Chlorophyll and Gasoline Read online

  Chlorophyll and Gasoline

  By S.J. Fleming

  The characters in this book are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  ©Serena Fleming, 2018, All Rights Reserved

  Cover by lidijadraws.tumblr.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  Willow breathed in the warm, humid air of Yggdrasil and looked upon the vast labyrinth of living wood. Massive vines and tubers crossed the branches, forming natural steps and paths grown and cultivated over decades. A multitude of various plants grew in crevices and pits in the bark. Thick moss carpeted most everything around her; mushrooms poked out from sunless gaps, and orchid roots peeked out from the trunks.

  She sat upon the edge of a branch, one that was more like a flat plane of wood than anything recognizable as a tree, and stared out into the deep abyss that made up the Undergrowth. Every so often, one of Yggdrasil’s leaves would fall off and float gently down into the deep pits.

  Tulip walked over and sat down beside her, interrupting her train of thought.

  “You’re going down today?” he asked. Willow looked at him, noting that the symbiotic plants he’d nurtured took to his body very well. The vines and leaves of the balloon plant had spread from his shoulder. Down his olive-green arms and across his chest, tiny flowers sprouted from vines.

  “Yeah, soon,” she said, looking down at her own plant-merged skin. She reached into her bag and pulled out her jezail — a long, almost crossbow-like device. Unlike a crossbow, it didn’t have the arms sticking from the side. Everything was internal, a result of the living plant that Juniper had spent months cultivating.

  She tried to remember what the Treesinger had told her about its operation. A bag holding the seeds of the jezail’s progenitor hung from the back. She pulled one out, looking at the pointed end with a mix of worry and wonder. The Treesingers could do miracles, it seemed. Miracles that Willow hoped she’d never need to make use of.

  She loaded the seed into the back of the jezail, through a hole, and the plant closed around it. The Treesinger had said something about re-routed waste products propelling the seed. All Willow remembered is that it was only good for five or six shots before it needed a rest. Beyond that, she was lost in the sea of jargon both scientific and spiritual in nature.

  “What’re you going for? Radmutt?” Tulip chuckled, gesturing at the jezail. “Where’s your spear?”

  “Lost it last time,” Willow replied. “So, I went and got this. Mind helping me with the rope?” She pulled out the tightly coiled ropevine, about a hundred foot’s worth.

  She attached the ropevine to a large branch that jutted off the side of Yggdrasil’s paths. The graft was a hack-job. Good enough, though. If it took, then she’d have a decent access point from now onwards. Someone had gone and cut her other access point off, burned the vine that she had been using for the last three years. Probably teenagers with a cruel sense of humor, but she had no proof.

  Tulip applied some shellac, and the two of them sat down again, waiting for it to cure. They talked about random things, about the local squabbling in their Stamen, the sort of politicking that the higher-ups got up to and tried to drag everyone under them into. Something about how Treesinger Juniper and the Warguide Alder were in the middle of a nasty divorce. It had turned into a competition for rule of the Stamen. Rather nasty rumours had been spread about both by both. Something about a small...it didn’t really matter.

  When the shellac had cured, Willow said goodbye to Tulip and descended. Bit by bit, foot by foot, she wriggled her way down into the Undergrowth. The light became scarcer and fainter. A few times, the ropevine seemed like it was about to give. A few more hours would have been best, but she didn’t have time to wait a few hours. It could secure itself as she worked.

  At the bottom, she found herself standing on a spongy mat of mold and leaves. The air felt thick, almost like breathing syrup. She tasted the rot in the air. Muggy, musky, familiar. And yet she was not deep enough. The roots of Yggdrasil were her path now, down the roads dug ever deeper into the earth by the world-tree above.

  From her bag she pulled a small lumifruit. A quick shake and squeeze, and it lit up with intense blue-green light. It wasn’t much in the darkness, but it was good enough for her. A torch or oil lamp would have been too much weight, after all.

  The gross nibbling of schluckgrubs clued Willow into which region of the tree she was nearing now. Thick purple and yellow larvae, as long as her forearm and much fatter, crawled through the undergrowth, chewing on the roots of Yggdrasil and munching away at the white, sun-deprived leaves. Colonies of the things, crawling away from her feet just in time to avoid being crushed, were everywhere. She was close.

  Well, she should be close. Rather hard to figure out her exact location, what with being in a new place. But she did know she was in the layer of substrate where her prize awaited. So, close enough.

  There was a specific type of fungus she had been asked to gather by Woundmender Oak, thick and short clumps of ruddy toadstool. Something to make a tincture from. She had a description of its ideal clime and she had vague memories of having seen the mushrooms before, albeit dried and hidden up on a shelf. One of those things that she hadn’t really questioned or asked about. All the Woundmender had told her was that it grew in the darkest, wettest parts of the Undergrowth, and the further down she could go, the better.

  She went down a tunnel of smooth, constant, rock. It wasn’t smoothed over by the ravages of time, nor was it carved out of a cliff. This was one of the tunnels, sewers, maybe, of the people of the Polluted Times. She went inside, ducking down to fit in. Schluckgrubs crawled alongside her, along with insects and pseudo-arachnids she couldn’t name. Willow stepped carefully, partly to avoid any window-crystal left behind by the Polluted Ones, and partly to avoid touching any of the insects around her.

  The fungus she was looking for grew at the end of the tunnel. She let out a sigh of relief, sitting on one of the collapsed chunks of rock to catch her breath. The entire tunnel, the entire undergrowth even, smelled like wet leaves and mildew. But here, in the remains of a dead world, it was much more concentrated. Willow wasn’t sure if it was sweat or humidity that clung to her body, but either way, it felt gross, slick and hot.

  She shook the lumifruit idly, to try and get a little lighter out of it. That’s when she noticed the arm sticking out from the clump of fungus. It took her a few moments to fully understand what it was. Not to mention the colour, it nearly blended into the ruins around her. A sort of stained white and corroded silver, marred by centuries. Willow squinted, and reached out to touch it.

  The hand’s joints were a slightly rusted silver, corroded over the generations. When Willow touched it, the fingers twitched. She recoiled in horror, half expecting the arm to lunge out at her.

  What…what was this? She ran through the mental list of things she had seen, weird machines and strange architecture through all the years of exploring the Undergrowth. Yet…nothing about it reminded her of anything. It was certainly human. But it couldn’t have been. Any human arm would have rotted away to bone long before it was overtaken by Yggdrasil.

  A statue, Willow concluded. It had to be a statue. Maybe that twitch was just a figment of her mind. An overactive imagination and low light often paired poorly. Well, it could be interesting to look at. She grasped the arm with one hand, and started tugging lightly.

  As Willow brushed away the dirt and grime, more of the arm came loose, until almost all of it was free. Then the shoulder, the chest, neck, head of the thing broke out. Willow wiped the fungus away from the statues’ eyes, nose and mouth, uncovering the silver detailing and white ceramics - or at least what she though
t was ceramics - that made up the face.

  The eyes opened. Willow jumped back, fumbling in her pouch for the first weapon she could grab. An obsidian knife slid out of its sheath amidst the fumbling, and drew itself across her hand. She didn’t feel the blade sliding through her flesh, no more than she’d feel the edge of a leaf. Blood poured from her palm, staining the fabric.

  Silver eyes adjusted and moved, and the head moved ever-so-gently alongside them. From the mouth of the metal person, agape yet unmoving, came two words that Willow heard but didn’t understand.

  “Rebooting Unit.”

  The eyes began to glow gently, and the arm and hands moved slowly, pushing more of the fungus and growth off of their body. After a few minutes, something snagged. The roots of Yggdrasil had grown around the legs of the metal person.

  Willow scrambled and pushed herself back up against the wall of the tunnel, holding the knife in her bleeding hand. What in the Spirit’s name was this thing? A statue? Couldn’t be, couldn’t be anything even close to one. She had seen strange things, but a moving, talking statue-thing was too much! It turned its head to Willow.

  “Excuse me.” The voice was grating, like iron grinding away at wood, and offset a second or two from the movements of the person’s mouth. It was definitely a woman, though. That much she could tell through the corrupted and off-kilter voice. “It would seem I have been in offline mode for quite some time. If there is an axe or knife that you might be able to loan, I would greatly appreciate it. I must get back to my family.”

  Willow stepped back, and then thought for a moment. It... she...was a relic from the Polluted Times. The Treesinger, no, the entire Stamen would want to hear about this, see this, before deciding what to do with it. And Willow couldn’t very well leave her...it...no, her, for the Mut-beasts to find. She walked over to the metal person and put the knife down on the ground, within arms’ reach. She stepped back, not wanting to get too close. Until Willow could be certain the thing meant her no harm, there’d be a healthy distance between the two. Her hand wrapped around the jezail, just in case. Trust was a long way off, but at the very least she could help.

  “Oh!” The metal person exclaimed. “You are hurt! I am terribly sorry if I caused the injury, directly or not. Allow me to free myself, and then I shall help! I am equipped with extensive first-aid knowledge and resources to treat minor injuries!” The voice, despite the offset and strange grating quality, sounded...cheerful. Eager to help. She grabbed the knife offered to her, and went to work, cutting the roots away from her own feet and prying herself out of Yggdrasil’s grasp. After a few minutes, she was standing at her full height.

  The remains of clothing, covered with the rot and mildew of however long she had been down here, clung wetly over her body - a tight, black and blue one-piece outfit that covered the torso, legs, and half of her left arm. The other arm was completely eaten away by time.

  “Now, about that cut! Do you mind if I see it?” A cylinder rose from the shoulder blade, the end pointing at Willow. It lit up, brighter than any lumifruit, and pointed directly at Willow. Reluctantly, she offered her hand. It didn’t feel like she had much of a choice. Either let this … statue … person … thing see her cut, or turn and run and have to explain to the Woundmender why she had failed. Neither option appealed to her.

  But she wouldn’t give her hand over to be poked and prodded by some strange being. That was...no, that was simply out of the question. She stepped further back in the tunnel, ready to run. Pain shot through her hand, up her arm, burning and electric. Without thinking, she had grabbed a root with her wounded hand. The pain sent her to the ground, and the cut hurt even more as it pressed against the wet ground.

  After gathering her wits, Willow let out a sigh. There was no way she’d be able to climb back up the vine with the cut in its current state. She looked over at the metal person, who had stayed in the much the same pose as before.

  “Might I see the injury?”

  “Yeah, I guess you can,” Willow said, washing out the cut in a nearby puddle. Maybe not the most sanitary option, but better than letting the dirt stay in.

  The wrist of the metal person split open, revealing a set of needles and thin cord. One needle jabbed her and then just as quickly exited. Willow forced down the urge to run away. This didn’t feel right, this felt...weird. Weird was the best way to describe it. Like whatever she was seeing was a facsimile of what people were, some mockery of Mother Nature’s creations. But it wasn’t scary. She had seen the surreal and scary before, many times. Despite everything, Willow didn’t feel in any form of danger. Whatever this walking statue was, it didn’t want to hurt her.

  A second needle, with thread, came and sewed the wound close. It didn’t hurt, it was just a pressure against her skin, over and over and over. Maybe the other needle was coated in some concentrated form of Fleshtamer. The cut was entirely sealed, thin black thread crisscrossing itself up and down her palm.

  “I only performed a basic running suture, but it should be more than sufficient now. In addition, I detected a strange...uh…anomaly, in which you seem to have a...one-hundred percent coverage of some sort of plant matter under your skin.”

  Willow frowned. “That’s...not an anomaly.”

  “I can find no record of it in my databases.”

  Willow was at an absolute loss. No words came to mind that could help explain what the Gaians were, so she just shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me,” she said. After a moment, she decided to try and get some information out of this relic. “What are you?”

  “My unit designation is Universal Humanoid Service Robot Model two-three-two-six-seven-five. My owners called me ‘Suzy.’ I was designed with service around the home in mind, and given a Full-Sapience Artificial Intelligence to aid me in that role.”

  “Suzy? That’s an unusual name,” Willow found herself ... interested. It was strange, uncomfortable in some sense, but interesting nonetheless. It was a new sight, a new, talking, moving automaton made out of metal. She had a name, even!

  “I found it to be rather common with my family around. Speaking of, do you know how long I have been in sleep mode? It must have been quite long, as the plants have overgrown this area, but I still feel I should report to my family.”

  “I ... I don’t know. When did you ... go into ... sleep mode?” The words stumbled awkwardly out of Willow’s mouth. Suzy stopped for a moment, going completely motionless. The cave became quiet, save the gentle dripping of water and quiet whirring emanating from Suzy’s chest. Finally, she answered.

  “Two hundred-seventy-five point eighty-seven years ago.” Her face shifted, the ceramic and metal bending and molding into confusion and worry. “No... that...doesn’t make sense. How could no one have come for me? Surely, I would have been collected for the recycling centres or sold to a new family if they no longer wanted me. Last update: two hundred-seventy-five point eighty-two years ago. Last available update at same time. Memory banks empty from that point onwards…” Her voice trailed off into a series of statements and codes that Willow couldn’t even begin to parse.

  Suzy sat down right where she had laid for the last three centuries, and stared ahead towards the entrance of the cave. Perfectly still, a statue once again. Willow waved her hand in front of Suzy’s eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I am alone.”

  It wasn’t sad, or angry, as far as Willow could tell. It was a simple, neutral, statement of fact. Willow’s heart still dropped like a stone, and she scooted herself closer to Suzy. There wasn’t much she could offer, but if this really was a sentient being she was talking to, she very well couldn’t leave it thinking it would be alone, now could she? Being alone was an awful fate for anyone, particularly in the Undergrowth. Practically a death sentence. If not physical, an emotional and spiritual death.

  “You know, I’m...I’m a Deep Gatherer for my Stamen. I just set up a new line down here, so I’ll be coming down to gather mushrooms and the like a lot
. That’s what I was doing before I found you. In fact,” she gestured to the clumps of mushrooms scattered about by Suzy. “I was gathering those specifically when I found you. So... I’ll be coming down every once in a while. We can meet here and talk, have breakfast with each other and have tea. It’ll be...it’ll be something, right?”

  She wasn’t sure why she offered. Maybe it was just because she knew she’d cross paths with this Suzy again if she kept using this access point. Maybe it was curiosity, a desire to get to know a real-life relic, or maybe it simply an offer to make herself feel better about the situation. Willow didn’t know, and her thoughts were far too jumbled for her to process right now. All she could do was wait for Suzy’s response.

  “I think that would be beneficial for me, yes.” She looked around the cave. “Perhaps I can turn this into a sort of home. I cannot very well go back in time, so I will have to make do. Thank you for freeing me, I do not know if I would have gotten out of sleep mode without your help.”

  An image flashed in Willow’s mind, of being aware but trapped between thick layers of bark and wood, unable to move, see, smell, or do anything beyond wait forever. Even if it was a brief thought, it would keep itself in her subconscious for a long, long time. She shivered gently, before replying.

  “Keep the knife,” Willow said. “I can get another one pretty easily. I... have to go now, the Woundmender is expecting me.” She gathered the fungus, brushing the dirt off some of the larger ones. Suzy rushed to help, gathering bundles in her arms and offering them to Willow. By the time she had left, she had emptied her bag entirely, disposing of the food and water she had brought (not like she was particularly hungry, after all), and keeping only the jezail by her side.

  “I did not ask you what your name was,” Suzy said.

  “Willow,” she replied, walking towards the exit.

  “I look forward to seeing you again, Willow.”

  Willow smiled and left the cave, her lumifruit long since exhausted of its energies. She hadn’t expected to take so long, and now here she was, without a light source. Of course she’d end up in this situation. Of course.