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Cellulose & Steel	By : Not-Taylor Category: Misc Books > FemmeSlash Views: 1028 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own HDG or its characters and I don't make money from this work.

Chapter List
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“Tad’su,” says the tablet’s speaker. That must be Affini for “moschi moschi.”
“Tad’su-”
The voice interrupts with some high speed alien rambling that probably amounts to “What’s the emergency?””
“I’m not sure how much of an emergency it is, strictly, speaking, but I had no idea who else to call. My…” What should it call Verda? She’s not its mistress, and calling her an affini would just make the xeno on the phone ask questions it’d rather not deal with. She’s a… what? “Bloom. Is-”
“You’re entering your second bloom? That’s not at all an emergency but I guess I can stay on the call with you since nobody else’s in trouble for the time being. I know it’s really scary but a cute bulb like you shouldn’t have any problems.” She’s not going to stop, is she?” “This is something we all go through, and I promise you’ll feel silly about being nervous once it’s over! There are affini who have done this dozens of times at least, and they’re still doing just fine because the risks are minimal. But why are we talking in-”
“No, it’s not me, it’s… my-”
“Of course, because you’re practicing for your floret! That makes so much sense! You speak the language so well I’d call you a native. And hardly an accent! With that kind of dedication I’m certain you’ll be a fantastic owner.-”
“No! Stop talking!”
“Sorry, cuteness.” What the fuck is that weed’s problem?
“I need help because an affini is in trouble and I don’t know how to help.”
“Oh! Well, what’s wrong, and why isn’t this a real emergency?”
“She’s been crying into her pillow for a third of a day now.”
“And no immediate danger?”
“No, but she’s not fit for anything at the moment. She’s the only one with permissions for the repli- the compiler and the door, so I’m trapped here with her until she snaps out of it or we both-” die.
“Until you both rebloom…” Or that? ”Well, I’m glad you were able to reach out. That does sound like a big deal, darling. Could you tell me where you are, precisely?”
Plan doesn’t know. “I… don’t… remember the address.” It’s proud of that quick of a save. “You can track me through the ship’s security system, can’t you?”
“Yes! I can! That’ll only take a moment… Right, so you’re at Verda Edok, fourth bloom’s residence, correct?”
“That’s right. I’m so glad you were able to find that out.”
“And just to be clear, is that you? If it isn’t, could I get your name for the record, nectar? You might be needed if your friend needs real help.”
“Um…” Trick question. “Whoever you send can get it in person, right? It’s a nuisance to spell and I’m not going much of anywhere.”
The affini on the other end laughs slightly more than Plan thinks is appropriate. “Of course. Can you give me the sick plant’s name, at least?”
“It’s Verda.”
“Thanks a bunch, I just needed confirmation… And before I send somebody over, what makes you so sure Verda won’t get better by herself soon?”
“Ummm… Her… floret had… issues. It’s complicated.”
“I understand, and I won’t delay just to gossip. That’s definitely something that’d make someone upset. Her floret’s so cute, too, I saw it on the news… Right! Since you’re probably on Terran time… About ten minutes until somebody’s over. I know you said the door’s locked, but try to be there to respond through it so they can confirm the emergency. I hope everything works out for you and Verda Edok and any florets who are with you. Goodbye now.”
Tricking that plant was a whole lot easier than it expected. She almost didn’t want to believe it was a floret… Maybe because that would imply very bad things about an affini, and we can’t have that, can we? Out of a habit that hadn’t disappeared in the years since it was needed, it straightens up the habitation unit before the guests arrive. Not much needs to be done since Verda’s an impeccable housekeeper. It tries not to feel jealous of her dedication. That accomplished, it takes a seat on the couch.
Until now, it hadn’t realized it has no idea what to tell whoever shows up. “My weed is wilting.” “Why?” “Because I made her sad.” “What did you do?” “I told her I cared about my people and that I couldn’t bear to let anyone hurt them.” “What’s wrong with that?” “Taking away their individual and collective autonomy hurts them. Also, I’m not her floret, even if she thinks otherwise.” “Aaaaaaaah! BAD TERRAN! Go to slave jail!” It’ll have to be more diplomatic: For instance, not addressing them as weeds will go a long way. Maybe it can trick them into thinking it’s an affini who’s extra good at shapeshifting… LOL.
The best course of action is to claim to be a citizen of the Compact. By the time Verda’s awake, it won’t matter either way. Those first minutes, however, will be precious for helping the weeds see its perspective. If the affini truly care about ensuring good lives for everyone, they’ll listen to its needs. Otherwise, a quick death is better than an eternal living death. At worst it’ll be able to play the good little floret role for long enough to figure something out.
Knock!
They’re here! It runs to the door as quickly as stubby meat legs can carry it. Of all the propulsion systems it’s used in the past, these are the worst. It knocks on the door, alerting the visitors to the fact they weren’t pranked. They shout through the door in Affini, which is too muffled to hope to make anything out, even if it were able to speak the language better. It shouts back, and they start to pry the door open. “Just be confident, you walking crime against nature,” it reminds itself. Who could be more justly confident than somebody who offends the universe simply by existing?
In the doorway stands a single weed. That’s less than optimal. Didn’t the clerk say “they?” Whoever that is stands at least a third of a meter shorter than Verda, probably closer to a full meter. Dark green, almost black, vines wrap into a jellyfish shape, complete with large puffy head. The difference is there’s a face under the cap. Do jellyfish have caps? The affini’s biorhythms are subdued, not that that’s something a normal person would notice. What’s it going to do next, start checking for reproductive organs? Focus! This is important!
“You’re here.”
“Yes, I am. Is there anyone else here? I was told there was an affini who called in an emergency…”
“That was me.” She jumps enough that the top of her head is no longer visible from where her interlocutor stands.
“You made the call?”
“Right. Are you going to come in?”
“Certainly. Could you tell me again what’s going on?”
“Well, there’s somebody who needs some help in the other room. Her name is Verda, and she’s been through a lot lately. You’ve solved most of the problem already by letting me out, but… I’d feel wrong just leaving her here. Even if she’s suffering… I’m not sure about some of the ways she’s been living.”
“Why’s that a concern for anyone but her?”
“Because she’s been treating her floret very strangely, denying it medical care and such. Forcing unnecessary xenodrugs on it. There’s a term on Terra… conversion therapy? Have you heard it?” Several of the affini’s vines coil in response.
“I never would have suspected that of her, after all the public advocacy she’s done. What a terrible thing to do to your own floret! I’ll start on the paperwork for an investigation as soon as I get back. Now… your name.”
“Um… Ember of Beginnings.” That sounds really good!
“Thanks, Ember. What were you hoping to achieve today? You said you didn’t want to leave her here, but then brought up her abuse of her floret.”
“She’s suffering a lot right now, and I was hoping you or somebody would know how to set her straight. Verda barely responds when I try to talk to her. I’m… not very good with situations like this, though.”
“I see. Well, I can try my best, but it’s important you stay with me, as a witness, should she report events differently from how I do.”
“I’d like to get out of here, if you don’t mind. I haven’t eaten in a while now.”
“It’s very important that I not be here alone. We could get something together if you’d like, first.”
That’s not the plan!
“It’s all right, I guess. Let’s get it over with.”
The room is dark. She hasn’t turned on any lights since her prisoner last checked on her. She doesn’t seem to have moved a millimeter. That’s bad. It knows she isn’t dead (or “reblooming”) but that doesn’t make things less disturbing.
“Hi, Verda? Can you hear me?”
Silence. She says something a little louder in Affini. No reply. The emergency responder slithers closer and talks in her ear, not that affini ears can hear anything (Ember thinks). She finally pokes Verda, and that’s what gets her attention. Like some sort of predator from a cheap horror movie, she twists around and snares her attacker tightly in a hundred vines of various sizes and lengths, xenodrug laden needles and thorns against the victim’s “skin.” She only relaxes slightly when she sees she’s only captured another affini. Maybe she was hoping for proper prey.
“What are you doing in my house?”
“We got a tip that somebody living here wasn’t doing very well, so I came by to check.”
“You can go.”
“Can you tell me your name?”
“What do you care?”
“Please? I’d like to know you.”
She sighs in resignation. The effort in her voice is palpable. It’s as if she’s struggling to form sounds that can be considered language.
“Verda Edok, fourth bloom.”
“Thank you, Verda. My name is Violet Cornucopia, ninth bloom, and I’m here to help however I can.”
“I don’t need help, but thank you Violet.”
“Are you sure? When was the last time you fed your floret?”
She tenses as though she’s going to sit up but relaxes again.
“Not long… My floret is fine.”
“Are you sure about that? Where is your floret? Do you know?”
“Around.”
“What’s your floret’s name?”
“Olivia Edok, second floret.”
“Second? What about your first?”
“Nowhere nearby.”
“So you misplaced two florets?”
“No… I know where they are.”
“So where’s Olivia? I haven’t seen her anywhere in the building.”
“She’s… somewhere.” It’s impressive how Verda can speak while remaining virtually stationary. Not having an actual jaw has clear advantages.
“I thought so. Verda, your friend here was right to call somebody to check on you.”
“What friend?”
“Ember. Do you have any idea who I’m talking about? Because Ember’s been locked in here with you and your floret, who I can’t even sense right now, and neither of them have been able to get any food because you have your compiler locked to you alone.”
“It hasn’t been that long.” Seeing her this way is painful. If the affini haven’t been lying this whole time about how obsessed they are with their florets, Verda… not caring whatsoever says a huge amount. She’d probably have let herself die here if it hadn’t done something.
“It’s been… Eight hours, I think is how the numbers work out? Are you aware you’ve been lying here covered in broken glass on a damp mattress for the last eight hours?”
“See? Not that long.”
The lights go on.
“Wake up, you sad piece of work! You’re not some muddleheaded first bloom going through a breakup. You should know a whole lot better than this. You’re going to sit all the way up and tell me what in the Everbloom’s Garden is going on. Pull yourself together!”
Verda flinches at the loud noise and the light but doesn’t move.
“Now, Verda, or I’ll tell Emergency Processing that you’re not fit to own a pet.”
“I’m not. I’m not good enough.” Psychic powers aren’t needed to tell she’s starting to cry through her exhaustion and depression. The other affini’s tone softens.
“Do you think I could help? I bet Olivia would be heartbroken, seeing you like this. Why don’t you sit up and I’ll get you something to perk you up, and when I’m back you can tell me all about it. How does that sound?”
No reply.
“I’ll be back very quickly, Verda. What do you want?” she asks, pivoting to Ember.
“Filling but easy to eat Terran breakfast, thanks.”
Violet nods and darts out the bedroom door a lot more quickly than would be expected of a jellyfish. That’s because she’s an affini, and built for speed. Ironic that plants would have such an aerodynamic design, but they’re weird xeno plants not subject to sense or rationality, Ember guesses.
It doesn’t have to wait long. When Violet returns she’s carrying a bowl of yogurt, dried fruit, and granola, which she hands over quickly. That works. She hands Verda, who’s still slumped over but not entirely formless, a mug of something with an unfamiliar smell. She grunts her thanks and takes a sip, and quickly looks a bit better.
“There we are.” Violet opens a couple of folding chairs that were hidden… somewhere, and gestures for Ember to sit. “So, Verda, are you ready to tell me what happened? I’m happy to just listen so you can get it out in the open.”
“Hm.”
“Would you rather I asked questions until I guessed what the matter was?”
“Hm.”
“So your ex left because your vines weren’t dextrous enough, am I right? Or have you taken up snoring since you got a terran floret?”
“Hm? Mmm!”
“I can’t tell what you’re saying.” Verda starts thrashing pathetically limply. “Maybe a rebel insulted you and your comeback was ‘please say that louder, daddy. I want everyone to know what a filthy weed I am.’” That got her attention.
“What’s your problem?”
“I’m just wondering what somebody like you is doing, lying in bed with a hungry floret who I’m going to have to hunt down as soon as we’re done talking. Rain above, Verda Edok, I know who you are, and only a fourth bloom. I know you can do better than this, so maybe you could explain. I might be able to help you out, or at least give you a hug.”
“Hm.”
“You’re sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
“...”
Ember gestures in between bites of breakfast to get Violet to come over to it. “Try a long high pitched beep and a short medium pitched beep.” She stares at it in confusion until it nods meaningfully.
“Um… Beeeeep beep?”
“Bzzz,” Verda replies.
“She’s listening, now try.”
“Verda, are you all right?” the visiting affini gently asks.
“No.”
“Are you willing to talk about it with me?”
“Hm? Fine.”
“Good. What has your vines in tangles?’
“My floret is… difficult. Olivia was a radical feralist, one of the worst. My floret doesn’t like that name any more, so…”
Violet listens patiently while Verda figures out that she needs to complete the thought.
“I don’t know what to say. My floret is virulently against everything Affini, our culture, our thoughts, everything but our language. My floret can’t bear the thought of being among us and wants to singlehandedly bring back the Accord. I can’t allow that sort of self destructive behavior to happen, which made my floret angry constantly. Endless derogatory and abusive language… I can handle it. I don’t care for myself, but my floret has started abusing others, and I haven’t had a chance to stop it. My floret was neurologically harmed several days ago, leading to a stay in a veterinary hospital, and a lot of trauma that I’m obviously partially responsible for as my floret’s owner. My floret is starting to recover, and that means even more rage and hate and anger, directed anywhere that it will land. I… want my floret to be happy. That’s all…
“Last night, we had another argument. My floret insists that all of the fighting and contradiction was in the interest of keeping humans safe and protected from harm. That alleged harm is from us. My floret thinks that we’re one of the forces that provoked the Domesticative Impulse. If we’d done better during Militarized Domestication… I think my floret wouldn’t be resisting. If I’d done better… my floret wouldn’t need to be corrected. My floret doesn’t even like most of what my floret is so dedicated to defending, and… it’s my fault. I made that violence. I’m partly responsible for my floret’s record.”
“What record?”
“The record is classified for my floret’s safety.”
“Is it really that bad?”
“Yes.”
“That’s difficult to work through, Verda. You have to be strong for your floret, so you both can get used to each other.”
“It’s too late. There’s nothing I can say… I’ve done everything I can, and it wasn’t enough. There are fundamental beliefs to be corrected. I can’t debate those without overwriting them.”
“You don’t have to." Violet seems to hum that statement.
“You know the cost of that. Would you pay it?”
“The reluctance is understandable, but protecting a floret from harm is more important than your concerns. Decisions like these are why we have to be so careful with our feelings.”
“How can I argue against a sapling Impulse without uprooting it? I could never…”
“There can’t be an Impulse in a floret race, especially not one like humanity. You should know them better than anyone, Verda.”
“I know… but…” She takes a long drink from her cup and looks more stable. “This one is different.”
“You know that every rapchik thinks the same thing,” says Violet soothingly.
“No, I’m serious. My floret is different. Brain damage. Have you ever heard a floret try to lecture you on the harm you’re doing, and how the Affini must be eradicated for the safety of the universe?”
“Once. During my last bloom, I think. Though that was before negotiations concluded.”
“What about something to the effect of ‘if I ever stop fighting against the psychological harm you want to cause humanity, you’ll know that who I am no longer exists’?”
“Your floret told you that?”
“Not as cleanly. My floret still is a terran.”
“I see what you mean. How much prompting did you do?’
“Prompting! Be serious. The prompting happened over the years when our broadcasts were failing to change a single floret’s mind. Have you ever heard of a human who accepted domestication because of them?”
“There were a few by… that scouting fleet inward on Earth’s galactic arm, weren’t there?”
“They were shown the truth in conversation, or so I heard,” Verda says.
“You could be right. Does that change anything for your floret?”
“My floret is factually correct on this subject. If you spoke, you’d know the truth.”
“What would I know, Verda?”
“You’d know my floret’s loyalty is pure and my floret’s compassion is greater than many. You’d also notice something was strange. I certainly did.”
“Strange?”
“You wouldn’t know if you didn’t meet my floret. It’s impossible to express.” She sips again and looks just a little more like herself.
“”Truly strange, or simply strange?”
“Truly.”
“How odd,” Violet muses, tendrils swishing along the floor.
“It was, but we’ve acclimated.”
“Why haven’t you simplified the situation?”
“Because simplicity is the enemy of nuance, and my floret is greatly nuanced, as well as fragile.”
“Didn’t you say the fragility struck following some failure of domestication?”
“I did not but that’s the case.”
“So…” Violet prompts.
“Because what my floret told me was the truth. My floret cannot survive what you’re suggesting.”
“Go shed!”
“You don’t believe I know my pet?”
“I believe you’ve caught… What do they call it? Razz?”
“I haven’t caught razz, I’ve paid careful attention over two of their weeks, That’s plenty of time to make a confident statement, Violet.”
“Really, is it?”
“The safety of what you’re suggesting is well established and I’m not foolish enough to pretend otherwise," says Verda sadly. "However, I believe that the floret I took would not persist under such treatment. Maintaining the happiness of a shell is useless if the mollusk has departed.
“You’ve fallen victim to their superstitions if you believe that.”
“There’s more to my floret than you imagine. I know for a fact.”
“I could try to get some sort of dispensation for you two. Would you like that?”
“No. There’s no middle ground. Independence puts us all at risk, but primarily other florets. Do you remember what happened with Great Bough’s raska floret and the compiler?”
“Nobody wanted to talk about anything else for a year.” Violet shivers with some difficult to read emotion.
“Mine was prepared to be just as bad. Twice.”
“Your point is taken.”
“If I can’t domesticate gently, or fully, and if I can’t loose my floret on the public, what options are there?”
“There’s... one.”
“How dare you!”
“Every possibility must be considered for the greater good. If everything else results in greater harm to florets and protected species, what choice is there?”
“I can’t give up. If it takes every bit of life in my core, I will not give up on my floret.” Verda bursts into tears and the jellyfish plant spends a long time comforting her, patting her back and vibrating tendrils on various parts of her exterior.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes. I understand your predicament. Your frustration is legitimate and your sorrow is heard.”
“Out of everything, the fact I failed my floret, who deserves a good and happy life…”
“All of them do.”
“But this one was my responsibility.”
“You’re more capable than you feel right now. Ember, do you have anything to say?”
“No.” It doesn't want to insert itself into this discussion. That's why Violet is there.
“‘Ember?’ Who is that?” Verda asks.
“Your friend. Give salutation, Ember.” Verda sits up instantly, staring in shock at the person whose name she didn’t know. Evidently she hadn’t noticed it sitting there this whole time.
“You’re calling yourself Ember now?”
“That’s what you were just told,” it snarks, pausing a spoon full of yogurt still on the way to its mouth.
“Do you know who Ember is, Violet? That is, do you actually know?”
“I thought this was one of your friends. Ember is the one who called for support, since you were in such a pitiful state. Rightly so, since you were covered in glass when I got here.”
“‘Ember’ shattered a bottle of water on my head. That’s why I was covered in glass, for your information.”
“And you never cleaned yourself off? When did that happen?” The fringes of the bulby part of Violet's head turn up slightly.
“...”
“Of course. Verda, where is this floret you think so highly of? Where did she go for this whole time? What is going on?”
“You’re asking about the individual beside you.”
“What?” Violet stares in jellyfishy shock.
“What?” Ember shrugs.
“You’re not affini?”
“Not the last time I checked.”
“That’s not funny. Yes or no.”
“Then I don’t think so, probably not.”
“Yes or no, Ember.”
“No.”
“That was hard. Where’s the affini who was with you two?”
“It’s been us two since I called,” Ember says.
“I was told you were an affini. That’s… disturbing.”
“And you believed my floret’s little prank? This is what I’ve been putting up with since acquiring this one. I told you my floret was something else!” Verda sounds very smug under the tears that she’s struggling to contain.
“I read about the affini who body swapped with a terran for a while. Or was that the one who outright stole the terran’s body? There were a bunch of those, weren’t there? I thought this was the same thing happening again. Terrans are obsessed with being affini.”
“Don’t you have that backwards?" Ember has no desire to be talked down to. "It sounds more like you’re obsessed with being human, if you’re the ones snatching their bodies.”
“I should say not!” She's offended. Good.
“I’m sure you should. Do you see, I can be pedantic as well,” Ember snarks.
A strange sound resembling a groan comes from the affini’s mouth area, if that’s actually a mouth and not something else. Ember’s not sure what jellyfish mouths are like.
“You believed my floret was an affini without questioning it. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
“No, it doesn’t mean that at all. It means that I’m on grass roots trying not to offend every firstbloom-firstfloret roleplay session. Do you know how many magical affiniterrans there are? I met one yesterday! Now I’m meeting another one, in a one in a quadrillion chance interaction. You wouldn’t believe how sick I am of this constant raceplay dirt. Just once would I like to see a mental breakdown that can’t be explained as a plant being unable to keep a fetish in the bedroom. I swear, I’m making a wager when I get back. Watch yourself, Verda Edok, and keep your property in line. If you need me again, I don’t care. You’ll get somebody else. Rotting bedrock, I can’t take it!” Violet storms out of the house without looking back more than her physiology causes her to. She doesn't bother to take the chairs.
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Cellulose & Steel