CHAPTER TWO: ADJUSTMENTS MUST BE MADE
PART ONE…Respect Your Elders…
The usual low hum filled the plant compound as ten freshly calloused fingers tapped away at a keyboard. Once all plant factors had reached optimum levels, actions and numbers were penciled into a softbound notebook, under the general heading, 'Mihr'. The task completed, Knives' footsteps clanged against the treacherous metal stairs and plodded to the next plant platform.
Here he stood, before the thankless plant bulb, and tapped his pencil against the tip of his nose. 'Liwet,' he decided, labeling a new section in the notebook as such before turning to this keyboard and repeating his meticulous process.
This routine, which took over thirty of the most intelligent humans days to complete before, he finished within the hour.
His set quota of twenty plants adjusted per day now fulfilled, Knives began to lay his travel bedding upon the catwalk between all twelve of these plants. Here, he settled comfortably upon his blankets and closed his eyes. This was how he lived – traveling to serve the plants and meditating to them in hopes of a reply piercing the utter silence.
In a manner that cannot be taught, he jumped from thought pattern to thought pattern of science concepts, literary themes, and musical compositions. Knives had attempted so many avenues to entertain or inform the plant angels, hoping to spot an eye or finger or any other recognizable humanoid part. He was full of such determination, drawing from every book he had read, and every concept he had grasped. But this was not the kind of thing the plant angels responded to.
Knives opened his eyes and stared at his hazy reflection in the high metal ceiling. "So you aren't interested in me today?" he asked them, voice faint and weak. It had been days since he'd last spoken aloud, and he noticed that lack of use was weakening his vocal cords. "Haven't you realized who I am?" He focused into his own eyes, and then stared himself from end to end. "Is it because I look like one of the humans? Because I'm not, you realize. I'm perfect, like you, but unlike them."
The lack of response cracked his ego. "I'm your nephew, or your son or brother, in human terms," he explained, choosing simple speech over thinking in order to exercise his voice. "You have two other sentient siblings, but they are gone now. I am Knives. They are Vash and Vanessa. You had no names, but I have given you each a name; prestigious names worthy of your superior race. Our superior race. Because I know you are alive. It's safe to show yourselves to me – I will not use you as the humans did." He cleared his throat, awaiting his voice's return to the previous, deep tone. "Together, we must discover our purposes. You may know yours, which is why I am attempting to converse with you. Speaking through my mouth is how I have been taught to communicate, primitive though it may be. Telepathy seems to be stunted at the moment. That, or you are choosing not to respond."
A harsh scream announced itself suddenly. After a pause, two more loud yells were released. "Silly, isn't it?" Knives asked, eyes darting over the ceiling reflections. "Can you not do that, or do you prefer not to? Would you like to experience things as I do? What about me interests you; or are avoiding hibernation because of something besides interest? Why do I keep asking questions you refuse to answer? Am I insane?"
He sighed and smiled. "You are my brethren. I love you all regardless of this ill treatment. But I need your help to create a plot of land I may sustain myself upon. I'm quickly running out of the food the humans left behind. While I don't wish to force anyone into production, your levels will waver out of healthy ranges without me, so I find it reasonable to select a few of you to serve as geoplants. Of all the plants on the planet, I will pick three random plants from my records and visit them. Upon each visit, I will allow any of you to descend and indicate your opinions. If you've been selected and deny the position, merely descend and transmit your feelings in whatever way I will understand; if you've not been chosen but want to be, please do the same. Until then, I'll gather materials to divert production circuits to the area I've chosen as a home."
Knives' reflection in the ceiling began to fade as second sunset commenced outside. In the slight glow of the calm plants he could barely see his form.
His stomach growled, cuing him to reach into his pack for a meal bar. Burrowing deep, his fingers hit a book, surprising him. Once the book was removed, Knives squinted in the dim light to read the title. 'Poetry Collection of Jonathon Swift.' This was where Vanessa said she'd gotten her name. 'The humans reject what they cannot perceive as perfection,' he thought to himself. 'She was such a perfect nymph, wasn't she.' He thought of opening the old book, but the time of day did not permit.
Before he could place the book within his pack once more, the glow became brighter, and the plant bank was lit as though with daylight.
"No," Knives replied. "I don't need to read it. I'm tired," he stated, curling up into his blankets for the night. He covered his face from the light, but it became more and more intense. "I want to sleep!" he screamed, to no avail.
Throwing the blankets off, he sat up and held his eyes shut. "You're going to blind me!" he yelled angrily.
A pause held him for too long, and he reached for the book again. This action led to the dimming of the lights, now at a comfortable level.
Knives blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted and he began to silently read the opening lines of "Cadenus and Vanessa." As he continued, his mind filled with memories of her, and he shut his eyes stubbornly. "I don't want this. It hurts me worse than death," he murmured bitterly.
Again, the blinding light flashed, warning him to continue reading.
He gritted his teeth and obeyed, picking up where he'd left off. His heart wrenched from the memories, but he became faintly aware of an odd warmth surrounding him. Once the poem had been reviewed, the light became low and somber, allowing him to slip into sleep without further incident.