"You may have noticed that some of the plants are no longer performing near their former peak levels. For many of them, their best output has dropped to roughly half of what their production levels were a few decades ago.

"Those plants are dead.

"The bulb acts as a life support system, keeping the body alive. The mind, however, has fled the flesh shell, and it's the mind that regulates the fusion process. It's the way we were designed. The problem is plants weren't designed for such prolonged usage. It's been over 150 years since the fall, and these ladies have been working nearly non-stop since that time. While they were powering the ships, the ratio of ships to bulbs was high enough that they could be rotated out of active service periodically, a vacation, so to speak. Even with those regular breaks near the beginning of their lifespan, they have been working and working hard for the past two hundred years. There are a few left who were even powering the ships during construction; they've been in constant service for up to 275 years. You have no idea how long of a time that truly is, to be working and working and working, without a rest, without a day off, without anything to break the monotony of your days."

"The bulbs are a paradise to you plants. They were designed that way," interrupted her boss

Anne shrugged. "So I've been told. The problem is that they still get tired. When was the last time you had a chance to take a bulb offline for anything less than emergency maintenance? You want to believe that we're just a part of a machine, a biomechanism, I think Mark said. But we aren't. We're human, we get tired, we die."

"You aren't human," was his quick response. "You were modeled after the human genome, but there is nothing human about you."

She smiled at him. "Tell that to Alex."

"To who?"

"Alex. Vash and Meryl's son."

"Impossible."

"Improbable, I'll give you that. But not impossible. It's happened, therefore impossibility is no longer a viable option.

"Anyway, back to why I'm working here. The truth is, I would love to see the day when plants are no longer used as a source of energy, but I recognize that my first goal cannot be emancipation. Too many people rely upon the power supplied from the plants; to take that away would sentence millions to death, and that isn't what I'm striving for. No, my short term goal is to at least create a surplus of power that will allow for the reestablishment of the plant rotation system. Preferably before any other plants decide that enough is enough and turn their brains off."

"You're crazy to think that we would do that. You are all soulless automatons; that you are all mindless wouldn't bother me."

She arched an eyebrow. "Crazy? It's the only sensible course of action. There are two plants here in December that were on the verge of shutting themselves off before I started working here. I have managed to baby them this far with the promise of a rest, and their own consciences have helped me prod them along. Otherwise you would be suffering an even greater power crisis than you are now."

"Conscience?" he asked incredulous.

"Believe what you like, not one plant, with perhaps the exception of Knives," she said with a brief frown, "wants to hurt anyone. Vash himself, about thirty years ago chided a plant to keep working when she just wanted to self-destruct by reminding her that other people depended on her. We feel, all of us feel that weight of responsibility, know that there are many lives depending on us. The problem you have is that we are all just so very tired."

"Tired." He snorted. "You would have me believe that you are working here just so the plants can all take a little nap."

"They need a bit more time off than just a nap, but basically, yes."

"Ludicrous."

"No, sir. I can point out to you the bulbs that house a dead plant. If you just look at their records, you will note the decreased production volume of each one, and the corresponding rise in errors and failures. You know as well as I do that there are some bulbs that just seem to have many more problems than the norm. A couple of them, like number fourteen, have problems on nearly a daily basis.

"You call us a biomechanical component to your machine, but there is a reason that we were designed to be alive, to be intelligent, to be as freakishly strong and capable as we are. It is necessary to control the output of the fusion generation. When you take the mind that monitors all of the minutia that goes on during the process and try to replace it with computer monitors, you are bound to come up short, to have as many problems as you are experiencing.

"In short, you need this as much as we do."

He looked at her for a moment, waiting for her to continue. When she stayed silent, he asked, "But why here? Why, if you knew that we were here, that we want you dead, why work here?"

"Because running and hiding from a bunch of racist bastards like yourselves doesn't solve things. I can't just sit off in an ivory tower somewhere, come up with an idea that will save the world, and then expect you to believe me. But you know me, people here know me, and you know what I eat for lunch and wear to work, and that I can't seem to ever make it here on time and that too much cheese gives me gas and that I like to sing even though I suck.

"By being here, I'm a person. Not a thing. Say what you like, believe what you will, but you know me." She scratched her jaw. "That's my first step on my second master plan."

His eyes narrowed. "Master plan?"

She nodded. "Master plan one, get plants out of bulbs. Master plan two, destroy racism. I thought I would start small. After I get these two done, things get tougher. Master plan three, which I haven't started yet, is to learn how to paint."

"You're mocking me."

"Maybe just a little."