn’t know, but his aberrant behavior concerned her.
Quickening her pace, she hurried down the remaining two blocks of houses to Garrett’s home. Each block sported different styles of homes, but within each block, the houses had the same style, only different colors. Garrett’s house was a two-story like Opal’s, but the entire house was a dark shade of green with a front porch on it that Opal’s lacked.
Arriving in front of the green house, Opal took the short walkway framed on either side by flowers and strode to the front door. With a knock, she announced her presence and didn’t have to wait long for a reply.
“Opal, my dear, it’s so nice to see you!” Garrett’s mom, Raya, reached out and pulled Opal into a tight hug, kissing her cheek. “How are you doing? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Sorry, I’ve been really busy finalizing my Life Plan.”
Mrs. Gibbons’ face outshined the two rising moons outside. “How nice; I just wish I could get Garrett to do the same. I’ve been hounding him for months and he just continues to brush it off. Can you try to convince him to do it?”
Opal sighed; she’d been trying for longer than Mrs. Gibbons to convince him to start writing his Life Plan. “I’ll try, Mrs. Gibbons. He hasn’t been listening to me much either.”
“Ah, that boy.” Mrs. Gibbons cupped her hand against her forehead, the red hanging sleeves of her red blouse nearly smacking Opal in the face as she swept her arm out. “Well, come on inside. He’s up in his room.”
With a small smile, Opal entered the family room of the house. She’d always liked Garrett’s house. His parents decorated it with bright, energetic colors. Everywhere one looked there was a bright red, orange, green, or yellow somewhere in the house—except for Garrett’s room. Proceeding through the living room to the wall separating it from the kitchen, Opal ascended the staircase into the narrow, bright green hallway leading to the four bedrooms. Garrett’s room was the first one on the right. Noticing that his door was slightly cracked, Opal knocked soundly, causing the door to swing open a bit.
“Come in,” called out Garrett.
Opening the door, Opal saw Garrett lying on his bed with a book spread open atop his pillow. He’d already changed out of his academy clothes into blue shorts and a dull green sleeveless shirt. “Hey, Garrett.”
Looking up from the book, Garrett’s mouth dropped for a second as he closed the book and sat up. “Hey, Opal. I thought you were my mom. I didn’t realize you were coming over.”
Opal closed the door and walked the few steps to the comfortable gray mushroom chair in Garrett’s room. Sitting down and crossing her legs, Opal got straight to the point. “How could you not, Garrett? I told you I wanted to know what happened today. Half the day you were acting weird. Not to mention you disappeared for most of the field trip to the Cultivating Grounds. What is going
on?”
Garrett stood and paced between his desk and bed. “Nothing really, Opal.”
“Garrett.”
“Okay, fine.” Garrett threw his arms into the air in defeat. “Don’t you think this is odd?”
“What do you mean?” Opal’s eyebrows creased into waves of confusion.
“While we were at the Cultivation Dome today, I began to wonder how it is that they grow everything so well. Like, how is it that the crops rarely fail? Don’t you think that’s suspicious?”
“Suspicious?” Opal stared at him.
“Yes, suspicious…like it doesn’t make sense. Think about it, how can you grow that immense number of plants with hardly any failing?”
“Garrett, if you’d paid attention instead of sneaking off to do whatever it was you did, you would have learned that the cultivation scientists have spent decades perfecting growing conditions for the plants inside the dome. They also monitor each plant closely for any signs of illness. Every plant has a camera trained on it so it can be watched on a consistent basis.”
Pacing again, Garrett considered Opal’s words. It made perfect sense. The monitors he’d seen and all the personnel in the back room working with different plants. Perhaps he was blowing things out of proportion.
Shaking off his previous thought, he countered, “Okay, what about how our society works. Don’t you ever wonder how it all works so perfectly? How creating a Life Plan allows us to plan out our lives to give us everything we could ever want?”
Speechless, Opal allowed her mouth to hang agape.
“Haven’t you?” Garrett awaited a response with his arms outstretched and palms up.
“Not really, Garrett. I just know that it does work. It always has. Plus, it doesn’t give you everything that you could ever want. You aren’t permitted to detail every single thing. There are still surprises to be had in life.”
“I know, but who decides and controls how they’re implemented? We submit our Plans to City Hall and on Submission Day we are approved or denied. Then the following day—Declaration Day—we’re told if it was approved or not in front of the entire city. But who does the approving and denying? Why is the year we turn seventeen our deadline? Why not twenty? Or thirty? Or ten?”
