The Speaker for the Trees (12 page)

Hedge decided
the weed must be correct and, feeling greatly relieved, stood up, tucked the
pot under his arm and began to move away from the terminal. What could possibly
happen? The answer, as the weed had made patently clear, was nothing.

"Stop!"

The voice was
tiny with distance but grew larger when it repeated. Coming closer.

Hedge
stiffened. If he bolted it would only draw more attention. So close! How did
they know? Had John Elm figured out what he was up to and alerted the Council?
If so he'd surely be mulched. A wave of sadness swept over him. Not just for
himself, but for the Plant of Ultimate Knowing and humanity as well. Soon he
would be surrounded by troopers who would take him to a makeshift Mulchitorium
and that would be the end of him, the end of the Plant of Ultimate Knowing and
the end of humanity. Thrice a failure.

But no. He
couldn't allow this to happen. Not to Anna. Not to everyone and everything.
Maybe he could bluff his way out of this. Plants weren't accustomed to
deception so they might be fooled by it. As he had learned from humanity, the
best way for the guilty to elude prosecution was to behave as though they had
done nothing wrong.

When he turned,
John Elm was running toward him and several more lingered in his steps. John huffed
and gasped for a few moments after he arrived, folded at the waist, and looked
up occasionally as though he were about to speak, then receded back into
gasping. Hedge's mind raced for an appropriate lie in the meantime.

Why was he in
possession of the humanity he was supposed to file away? There must be a
mistake. No no. That wouldn't work. I'm going to visit my brother in New
Jersey. No. That hadn't even worked on Anna. Anna. How he missed her. The awful
pork chops, her persistent questions, her fascination with the misery of her
fellow humans, the way she wanted nothing more than to want him to want her.

"I know
what you're doing," John Elm said at last.

Curses! His
mind had drifted and the advantage was lost. What to do? He recalled reading
about humans captured by the legal system who became frantic when faced with
the reality of their crime, their mind darting wildly and swelling with the
prospect of repudiation, and ultimately confessed all to relieve the burden of
their guilt. They were punished all the same. Yet all those who avoided
punishment seemed to share similar characteristics in that they were more
collected, kept a clear head, and utilized the lone, unfailing tactic which
remained available to them: Deny Everything.

"No you
don't," Hedge replied.

John seemed
momentarily confused, then he continued.

"I know
what you're doing," he repeated. "You're hiding them from the others.
So they can't destroy humanity. And I wanted to know..."

His eyes
drifted here and there as though suspicious someone might be listening. So it
was a bribe! A very human sort of corruption. He would have to buy the silence
of John Elm. But how? What could Hedge possess which John couldn't get from
anyone else? John's voice grew quieter.

"I wanted
to know if we could go, too."

Hedge was too
surprised to respond.

“We have to
leave now,” John continued. “We’re being followed.”

“How did the
Council find out?” asked the Plant.

“They don’t
know. Not yet. It isn’t the Council. It’s a Visitor. The Council is tearing the
planet apart looking for it. And you. It knows you, Hedge. It asked for you by
name.”

Hedge remained
speechless.

“Well then,”
said the Plant. “We had best be on our way.”

Hedge tapped a
nail into the skeleton of a half-completed fence, just deep enough to hold it
in place. Then he lined up the shaft and smashed the nail into the wood up to
the hilt. The single strike echoed across the cornfield.

The first fence
he'd tried to build, before the abduction, was filled with crooked, jutting
nails. The uneven rails and red, swollen fingers were a testament to his poor
carpentry skills. Hedge flexed his fingers, recalling the wooden smell from the
hammer blows and the keen, stabbing throb in the tips of his hands. He'd never
felt pain until the fat metal hammerhead came down on his fingernail, and his
anguish was so blinding that it was some time before he could accept the pain
for what it was: instructive. There was a lesson in pain, and the effects were
immediate.

This time was
for making things better.

At that moment
he understood, far better than he had before when he studied their histories
and their political structures before he arrived, what it was to be human.
Their whole existence was centered upon suffering. That was the first time he
considered humanity's massive potential. They made frequent mistakes, yes, but
if those mistakes were adequately painful they made every effort to avoid
repeating them, to improve upon their errors. To be more careful so they didn't
catch their thumb under the hammerhead.

It made sense
why their history was alternately tragic and astounding. With each disaster
came new awareness. The only worry was that one day the disaster might be so
traumatic and devastating there would be no recovery. This was probably the
initial concern of the Council of Plants.

Of course, the
Council of Plants believed that dilemma had been mitigated.

Hedge grinned.

On the other
hand, humanity might one day be able to judge the results of their actions
before they took them. In essence, to see the hammer blow before it fell. That
is what he, and the others who joined him, were hoping.

Rows of corn
bent at the peak like the bristles of an overused broom; the willow commanded
the open area beside the thin, dirty road that vanished into the forest; the
blue sky faded from orange to purple as the sun departed.

Hedge and the
others were happy to discover the new planet was just as lovely as the last.
Many of the species which populated the previous world existed in similar form
here, too. Dogs and cats and lions and ostriches and penguins, though they
still had to make several covert trips back to the original planet to procure
those plants and animals the humans called pets but kept as friends.

Hedge toiled
endlessly, reviewing the stories of their lives, trying to refashion the world
as they remembered it, but with a touch of change here and there based on
suggestions by the plants who accompanied him. A few extra plants, more
poignant histories from which to learn, more pleasant thoughts from the past.
John Elm, who had been a grocer, recommended more bananas.

Bananas, John
explained, contain tryptophan, which the human body converts to relaxing
seratonin; contain potassium, which lowers blood pressure and raises alertness,
which facilitates learning and thought; is high in fiber and restores normal
bowel action; is a natural antacid; soothes intestinal disorders; lowers the
chance of stroke. Even the inside of the banana skin was useful in reducing the
swelling and irritation of mosquito bites.

Most times he
found himself thinking of Anna, reviewing her story in particular, the
countless times she would be watching him without his knowing, how she spent
every moment of their existence trying to please him and feeling as though she
was in danger of failing, the days she spent after he left before the
abduction. It was the sight of those moments which he agonized over most
because he had hurt her, unwittingly, and she felt as though he'd forsaken her.
He agonized over the thought that he'd betrayed her confidence and broken
something that could never be mended.

Days and months
and weeks and years and more blended together into an indistinguishable morass,
and Hedge sometimes found himself trying to remember why they had started this
project. Was it just so he could see Anna again, or was there a greater
purpose? It troubled him to think everything he had done was humanly selfish,
that there was no other reason for saving humanity than to save one person. And
to save that person for himself. That, he noted, seemed keenly similar to the
love she had expressed for him.

Hedge leaned
back from the fence and sat.

It was during
this moment, a few nails in his mouth and hammer in hand, his exhausted mind
spinning thoughtlessly, when a figure approached and stood before him. The
figure stopped between Hedge and the setting sun, and a shining corona
silhouetted the person with a golden blaze as if the visitor were some biblical
entity sent to place him on the path to righteousness, or punish him violently
for straying.

Human religions
were filled with stories of divine intervention, with angels and demons and
gods and such visiting people to tell them what steps to take next because
people believed themselves to be ignorant and didn't trust themselves to know
where to go on their own. It filled Hedge with sudden hope to know a creature
who supposedly knew everything, knew exactly what must be done, was here to aid
him. It reassured him, as the myth of the Plant of Ultimate Knowing had granted
a sense of righteousness to all he did before he learned the truth.

The figure
crouched, the dazzle of light vanished, and the familiar features of John Elm
came into focus. He looked tired, or gray, or somehow different than Hedge
recalled. How long had they been doing this?

John looked at
the incomplete fence, then looked back at Hedge.

"What are
you doing?" he asked. His voice was older and raspy, like soft-splintered
wood.

"Thinking,"
Hedge replied, though he was unsure he'd been doing anything of the sort.
"I think."

John extended a
hand toward Hedge.

"Banana?"
he asked.

"No,
thanks."

John shrugged,
peeled the banana, and began to eat it.

"Thinking
about what?"

"I
think... wondering why we were doing this," Hedge decided. "Maybe
whether we should. What will it accomplish? Was the Council right? What if
humanity is a dangerous failure? What if I'm doing this for myself and the
result is disaster?"

John stood
again. Set one hand on his hip and took a deep breath. His features became
shrouded and the light gave him a supernatural glow. All that prevented the
figure from appearing divine was the propeller shape of a peeled banana still
in his hand.

"Wonder
the same thing every now and again," said John. "Helps to think of
horoscopes."

"Horoscopes?"

Horoscopes, as
Hedge recalled, were another trivial tidbit which delighted Anna. Presumably,
they foretold the future for groups of people born during a certain time of
year. When Hedge investigated, he found the horoscopes were vague, perhaps
purposefully, simple statements that could be made to apply to anyone.
Sometimes their predictions were horribly incorrect, but that did not dissuade
her from taking pleasure in the rare paragraph that was right.

"Horoscopes
and fortune cookies and little candy hearts with loving phrases," John
continued. "Reminds me they search everywhere for glimmers of hope to
inspire them."

Hedge recalled
Anna telling him that on the night they met she'd read a horoscope that prophesied
she would meet someone from far away who would bring her lasting happiness. It
had come true, she said, so it was entirely possible another could be equally
right.

Of course,
Hedge knew that was not the case. The idea of that particular horoscope had
either been an invention of those who rewrote her history or an invention of
her own mind. It took very little convincing to make humans believe what they
wanted to believe.

"But they
are all false," said Hedge. "There is no true clairvoyance."

"Trueness
or falseness isn't the point. It's the search that's important. Makes me
remember my earthchildren and their initial attempts to ride the two-wheeled
vehicles... Manually propelled devices." John thumped a finger on his
temple. "What are they called?"

"Bicycles."

"That's
it. Bound and determined to ride those bicycles and always meeting with
failure. Bruising themselves. Cursing themselves. But they persevered. Then, at
the limit of their frustration, they asked me if they would ever be able to
ride with the same ease as others. After some thought I answered them: Yes. I
believed they could do it. It seemed a logical conclusion. All they required
was repetition to familiarize themselves with the contraption and maintain
their balance. Soon after, they did. At the same time I realized it wasn't so
much the practice they needed, but faith. In fact, faith might have been all
they required. That was my cathartic moment—when I realized humans have
difficulty believing in themselves, but if someone believes in them, they can
accomplish anything. They have reason to hope. It's why they look so often to
their benevolent entities. They believe in those mighty beings in the hope that
those mighty beings might believe in them. Deities exist for people, you see,
not the other way around."

"What are
you saying?"

"I'm
saying that is why I decided to do this. Because I enjoy this place, but also
because I think they can be great. Because I believe they can succeed. They can
do truly amazing things, and I want to be witness to them. Consider my
earthchildren and their bicycle. They want to succeed. Imagine the
extraordinary effects of simply telling them they can."

* * *

Hedge stood on
the lowest step of the staircase, arms stretched to their limit overhead,
adjusting a picture frame until it was not quite level with the bookshelf
beside it and the ship in the photo appeared to be sailing down a sloped ocean
to the edge of the world. When he released it the picture righted itself.

Humans had once
believed their world was no more than a shingle of land and water drifting
through the ether, with no explanation for what happened if someone were to
venture beyond the boundary. It was an ignorant perception of the past at which
most scoffed, but those who were wiser simply shook their heads in
embarrassment knowing similar fears and ignorance confronted them in different
forms now. They would persist and overcome, just as they had before. In spite
of a multitude of dissenters guided by a supernatural fear of the unknown,
their logic would prevail in the end, and that was their salvation.