Foliaceous

“Your research shows such promise,” Ashley said. Despite the administrator’s words, there was nothing pleasant or welcoming in her expression.

Hana had very real worries about the meeting, but she couldn’t stop herself from being distracted by the plants growing up the fibre wall behind Ashley. They were pothos, in varying green shades, many with streaks of cream, and they crawled over each other and up towards the sunlight-glow of the ceiling panel. Hana’s eyes tried to track the path of one particular neon pothos vine through the dense thicket.

“The supplemental oxygen and energy device is such a creative idea,” Ashley said, dragging Hana’s attention back to the matter at hand. “We really do love it. That’s why we asked you to join us on Ecosys II. We are constantly in search of new approaches to solve recognized problems.”

Hana really disliked how Ashley used ‘we’ to avoid taking personal responsibility, but far more than that, she didn’t love the name, or awkward acronym, SOED, that had been slapped on her device. Every time she heard it she went off on a mental rant about how it overly focused on what the photosynthetic collars did, instead of describing what they were.

Unconsciously, Hana sat up a bit straighter  and gently shook out the thick leaf-like collar attached to her neck. Her friend Thea always said it was more of a cape than a collar, hanging down as it did to Hana’s elbows when it wasn’t active.

During her first video interview with Ashley, Hana had thought the woman seemed pleasant enough, if too immersed in corporate-speak. And she was flattered that Ashley expressed enthusiasm for her work. As happy as Hana was in her cozy greenhouse-lab in northern Ontario, the opportunity to work on Ecosys II, in the very conditions in which people would most benefit from using the collars, wasn’t something she felt that she could decline

“Your initial results, from your own use of the SOED and the small test group, support the hypothesis you submitted. We see a slight increase in oxygen and carbohydrates that are available to the wearer through the ports on the neck,” Ashley was scrolling through notes on the tablet in front of her, periodically glancing up to look at Hana—or more specifically at Hana’s collar and the visible connections just above her clavicle. “With further development, we see market potential for the device within the deep space exploration sector.”

Hana wasn’t sure what part she hated more, that Ashley was only interested in exploiting her work or that Ashley didn’t think it was ready to be exploited yet. That was offensive.

Hana was well aware that people thought she was a bit too  ‘mad scientist’ and disconnected from practical matters. And she was willing to admit there was a certain truth to that.

“Some day your work will make such a contribution,” Ashley continued. “But not yet.”

She smiled at Hana sadly and that was perhaps even more annoying than the rest of it.

“Once your work is ready for a full trial, we’d love to have you back. It’s fascinating, don’t get me wrong. but it’s not ready and you haven’t made sufficient progress while you’ve been here.” Ashley paused for a moment. “I know this is beside the point, but I must tell you, the collars are beautiful.”

That was far from beside the point for Hana. She was ridiculously proud of the collar’s aesthetic. But that was the issue right there, wasn’t it? That was why she didn’t fit into the Ecosys II model.

And it wasn’t lost on her that Ashley had talked almost continuously for the entire meeting, not allowing any sort of response from Hana.

“You’ll receive notice once the next project for the lab is lined up,” Ashley continued. “You can return to Earth on the ship that brings them.”

The only vehicles permanently at the station were the evacuation pods, just enough of a vehicle to give the station occupants a chance if the worst happened. The shuttles that took staff to and from Earth didn’t remain any longer than necessary. It would have cost something to keep a shuttle docked at the station and that wasn’t the Ecosys way.

Afterwards, Hana couldn’t recall what she said as she left the room. Perhaps a mumbled thank you.

***

“What happened?” Thea asked as soon as Hana walked into her lab.

“Exactly what we thought. My work isn’t ‘marketable’ enough and I’m gone as soon as the next shuttle gets here,” Hana said as she dropped onto a stool pulled next to Thea at a lab table.

If Hana had made one friend since arriving on Ecosys II, it was Thea who occupied the lab next to hers. They’d met on Hana’s first day on the station and immediately found themselves at ease with each other. Superficially, they had little in common—Thea had lived all her life in a city, had no siblings, and worked in agriculture—but it didn’t seem to matter.

“I’m so sorry.” Thea put her tablet down on the table.

“Don’t be. It’s not like I didn’t see this coming. For what it’s worth, Ashley’s right. My work doesn’t have an obvious market niche yet for her to exploit.”

“But your work is so much more creative than mine. I’m just growing my little corn plants,” Thea said with a vague wave of her hand towards the back of her lab, which was sectioned off to function as a greenhouse. “You’ve made a whole new thing. I love your collar. I can’t believe they’re sending you back.”

“Look at what you’re doing, though. Creating your efficient corn, all productive and eager to grow in low gravity environments. What’s not to like about that?”

Thea laughed. “That’s me, all market-oriented. Not that I tried to be!”

“I know.” Even though she joked about it, Hana could hear the edge in Thea’s tone. “Anyway, how are the plants?”

“Doing well! That latest gene modification seems to have done the trick. They’re nicely robust, but—and this is really key—their size is more in keeping with can be accommodated on a station of this size or a generation ship.”

“I’m so glad.”

After a moment’s silence, Hana continued. “I don’t know that I’ll have enough space to take back all the plants in my lab. In my quarters. Do you want them? Some of them?”

It wasn’t the most important thing, but Hana felt fixated on it.

“Sure, I’ll take them. Or some of them,” Thea laughed. “The willows at least. I really like the idea of a little tree-like creature in here.”

“They won’t bother the corn?”

“I’m going to be honest with you, Hana, corn is kind of boring most of the time.”

“Fair,” Hana said with a laugh. “I meant to ask you, have you tried contacting Earth recently? I couldn’t get a connection to my sister yesterday.”

“Strange. I couldn’t get through to my parents this morning, either. I’m sure it’ll sort itself out. Probably some weird alignment thing.”

***

Hana hadn’t been pretending to take the situation well with Thea. It wasn’t unexpected or, to be fair, even particularly unwanted. She’d taken the position for what she thought she could get out of it. It wasn’t as if lab space on a middle Earth orbit station—or any space station or outpost—was all that easy to come by. She didn’t think it would be that bad.

But when she  walked into her lab the full extent of the situation broke over her in a rush. She leaned back against the wall and let herself slowly slide down to sit on the floor.

What was she going to do?

For as long as she could remember, Hana had wanted nothing more than to build or design something as incredible as a plant—so beautiful and so functional.

And that’s what she’d done.

The photosynthetic collars were thick and dark green, smooth on the upper side that framed her face, made from animal-derived cells but capable of mimicking at least some of the functions of a plant and sharing the benefits with their human wearer through the connections that attached it at the neck.

From a focal point in the middle of the ceiling, the light began to grow. And, although Hana couldn’t directly sense it, the humidity was increasing and the collar began to rise of its own accord, spreading out around her face as if she were a frilled lizard. Unconsciously, as she always did, she gave her head a little shake.

Then came the faint puffing sound of the stoma on the collar’s underside, the noise they made when oxygen was emitted. It never failed to make her smile, never failed to make her feel at least a little plant-like.

Even though the space station was overfull with plants, the corridors and most of the offices and labs were not optimized for photosynthesis. And, much as she wished it were otherwise, the collars were not as forgiving of less-than-ideal conditions as actual plants were. Hana’s usual mental rejoinder of ‘not yet’—both to the collars’ sensitivity and the conditions of the station—didn’t come this time.

She had arrived on Ecosys II with such great hopes. And, honestly, the belief that, even if the station’s work was overly focused on commercial opportunities, she could somehow—she’d never really thought through the details—overcome that through sheer force of her creativity.

She took a deep breath, she wasn’t going to start down that spiral of regret. She dragged herself up and brushed off her pants.

Reaching up to her neck, she disconnected the collar from the hooks embedded in her skin. The SOED was self-powered, but the humidity levels, even here in the lab where she was in control of them, were insufficient. The collar required a good soaking in the nutrient trough for an hour a day.

She could have replaced it with one of the other collars, but, though she was loathe to admit it, she liked the break from wearing it, if only for a little while.

That was at the top of the list for future improvements. She wasn’t nearly as impractical as others thought. She knew that, if it was ever going to reach the point of widespread use, she needed to find a way to create a lighter, thinner collar. The current weight often left Hana’s shoulders and upper chest aching and uncomfortably sweaty.

She walked around the lab, wondering how much longer she’d have.

In her attempt to replicate her home lab, she had filled this one with as many plant-kin as she could. Long, prickly raspberry canes formed an arch just far enough inside the doorway so as not to be too much of a danger and to provide easy access to snacks. Wide, deep containers mimicking boggy conditions, over near the collar trough, held low cranberry bushes in front of cattails (she would admit this planting was rather whimsical of her, but the plants were flourishing, so it was perhaps less impractical than even she had imagined).

Often Hana felt like she was infiltrating the human world, sneaking her plant-kin into some parallel mode of existence. She glanced over at the container tucked into a corner, with its clump of thin, arching willow branches. She’d brought a couple twigs, carefully wrapped in her clothes, from the tree that grew in her backyard and then stuck them in soil as soon as she’d arrived. She was more than pleased with the result.

Hana had spent more time with trees and grasses, shrubs and wildflowers than she had with people as a child. And she’d seen no reason to change that circumstance as she grew. While she couldn’t replicate that backyard meadow entirely, there was something of the smell of it and, sometimes, when she missed it particularly much, she’d play birdsong recordings and the sound of cicadas.

***

“As I am sure you are all painfully aware, we’ve been out of contact with Earth for twelve days now. While there’s no immediate impact on day-to-day operations, this is clearly a matter of grave concern.” Ashley was standing in front of the station’s full complement of close to a hundred people who were gathered for their weekly meeting.

There were nods and frowns in response. The common room was large and the staff were gathered on rows of sofas and chairs, some sitting on the carpeted floor, a few choosing to stand at the back. Hana and Thea sat to one side of the room, Hana in particular trying to appear as innocuous as possible.

While there might not be an immediate impact for most of them, for Hana the situation had left her in an excruciating limbo. With her departure date now unknowable, her lab remained half-packed, though she had continued to work, partly out of boredom and partly as a soft fuck you directed at Ashley.

“I want to reassure you there are sufficient supplies for several months.”

“Are we assuming this is more than just a communications issue?” someone asked from the back.

“We aren’t assuming anything, we don’t know what the problem is, so we need to plan for all eventualities, don’t we?” Ashley said. There was a peevish undercurrent to her voice. “We will be reassigning staff. We can’t afford to wait until the situation is critical.”

“Can’t we send someone to Earth to find out what’s going on?” someone else asked.

“No,” Ashley said and the frustration was now clear, even in the one word. “We don’t have the means to do that. There’s no shuttle parked here.”

The question of what exactly was going on had become the main topic of discussion throughout the ship. A profound communications disaster, most likely caused by an unprecedented geomagnetic storm or something similar, was the most popular explanation, but far from the only one. For her part, Hana was sure the reality would turn out to be both more mundane and weirder than any of the suggestions that involved aliens, disease, or sudden, catastrophic global war.

“What happens when we run out of food?” the woman sitting beside Hana called out.

“We’re not running out of food,” Ashley snapped. “I’ll reassign…”

“I think we should talk to the people in the agriculture labs.”

“What about medical? We only have the capacity to deal with minor issues. We’ve always shipped the serious cases back to Earth.”

“I don’t want to give up my lab space.”

The cacophony grew along with Ashley’s deepening frown.

“Stop!” She finally yelled. “We will develop a plan. You will be informed of the plan.”

“Who’s going to develop it? I think the agriculture teams…”

“Enough. The meeting’s over.” And she walked out of the room, which resulted in a long moment of shocked silence.

“That went well, didn’t it?” Thea said with a smirk as she and Hana walked down the  dense, green hallway afterwards. Vines climbed the trellises embedded in the walls and ceiling while light streamed through. A single sharp note warned of a pending mist of water, so they jogged the last few metres to Thea’s lab.

***

“Did you talk to the others?” Hana asked in a low voice as she sat  across from Thea in the dining hall.

The room was busy and most people were talking, there was little danger in being overheard and few people to do the overhearing, but Hana couldn’t help herself.

“I did. The other agriculture teams are on board. And you spoke with the experimental bio people?”

Hana nodded.

“It’s all set.”

They sat in silence for a few moments while they started to eat. Hana and Thea hadn’t been the only ones who left the meeting with no confidence in Ashley’s ability to lead them through the current crisis. An unfocused murmur of dissent built over the following days.

Perhaps matters would have been different if Ecosys II hadn’t embraced what they called a ‘minimal management model,’ which just meant that most of the station’s management was conducted from the relative comfort of Earth instead of being located on the station itself.

As it was, Ashley was outmatched by the situation and the workers were teetering on revolt.

“What do you think Ashley will do?” Thea asked.

Hana shrugged. “There really isn’t much for her to do, is there? It’s just her and what, her assistant? She has no backup and, anyway, she’s not doing anything for us right now, is she?”

“I guess not,” Thea said.

***

As Hana and Thea sat facing Ashley in her office, Hana glanced up at the tangle of pothos who continued their upward climb, oblivious to the current situation.

Hana had debated whether it would be strategic to suggest meeting with Ashley elsewhere, but had decided that such a suggestion would tip their hand. Better to take the administrator by surprise.

It probably wasn’t necessary, but they were taking no chances. Hana was the spokesperson because she, more than any of them, had nothing to lose. Thea, her own frustration growing, had been happy to come along as moral support.

“The issue I have isn’t the concept of what you’re proposing,” Ashley said. “But this would be  a major shift in direction for the station’s work. I don’t think our investors would be very pleased with that.”

Hana smiled grimly. “Your investors aren’t here. Never mind the other members of your administration team. In fact, you aren’t able to contact your investors and determine what they would or wouldn’t be pleased with, are you?”

“You aren’t able to tell us what’s wrong with the connection to Earth or when it might be fixed. You do understand how scared people are? They’re afraid of being stuck here forever and they are fucking distraught that they might never see their families again. You do understand?” Thea’s voice vibrated with an anger that surprised even Hana.

Ashley only nodded.

“If we’re going to be here indefinitely, we’re not going to keep working according to what your investors may or may not want. That would be ridiculous,” Thea continued. “We’re going to do what we want, what makes sense for us collectively.”

“But we need to make sure…”

“We will make sure,” Hana cut in. “We’ve already organized teams to ensure we have sufficient food production. Others are working on different aspects of our plan that will ensure we are able to not only survive until communication is restored, but maintain something like a normal life.”

Hana really wanted to take the opportunity to go off on Ashley about how this was exactly the sort of situation she had developed her photosynthetic collar for, to reduce the need for external food sources and lessen dependence on the life support systems. But she knew it wasn’t really the moment and it would probably be more satisfying to demonstrate it.

Ashley looked from one to the other and nodded.

“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Is there a role for me?”

Hana nodded. It wasn’t as if they were going to push her out in one of the evacuation pods.

***

“Before I teach you how to use the collar, we’ll review the consent form and have you sign it,” Hana said. Somehow this had become rote, something she could never have imagined.

The young woman sitting on the examination table, a comms officer named Meenu, nodded and they reviewed the form, with Hana pausing for questions as they arose.  As she did so, she felt her collar flutter slightly along the edges in the room’s ventilation.

“Thank you,” Hana said when they were finished.

She turned her attention to the waiting photosynthetic collar, which floated in a square container just larger than the collar itself. One of the other labs had designed it so that individuals could more easily  re-hydrate and store the collars in their quarters, making use of the device more accessible.

Hana placed the collar on a damp towel.

“You can touch it. I don’t know how familiar you are with them,” she told Meenu.

“One of my friends has one. We talked about it before I signed up.” She smiled. “I don’t really understand the details, about food production or oxygen, but I read everything you sent me.”

She laughed and Hana smiled. “Thank you for your trust.”

“I’m really worried about all this,” Meenu waved her hand vaguely, “not knowing what will happen. This is the smallest thing, but it makes me feel like I’m doing something. We all have to do our part, don’t we?”

“That we do,” Hana agreed.

After Meenu left, Hana picked up her tablet and scrolled through the growing list of volunteers. Then she went over to the trough to see how the next batch of collars was developing.

Over the years Hana had spent thinking about and then developing the collar, their use beyond a select few had always felt uncertain, something that, if it came to pass, would be in an indeterminate time in the future. Now that it was happening, almost in spite of her efforts, she realized how short-sighted she had been. How much more she could have done.

Her efforts now focused on the day-to-day use of the collars. She was considering user experience issues. She was thinking about the impact of long term use of the implanted hooks, how they caused irritation in some wearers. She had a lab assistant developing standards for how long each collar could be used before its outputs deteriorated too much to be useful.

And once the collars did need to be replaced, it only made sense to recycle the old ones. When she was only growing a few at a time,  there had been no particular need to consider it. But the station’s  resources were very finite. One of the other labs was working on a method for breaking the old ones down

She was excited, worried, and anxious of the future that was unfolding.

She pushed one of the collars down into the nutrient solution. It was delicate work, ensuring they grew evenly.

A notification on her tablet from Thea asked if she could drop by the other lab to take a look at the collars growing there, to see if all was going well. Thea’s plants had moved into a storage bay turned food production greenhouse and they were all hoping for fresh corn in the coming months.

***

Weeks fell away to months and before they knew it, it was closing in on a year since the loss of contact. Their lives had somehow fallen into this new normal, even if Hana regularly was overwhelmed by the sense that this was a bizarre and unlikely situation.

Hana had just sent the latest dataset to the medical team. The improvements she had been able to make in the collar were substantial. Not sufficient in themselves for the collars to be the only solution for long-term habitation of the station, but they were gradually reducing people’s need for external food sources and improving their ability to cope with lower levels of ambient oxygen.

And, working with Thea and some of the others on the agriculture team, they had developed a new version of the collar that would be more efficient, while requiring less surface area and being substantially lighter. Hana couldn’t wait to try it out.

***

Though the station was not large, and the number of inhabitants only around a hundred, its labyrinthine design meant it was not difficult to go long periods of time without seeing particular people. Or not even knowing everyone who was there, as they kept to their own team’s work areas and tended to socialize amongst those they already knew.

So it wasn’t particularly unusual that months had gone by since Hana had seen Ashley. She could have sought her out, she supposed, had she any wish to do so.

If she was being honest, if she had seen Ashley first, she probably would have turned around to avoid her.

“Hana! I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“No, that’s true.” What a ridiculous response, Hana thought.

“So many people are wearing your collars! I guess you were a lot closer to production potential than I gave you credit for.”

Hana winced at the language. “I don’t know that I would call it ‘production’ exactly, but yes, we’ve been able to expand the project quite significantly.”

“And people actually want to wear those things? Who would have thought?”

Part of Hana wondered what role Ashley had found for herself, but she wasn’t curious enough to ask and prolong the conversation.

“I’m sorry, I have an appointment,” she said and walked away.

***

It was late as Hana puttered around the lab.

All the collars that were ready had been distributed and she had started a new batch in her recently expanded trough. And there were more growing in Thea’s lab. Sixty-two per cent of the station’s residents now wore one.

That felt surreal.

Hana walked the room’s periphery, stroking a leaf here or a stem there. Pausing to run her fingers along the thin pliable willow stem. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine herself at home, holding a branch still attached to the large, spreading tree. She could feel the wind on her skin, hear the flutter of leaves against each other.

All these plants she had brought with her. This would never truly be their home, no more than it could be hers. It wasn’t a meadow or a forest, however well the lighting system simulated the sun. When her time on the station had a departure date, that hadn’t felt as important as it did now.

None of this was really what she had imagined for the project. This station nearly full of photosynthesizing humans. It had taken on a life of its own, skipped over the time she had expected to spend glorying in her work, in its unexpected novelty, the wonder of each tiny new idea.

Now, with the possibility of returning to Earth uncertain or unlikely, alone at night in the lab she found herself wondering what the point was. At best, they could keep the humans on this station—some of the humans—alive while they waited.

Waiting for what, Hana wasn’t sure. There had to be a next step, though she didn’t know what it would be or what direction it would take them in.

She stopped by the door and picked a few raspberries from the canes and popped them in her mouth.

As much as this was the work of a lifetime, as much as she took solace in what she was able to contribute, she wished nothing more than to be back home, to wiggle her toes through the blades of grass and into the soil, feel the sun’s warmth on her face, and listen to the buzz of cicadas. Very plant-like, she knew.