Botanicaust

by Linsey, Tam

  Arnica once again leaned back in her chair. “Have you learned anything about where he came from?”

  “He speaks a different dialect than I’ve encountered. Maybe a pre-Botanicaust language. But he’s learning quickly. Given more time, he’ll fit into the Protectorate.”

  “These drawings indicate a sizable community. People who are still possibly living a primitive life as farmers. The Conversion Department may be interested in making contact with them. I’m going to issue a temporary holding order on the euthanization. Find out all you can about his tribe.”

  Tula nodded furiously. More converts like Levi would be a wonderful addition to the Protectorate.

  The Councilwoman held up a palm. “You’ll have to convince Vitus to put in for a CFTR waiver and therapy request. I’ll do what I can. Then the Committee will decide how to proceed. Let’s say I give you … two weeks?” Arnica tapped some information into her data screen.

  “Thank you, Councilwoman. I’ll work non-stop.” Tula gathered the gamma pad and notebook. The way things were going with Levi, two weeks should be enough time to get Verification of Consent. The real problem would be gaining approval for the genetic waiver from Vitus.

  She wondered if her supervisor might like some more jewelry.

  Bruises covered Levi’s knees from the cement floor. His prayers remained unanswered, and he battled despair. Samuel’s admonitions circled his mind like vultures over a fresh kill. Was his desire to survive another selfish excuse to do as he wished? He should’ve refused the food. Water even. If he had, he’d be reunited with God, right now.

  But he wasn’t ready to die. Something inside him yearned to live.

  “Forgive me, Lord, for my impure thoughts. For my sinful desire for an abomination.” Levi’s heart wrenched. Tula seemed less and less like an abomination every day. Was this the devil’s work, pulling him closer to irreconcilable sin? Again an image of Tula came to his mind, not her curves, but the irregular pink patch on her arm.

  He gasped with enlightenment. “She was once human. A Child of God. Is her sin forgivable?”

  She was Blattvolk, every inch of her skin marked — except the right arm. Could someone be only partially Marked? Could a soul like that find salvation?

  Repressing a groan, he rose from his position on the floor. “No.” Evangelizing her wasn’t an option. The idea was against everything he’d been taught. “These people are damned. They’ve turned their backs on God.”

  Did Tula know about God? He couldn’t even talk to her. The concept of God was too big to summarize in a few days. Maybe you will be here more than a few days.

  “I have to save Josef!” The cry echoed off the cement ceiling, as if trapped in this room along with him.

  These people altered the very foundation of God’s creation. People like them had brought the Botanicaust upon the world like the people in Noah’s time had brought the flood.

  Would God offer them salvation now?

  I don’t have time, God.

  And yet, all he had right now was time.

  At his desk, Vitus scrolled through the extension order and snarled. That convert weed had gone over his head. And Councilwoman Arnica might as well be a convert herself, always bending the rules to bring more weeds into the Protectorate. As the Haldanians expanded their boundaries, she’d insisted they negotiate new trade agreements with those repulsive Fosselites up north. Almost as disgusting as bringing cannibals into society.

  He ran a hand down the smooth green skin on one arm. He’d made the most of the Fosselite deal.

  Dr. Macoby was probably fawning and flattering that damn prisoner into signing the Verification, right now. Her use of those agave candies bordered on illegal, but if he took her down based on that, he’d have to take down the candy maker, and too many Council members enjoyed the illicit treats. The sweets were well enough for children, but adults were not so easily swayed, and he was surprised she hadn’t used sex as a lure yet.

  If only. Then he’d have an ethics case against her.

  He rolled the beads of his necklace through his fingers. What had she been doing with the prisoner? Setting down the gamma pad, he crept out of his office toward the monitor room. Multiple screens showed empty cages, but the one he was after recorded Dr. Macoby with the prisoner, sitting too close to him on the bed. She shouldn’t be inside the cell without a guard nearby. But that wasn’t enough to cut her down for good.

  He snarled at the screen. She was always wriggling through loopholes. What he needed was probably on these monitor disks or her gamma pad. He punched in the code to send the recordings to his gamma pad. If not with the man in the prison, then with one of the children she’d recently converted. Rumor was that boy had been causing trouble. Something was bound to go wrong.

  And he’d be there to make sure the rules were followed.

  The drawings on the gamma pad were no longer inspired, and Tula sighed in exasperation. She wondered who was trying to convert whom. Levi was fixated on his primitive belief in God, unable to see that God hadn’t saved him. Conversion was the only way to make the world safe. Maybe this was why adults were so difficult to change over.

  “The Protectorate saved me.” Taking the gamma pad from him, she accessed a case file she hadn’t looked at since obtaining her doctorate. Inside were photos of herself after conversion, as well as detailed notes by Dr. Werne. “Me.” She pointed to the girl in the photo, then to herself.

  Levi nodded. “Not you make.” He shook his head, obviously frustrated with his lack of words.

  She pointed to the picture again. “Cannibals,” she said. “Eat Tula.” Keep the concept simple.

  “Not cannibal.” He tapped his chest, asserting his separation from the cannibals for the hundredth time.

  “I know you’re not a cannibal.” Tula grimaced. “I wasn’t, either.” She swallowed rising nausea. Not for long. Searching the database, she found a photo of a duster, a goggled Burn Op grinning behind a flame gun. “Saved me. Saved you.”

  “Gefangen.” He nodded, his lips curled in disgust.

  What is gefangen? “Safe,” she put a hand to her brow and sighed with mock relief. “No cannibals. Safe.”

  Levi heaved a breath and closed his eyes in apparent frustration.

  After three days, she’d made no progress in either converting or obtaining information from Levi. She tapped the gamma pad and brought up a drawing from his paper notebook. “Levi.” She waited until his eyes opened, ready for the hardness that came into him every time she showed him these pictures. Pointing to the baby, she said, “Not safe.” Flipping through each of the pictures of people, she repeated the phrase.

  When she turned to one of the many of the woman - Sarah, he’d called her - he put his big palm flat over the screen. “Sie ist mit Gott.”

  Again with God. “She’s with God. Okay. Not safe.” She scrolled back to the drawing of a child and made a gathering motion with her arms. “Make safe.” Again she repeated it with the other pictures, then rubbed her left arm. “Make like me. Safe.”

  His head jerked up, eyes full of understanding for the first time. Trembling, he rose from the bed, and she was reminded how big he was. Her heart skipped a beat and she shrank away. But he didn’t mean her harm. He backed to the cell bars, holding both palms up as if to ward her off. “No.”

  “Levi, listen. No hungry. No cold. No cannibals. Safe. Here. Safe. They can be like me. You can be like me.”

  “No.” He clutched the bars behind him, back pressed tight to the metal.

  “Don’t be afraid.”

  He covered his ears with his hands and closed his eyes, falling to his knees on the cold, hard floor. “Vater Unser, im Himmel, geheligt werde Dein Name…”

  The words thrummed along her spine like the bass in a song, tugging deep in her gut. What was he chanting? A past she didn’t want to remember. Now it was her turn to back toward the cell door. Fumbling for the palm pad and escape, she fled up the stairs, hardly able to breathe. />
  Until this moment, Levi had thought only himself in danger from the Blattvolk. When they didn’t immediately alter him, he’d become complacent, unaware of their real intent. Of course they didn’t want just him. They wanted all his people. The Blattvolk wanted to pervert the world.

  They were after Josef. And Samuel, and Beth…

  Thoughts of offering salvation left his mind. The time for dreaming was over. When he’d fallen to his knees reciting the Lord’s Prayer, the abomination had fled, as if burned by the Word of God. These people truly were damned if the prayer affected them so.

  He had to act. But what could he do? He could go back to starving himself. Could he manage to die before they forced the Mark of the Beast upon him? Once they changed him, would his mind alter, as well? Would he then betray his people? He couldn’t let that happen.

  Would his death save the Holdout? The Blattvolk knew about his home. With their flying machines, did they even need Levi to lead them there? They’d find the village eventually.

  The cannibal dogs would be useless in the face of the flamethrowers. The tunnels his people hid inside during a fence breach would not conceal them from the Blattvolk for long. The technology available to the abominations would lead them straight to the secret entrances.

  No, his death would not stop the Blattvolk. He had to escape and warn the Brethren. They had to find a better way to hide when the Blattvolk came.

  As he had many times, Levi examined the door and lock of his cell. Tula came and went with the swipe of her hand on a flat pad near the lock. His own hand merely turned the screen red. The lock had no manual keyhole as far as he could tell.

  The cage bars were set into the cement floor and ceiling. The cot, toilet, and small sink were solidly attached, as well. The flaccid gamma pad sheet and the stubby plastic pencil were useless. All he had was the single blanket he kept wrapped around his waist. Nothing to help him escape.

  But maybe he could bluff his way. Awnia’s violence had been poorly executed, with her separated from her captors by bars. Tula had been entering the cell. If the Blattvolk thought he might harm her, then perhaps she would open the door for him.

  But what if she fought back?

  Levi paced the bars. Jesus taught to turn the other cheek, and the Brethren took that seriously, not even fighting when the cannibals found a way through the fence. God would save them, or it was His will they join Him in Heaven.

  Flexing his hands, he reminded himself that these were Blattvolk. Not real people. Jesus’s words did not apply to them. It couldn’t. In this case, he might have to use force, like rounding up livestock. Just enough to convince the Blattvolk he was serious. His people’s lives were at stake. More than that — their souls would be threatened with damnation if the Blattvolk found them. God would forgive him a little force.

  He sat on the bed, telling himself how easy it would be to overpower Tula. She was tiny. She didn’t carry any weapons. But how could he keep her from screaming? Maybe his blanket could be useful.

  He’d be careful not to hurt her. And he must avoid looking at the pink patch of humanity on her arm.

  Tula leaned against the outside of her apartment, soaking up the afternoon sun reflecting off all the mirrored privacy screens. She dug in her pocket for the last of the candy. Her tongue had sugar burn from the previous two, but the sensation comforted her.

  Over and over, her mind played the last few moments with Levi. The prayer on his lips had opened a chasm of coalescing memories and made her nauseous. She tried not to think about the words and contemplated his look of absolute revulsion when he realized she was inviting him to convert. How could he not see the gift she was offering him? She thought they had been building a decent relationship — fostering trust and respect. But all along he’d been horrified. Of this place. Of conversion.

  She traced the edge of her scar as the sunlight tingled across the rest of her skin. How had she felt when the Haldanians invited her to convert? She could barely remember. All she knew was she’d have done anything to avoid eating any more people.

  Allowing her legs to collapse into a squat, she slumped against the wall, head spinning with thoughts and increasing UV-induced alkaloids. A familiar whistling drew her head up as Mo rounded the corner.

  “Hey, baby! What’re you doing home?” He offered her a hand to help her stand.

  “You’re home early.”

  “Duster problems. I brought us a treat.” He held up a blue baggie.

  She took it and peeked inside. Four longhorned beetles, each as large as her thumb, crawled over each other. They were a rare delicacy. Levi’s people must survive eating like this all the time.

  “Found them in a stand of tamarisk submerged by the river. There were more, but once Pib found out I had them, I had to share.” He put an arm around her shoulder and guided her into the house. Affected by the sunlight-produced chemicals, she swayed a little. “Whoa. How long you been out here? Usually you’re the one holding me up.”

  “Things went badly today at the lab.”

  He shut the door to the apartment before taking her hands to rub her fingers, his golden eyes full of sympathy she’d seen many times. “They finally take him?”

  Tula knit her brows. “No!” She pulled her hands away and walked to the sofa. She didn’t want to think about it. “I’ll find a way to make him want to convert.”

  “He said no?” Mo raised his brows.

  Burying her face in her hands, she breathed through the welling of grief rising from deep in her chest.

  “Baby, you knew converting an adult was a long shot. They’re too set in their ways.”

  “Levi’s not a cannibal!” She glared at him. “People in the Reaches can survive without eating each other.”

  “Yeah, like those Fosselite weirdos. I know.” He flopped onto the sofa next to her and swung his legs up across her lap.

  The Fosselites had survived the Botanicaust. Literally. Four hundred years ago, they’d found the secret to immortality. They would not share the formula, but they did barter enzymes for raw materials. One of the enzymes, telomerase, had revolutionized conversion by aiding the cells in reconditioning themselves during plasmid injection. Without the Fosselites, the Protectorate would still be no more than a double handful of communal nuvoplast houses. With the influx of converts, the Protectorate had expanded into new mining territories, acquired more items for trade, and converted even more outsiders.

  Tula sighed. “He’s not a Fosselite, either. Less technologically advanced. Something about him is so familiar. He’s … different. He was actually disgusted with me today, like he couldn’t bear to look at me.”

  “Whoa, baby. You got a little thing going on with that outsider?”

  “If by ‘thing’ you mean relationship, then yes. I have a relationship with all my patients. To help them convert, I have to get inside their heads. You know that.”

  “Yeah, but sounds like this guy hurt your feelings. You always get attached, but I haven’t seen you care what your patients think of you.”

  Tula pushed his legs off her lap and clomped to the refrigerator. “I do, too.” She pulled a bottle of water from inside, pausing with the open door blocking her vision of Mo. He had a point. Maybe she had lost her distance on this one. But there was more to it than hurt feelings. How could Levi be so opposed to conversion? Her green skin was a gift she’d never regretted. She had to make him see the value.

  “You aren’t objective any more. Why not assign him to another doctor?”

  “He’s scheduled to die in ten days! There’s not enough time for someone else to take over.”

  Mo shook his head. “Tula —”

  “I have to get back to the lab. There’s no time to waste.” She gulped a last swallow of water and flung the half empty container into the recycle chute. “Don’t wait up for me.”

  As she stomped out the door, Mo called, “Fine! I’m going to eat these beetles all by myself!”

  Tula reached the Lieb
ert building in spite of her unsteady gait. The euphoric high from the alkaloids didn’t give her any pleasure at the moment, just blurry vision and a tiny headache at the back of her skull. She planned to do as much research on pre-Botanicaust culture as possible and find similarities to cross-reference what she knew about Levi’s people.

  In her office, Vitus occupied her desk chair, his head bent over her gamma pad.

  “What are you doing in here?” She hoped her words were not as slurred as Mo’s sometimes were after a day on the Burn.

  “Dr. Macoby. So glad you could attend work today. I’m checking on your progress with that mongrel in Confinement. Seems he’s a bit opposed to cooperating.”

  “I’ve been making great strides overcoming the language barrier.”

  “Mmmm, yes, I see he has learned how to tell you how lovely your eyes are.”

  “Parts of the face are the first thing any convert learns. Facial expressions are the universal form of communication —”

  “Yes, yes, I know all that.” The multi-colored nuvoplast bangles at his wrist clicked together as he waved her off. “But the real question is have you found out where he comes from? That was your directive from Councilwoman Arnica, I believe?”

  “I have to gain his trust before he’ll tell me where his family is. Once he’s converted, I’m sure he’ll —”

  “I have yet to see reason to dedicate the resources to his conversion let alone CFTR therapy, Sertularia. Especially when you can’t even monitor the converts you have in your care right now.”

  The smug look on his face made Tula’s heart drop into the pit of her already churning stomach. “What do you mean?”

  “While you were out on your non-business related jaunt, the Garden paged you.”

  “Oh, no. Who?” She stepped forward and reached for the gamma pad still in Vitus’s clutches.

  He twitched the pad out of her reach. “All three of your latest converts have disappeared, it seems. One — Jobie — and the newest additions to the class. Rho and Nika?”