Seated at his desk, a desk quite close to a window, the editor of the
town paper pretty much thought that the weather matched how he felt.  It was
raining.  In these times, there was nothing too unusual about that:  Those of
the 24th century American Midwest were becoming acclimated to rain every other
day of the week. Even if the rains of the times were harmful to human skin,
Americans were becoming adjusted to them.  What choice did they have?
The rains poured and poured, the editor sulked and sulked.  All of those
files were scattered about his desk, all of those files about the latest batch of insanity
in this half of the year.  The editor had been here for just two hours into the evening,
and he was already in a soured mood due to what had come into his desk.  What,
did the world just concoct bad news to get over on him?  As did everyone else
with a decent education, the editor knew that at least the weather was not
from an evil conspiracy from nature.  Actually, the periodic and toxic rains
that now plagued Ameria--especially the American Midwest--were a result of
humanity's actions against nature.  Humanity's actions, thought the editor,
were often a reason to be in a funk.  Shuffle, shuffle went the editor as
he stopped perusing one hard copy and went over to another.  Just maybe, if
the editor kept up that sour attitude, the expression of disgust would freeze
on his face.  The terrible and toxic rains soaked as the editor sulked.
--
     Maybe it was the latest public announcement made by the U.S. Health
Department--a bureaucracy that was going strong after so many centuries.
Maybe the editor was actually upset because of what the Health Department said
about his and every American's health.  According to the health department, the
levels of toxicity in the atmosphere was such that no American should stay
out of doors for more than a handful of hours per day.  Outside of that, a
person risked dermal cancers and respitory ailments.  Also, that person would
shorten their life span; so preached the Health Department.  The editor would
have liked to scrawl the expression "duh" in obscenely-large letters over
his office copy of that declaration from the Health Department.  As things
were, most every American lived a filtered life: filtered air indoors, filtered
water with fusion-powered hydrolysis, hydroponically-grown food and news that
was just as sanitized.  (One of the editor's responsibilities was keeping the
public blissfully ignorant of news it could not handle.)  Common sense said
that going outside was bad for one's health.  Then again, hundreds of years
of medicine said that smoking anything that was tobacco or otherwise was bad
on the lungs--and people still smoke up.  All the same, the editor was sulking
though it did him no good.
     What if the Health Department said that sulking was bad for one's health,
thought the editor.  Would that be the next thing he would have to gently
filter into the papers, "Health Dept. Frowns on Sulking?"  The editor did not
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care.  He really did not.  The way this night was going, he may as well have
been at risk for some sort of illness.  The meanwhile would be a good occasion
to sulk.  At least, the "meanwhile" would be until his sanity cracked--or until
he went as psycho as those animals.  Animals, what animals was he thinking
about?
     Ah, the ANIMALS were the ones that had to make the news.  After some
whining geneticists and some high-powered ecologists made an announcement at
one of those Washington-funded brain sessions, there were some quick and
desprate moves to capture animals.  Back then, perhaps a year or so ago,
geneticists said to the high-and-mighty of Washington that they were out of
tricks up their high-tech sleeves.  For hundreds of years, geneticists were
nipping and splicing genes of most American wildlife to keep the wildlife from
dying off due to pollution.  Yes, geneticists have been slicing and dicing
genes of wildlife since soon after genetic engineering was made really practical
so many centuries ago in America.  They, the geneticists, did so with a
deadly-serious purposefulness.  But since the geneticists' efforts to make
animals pollution-resistant crashed and burned, they and some serious ecologists
requested that major specimens of wildlife in the United States be preserved
against the ravages of pollution.  For once, Congress listened.  Not only did
Congress listen, but Congress also made moves.  Congress approved funding to
make underground holding facilities to shelter animals from pollution.  It
--
was a stupid shame that some of the animals slaughtered the people responsible
for holding them.
     But that was just bloody, pollution-soaked water under the bridge now.
The editor's latest headache related to the latest item to hit his desk:  There
was a recent spate of plant-related deaths, according to the newspaper's
mainline wire service.  What is THIS, "plant-related deaths?"  Rubbing his
already grainy eyes, the editor mentally reiterated what "plant-related deaths
meant."  Obviously, it was death related to plants.  From one foolish reason
or another, some people in the American Midwest were dying due to sometimes
freakish exposure to plant life.  For probably no reason, there were five
reports of tree trunks coming loose from their roots and falling on people--killing
them.  Half a dozen people were found dead in their beds when some molds and
fungi (like mushrooms) cracked their homes' sealed windows.  Some were even
attacked by molds and fungi while they slept.  As for "sleeping," there were
perhaps twenty different cases of people slipping on grass that suddenly could
not support them.  And then, some freak conentrations of toxic waste killed
the unforunate and clumsy while they lay stunned on the grass.  There were
just two reports of inhaled rose scents caused asphyxiation.  One entire
neighborhood was smeared off of the map from being overrun by plant species.
Animals were losing sanity; plants were turning into killers; the editor felt
that he was losing his grip on good spirits.
     It was all probably a gigantic pattern, thought the editor.  First, the
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geneticists proved themselves incompetents when they could no longer engineer
pollution-resistant species.  Then, there was the whole flap about the Health
Department--the department of DUH--telling Americans that it was no longer
safe to go outside.  Animals were going crazy.  Plants were doing the same.
It was then that the editor saw God as perhaps a grumpy entity.

     The editor was wrong, though:  That neighborhood in one of his desktop-only
reports was not totally ruined.  No, it was not TOTALLY smeared.  There was
actually one survivor of the disasters that overtook that neighborhood.  Somehow,
someone had been able to survive the hazards and troubles that killed all of
her neighbors.  People were found poisoned, crushed, asphyxiated and digested
by various types of plants and fungi in that Midwestern suburb.  The D.O.D.
strike force assembled for the rescue went in with full bio-gear and rescued
Sera--though Sera seemed to be in no danger herself.  While green, leafy things
were killing off all sorts of folks on her street, Sera was actually kneeling
among them.  Sera was kneeling among an entire patch of apparently-hazardous
plant life.  The biologists on the strike team even noticed that the plants
in Sera's now-defunct neighborhood seemed to encourage Sera's presence.  Also,
the plants were reacting with motor functions to whatever Sera had done.  Sera
had survived the disasters of her neighborhood.  So it was not the heroics
of the D.O.D. strike force that had saved Sera.  It was a puzzle.  Some
--
officials in Washington did not like puzzles.
     After a handful of hours, the D.O.D. strike force had arrived at the
base.  Some security clearances were rattled to the soldiers at the front
gates--or front walls--and the armored vehicle rumbled to a central complex
several city blocks in length and width.  They drove into the complex, into
one of the garage-hangars.  Short, thin and green-eyed Sera was gently but
firmly escorted along multiple corridors of the immense complex.  In fact,
the soldiers seemed to deliberately lead Sera through detours.  As they
passed through the halls, she heard a faint hiss accompanied by the smell of
chemical cleaning agents.  "Is this base being sprayed for something?  Is it
ME?" asked Sera to the soldiers.  "Just a precaution, ma'am," responded one
of the soldiers--the sergeant--through a bio-warfare face mask.  They brought
Sera this far into the base after several hours' driving, but the delivery
was not done yet.
     Sera and her escorts, the D.O.D. strike force, eventually came to an
elevator.  It was just large enough to fit them all, but Sera still had some
worries about being in such an enclosed area.  But soon enough, the elevator
came to a subbasement lined with sealed doors.  Sera recognized them to be
vacuum-sealed doors for quarrantining organisms with potentially-biohazardous
pathogens or agents in or on them.  This time, Sera was the "organism" to be
quarrantined.  Sera and her escorts came to one door  The sergeant heading up
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the strike force keyed in some sequence on the door's numerical pad.  Then,
with a vacuum-released hiss, the door automatically opened.  "Be seated at
the single place at the table, on the left," said the sergeant as Sera was
prodded into the room with gloved hands on her back.  She sat on one side of
the room's only table; the other side of the table had several seats.  "After
you have been scanned for biohazards and sonically-decontaminated, the senator
will be with you," said the sergeant.  The sergeant turned sharply around, made
a gesture to the other soldiers, and was out of the room as the door sealed
Sera in.  "The senator?" said Sera quietly.  Then, there was a bone-tickling
vibration as the variable-frequency sonic decontam disrupted any biohazardous
agents that Sera could have been infected with since being in her neighborhood.
     After perhaps an hour, Sera heard the door hiss and open.  In strode a
pale, suited tall man that must have been the "senator;" it was.  Behind him
were two soldiers in basic uniforms--without the bio-warfare armor and such
the D.O.D. strike force wore.  The senator sat immediately opposite Sera, and
the two soldiers went to stand at both sides of the entrance.  He took some
time making himself comfortable, this senator.  Sera stared at this
expensively-attired man, analyized his swagger and crafted mannerism.  Clearly,
this man was raised and trained from youth to be a member of the American
ruling elite.  This meant that the man clearly had little regard for compromise
or care for citizens.  Sera would find this out more clearly in a moment.
--
     "So, let's get this started," began the senator.  "I'm Senator Toms, and
I'm on the senatorial sub-committee for natural resource management.  Of course,
from your education and minimal involvement with the scientific community, you
probably already know that--recluse that you are."  This angry-talking senator
seated opposite Sera already seemed to know much about the woman's behavior
and past.  The senator tilted his ear slightly as if he were listening to
something Sera could not hear.  In fact, there was a small transmitting device
fitted in Senator's ear; the senator was in communication with someone else
(or multiple otherss) while grilling Sera.  The senator continued:  "You are
Sera Arbre, twenty-seven years of age, holder of multiple post-graduate
degrees in biology and in posession of a small but secure fortune.  In your
suburban home, you live alone while writing occasionally for biology journals
and tending your garden.  Hmm, living alone?  You don't look like a lonely
girl to me, Sera...." oozed the senator as his gaze sized her up.  Sera
crossed her arms, not saying anything to encourage this obnoxious man.  "So,
Sera, what made to take up eco-terrorism?"  That put Sera into open-mouthed
shock.
     "That's right, the events that happened to your neighborhood were all
too terribly destructive to just be 'acts of nature,'" oozed the senator some
more.  "I believe you engineered the plants of your street and all of the
plants within an eigth of a mile radius to somehow detect human beings--and
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kill them."  Sera's cheeks were a flaming rouge now, anger suffusing her
shock.  "This is all UNSUBSTANTIATED speculation and based on WHAT evidence?
I had my own garden and cared for THOSE specimens alone.  The rest of the
wildlife on my street was none of my immediate business!  If you did a gene-print
analysis of those plants against my own garden plants, you would see that
the genotypes bear NONE of my trademark gene-tailoring.  Any geneticist would
be able to see that.  I want a LAWYER," said Sera as she uncrossed her arms
and made small fists at her sides.  There were twin blurs of motion in the
corner of Sera's eye.  She turned her head to the right, and saw that the
two soldiers at the door had drawn sleek sidearms--rapid-fire pellet cannons
that could either be set to fire tranquilizing rounds or set to kill.  Sera did
not want to find out if the soldiers' weapons were set to "trank" or "kill."
     "If you believe this is a hearing, you are mistaken.  There will be no
lawyers for you, outside of anyone I deem fit to consider your defense.  There
will be no jury.  Your Constitutional rights are suspended; there will not be
some silly trial.  No, Sera, this is all under martial law as far as you are
concerned.  I am going to find out if you are the one who is responsible for
those people being killed by plants and such.  If you are, you have somehow
found a quick and convenient way to convert plants to following your commands.
I will find out how you did it...before punishing you as I seem fit.  This
room contains all that there is, Sera:  judge, jury and executioner.  I'm the
--
judge and jury.  Guess who the executionars are?" said the senator, leaning back
in his seat.
      "That said, let's try out a few tests," said the senator.  As soon as
he said that, some things happened so quickly that Sera could only follow
the action instead of reacting in time.  As soon as the senator said 'tests,'
metal manacles on the ends of robotic-extending arms clapped around her ankles
and wrists--effectively holding Sera fast.  "Hold still.  The tests won't
hurt...much," calmy stated the senator.  Sera felt a slight sting in her left
wrist and an electrical charge in her right:  The robotic manicles were
hurting.  "I'll be nice and tell you what the tests will be about.  A blood
sample is being taken for bio-analysis; that's the left manacle's job.  The
other is a wave-diagnosis of your nervous system.  We're going to find out
what's on that mind of yours," said the senator.  He almost seemed to enjoy
Sera's discomfort as he sat back with arms akimbo.  Sera gritted her teeth
as the shock and the sting in her wrists continued.  In a moment, the manacles
on her wrists withdrew on their robotic stalks.  Her feet remained held to
the floor by powered manicles.
     Somewhere close by, there was a rapid analysis done of the data.  The
sample of Sera's blood was drawn through multiple meters, spectrometers and
microscopes.  Her brainwave pattern, read through a sort of static electricity
induction, was also put through anaysis.  What would have taken hours to do
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centuries ago merely took some minutes now.  With the assistance of A.I.-equipped
computers and immense databases, the analysis was complete.  The results were
downloaded into a very thin device that resembled a clipboard with an ultra-flat
monitor:  It was a paperless clipboard that scientists used.  After the results
were downloaded, the scientist had looked through them and gave a small grin.
With the clipboard under one arm, he picked up a potted plant with another.
With these in hand, Dr. Nighthorse went into the room where Sera and the senator
were.
     "Ah, so what do the results tell us, Dr. Nighthorse?" asked the senator
of the Native American ecologist that had recently entered the room.  "Put in
language you can understand, senator, Sera is physically normal save for an
increase in electrolytes in her bloodstream and..." said Dr. Nighthorse as he
stared into Sera's eyes, "a pervasive green coloration of her corneas, along
with a loss of visible pupils."  Sera's eyes were that way since the disaster
on her street.  Dr. Nighthorse continued, "Mentally, however, she exhibits
intense brainwave activity.  Her brainwaves read like something akin to a
telepath's.  Similar brainwave patterns were recorded from some specimens out
of the Kansas facility.  You know which facility I refer to, senator, the one
that had the first breakout of violence among the inmantes."  The senator
nodded.  "Why did you bring that plant, Dr. Nighthorse?  Is that a gift to
the strange-eyed girl over here?" he asked.  The biologist said, "No, senator,
--
this is just one more experiment to confirm my suspicions.  Sera, this is a
species of plant I am sure you know of.  I hear you have quite a collection
of them at home.  Look at this plant, and tell me what you can."  The biologist
placed the plant at the end of the table, out of Sera's reach.  "Whatever
happens next, I take full responsibility.  Senator, please step two meters
from the table," said the biologist.  The senator complied.
     Sera's pupil-less green gaze met the plant--a small and potted strawberry
stalk with a flower at the end.  Instantly, the plant at the end of the table
began to wriggle.  It's leaves waved a moment.  Then, the plant began to
grow and lengthen.  From where he stood, the senator saw enough to disturb
his cool demeanor.  The soldiers at the door were not sure if they were to
aim at the plant or the young woman at the table.  Meanwhile, with a
self-satisfied smile, the biologist nodded then used an electronic stencil
to write something on his paperless clipboard.  Making almost no sound other
than some rustling, the plant continued to grow.  It grew in Sera's direction.
In thirty seconds, the flower at the end of the stalk was close to Sera's
face.  Sera was unusually calm.
     "What the hell?  Nighthorse, if this is some con-game you biologists play,
you're out of here," growled the senator.  "Please, senator, calm yourself,"
said Dr. Nighthorse.  "I have just noted the first instance of human-to-plant
communication in a controlled setting.  As you know, there are a handful of
--
individuals who can communicate with each other via a sort of rudimentary
telepathy--if the conditions are right.  This is the first time anyone has
recorded an immediate and spontaneous communication between plant and animal
life.  The woman that sits at the table must be an advanced telepath.  But
she communicates with members of the plant kingdom.  It could very well be
this ability, this mental affinity plant life, that could have given Sera
her such academic acumen in her graduate studies.  Isn't that right, Sera?"
Though Dr. Nighthorse had addressed Sera directly, she was too busy smiling
at the flower that hovered inches before her nose.  "What happened also
proves that Sera was in communication with her own garden of...original plant
species when the D.O.D. bio-hazard strike force rescued Sera--if she needed
to be 'rescued' at all."

Second Half....

     The senator had recovered from his shock and began to rant theatrically.
One could almost imagine him standing in the Senate Chamber of Capitol Hill,
almost preaching for the press.  "Look, look, LOOK.  That is proof enough.
Sera is clearly an eco-terrorist!  To think that eco-terrorism had died out
centuries ago and to see this CRIMMINAL  at work right before my very eyes!
This lady can control plants IF she is a 'lady' at all.  I have seen that plant
being controlled by remote, or some other means.  To think that we had someone
here all along responsible for mass murder and terror!  She can't be human.
Sera must be some sort of monster--worse than a terrorist!"  The biologist
let  the senator blow out his temper.  Apparently, the senator's anger was
just a show--meant to affect the audience's equalibrium.  It wasn't working
in Dr. Nighthorse's case, nor was it working with the two soldiers who kept
guard at the door.  After several seconds of silence (save the rustling of the
plant), the senator gave a "harumph" and quieted himself.
     "Are you finished, senator?" calmly asked Dr. Nighthorse.  "For now, yes,"
was the senator's somewhat chagrined response.  Dr. Nighthorse made an
additional notation on his electronic clipboard before putting it down.  Then,
with steps as calm as his voice, went behind Sera and placed his hands on her
small shoulders.  "Senator, you belive Sera to be something terrible.  On one
hand, you charge her for being an eco-terrorist.  Centuries ago, the charge
may have carried weight.  But nowadays..." said the biologist with a slow
--
shake of his head. "Nowadays, next to no one cares for the health of the
enviornment.  This is an extremely over-developed era.  We human beings have
poisoned the world's ecosystems.  We have practically drained the world of food
and nutrients until hydroponic farming and genetic engineering gave us the
ability to make our own sustinence.  But that was more by necessity than choice:
The planet was too polluted for us to eat food directly from it.  Would you
believe that food was grown on REAL soil as late as the 21st century, righ here
in America?  Back then, people HAD to care for the environment and HAD to care
for what was happening to the wildlife.  At that time, there would have been viable
concern enough for what you term 'eco-terrorism.'  Nowadays, as people live
in filtered and enclosed environemnts, there is no concern for wildlife.  Sorry,
senator, but these are times without terrorism--at least eco-terrorism.
     "Also, you charge that Sera Arbe is some sort of monster.  You look at
her affects on plants and shout 'monster!'  But this young lady here," said
Dr. Nighthorse, now standing away and gesturing towards Sera, "remains just
as human as you or I.  Senator, you may not realize it, but your charge of
Sera being a 'monster' has serious ramifications.  At one time, my colleagues
in other fields--genetics research and genetic engineering--were said to be
'monsters' for altering the 'God-given' genotypes of plants and animals.  As
time went on, that changed.  People no longer call genetic researchers or
genetic engineers 'monsters.'  Or perhaps, your charge of calling Sera goes
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to a nastier and more immediate insult.  Perhaps you look at Sera's altered
eyes and believe her to be 'not-human' now simply because her eyes have taken
on a radically-different appearance.  Maybe you want to bring back the
historical practice of racial bigotry based on eye type--an exuse to harm
others."
     The senator had listened intently to Dr. Nighthorse's defense of Sera.
The senator then had to take a better look at this strange person named 'Sera.'
He walked to one end of the long table to get a better look at her face.
From where he was standing previously, the top of the strawberry plant had
obstructed his view.  He looked at this short, elven-looking 'woman.'  Still,
the senator was not ready to dump the label of 'monster' as Sera was not normal.
Sure, this captured person had the basic appearance of a human female--save
for the strange eyes.  It was the EYES, though.  Sera's 'eyes' were totally
green globes.  It looked as if someone had taken large, dark-green ping-pong
balls and placed them inside of Sera's head where eyes should be.  Those were
NOT human eyes at all.  That was because Sera probably was not human.
     Then, there was Sera's ability to control plants.  Damn, no human being
could control plants with THOUGHTS.  As he looked on, Sera tilted her head
to the side.  Matching her movements, the strawberry plant's stalk adjusted
itself as so the top of the plant hovered inches before Sera's eyes.  Were
they COMMUNICATING?  The senator then ruminated further, what is going on
--
behind those mutant eyes of hers?  Whatever was going on, the senator did not
like it.  He especially did not like the smile on her face.  It was somewhat
frightening.  MONSTERS frighten people.  Monsters, like this thing here, had
strange abilities.  Sera is a monster.
     "Dr. Nighthorse, Sera is not normal.  You have to at least agree with me
on that," said the senator.  "Look, even telepaths are not considered normal
people.  But this is the first time a person has communicated with plants.
Doctor, can ANYONE communicate with such mindless things as plants?  Perhaps
that 'thing' that looks like a human female has done something to the plants
with her mind."  Dr. Nighthorse knew that he had to tread carefully now.  It
was clear that the senator was losing rational thought.  As long as the
senator was reasonably rational, there was hope in this situation.  Calm was
the key, hopefully.
     "I agree with you on Sera not being 'normal,'" said the biologist.  "Then
again, what is 'normal?'  Is being 'normal' something that means having an
average intelligence, being six feet in height and not 'fat' or 'skiny?'  With genetic
engineering, everyone in America is 'normal.'  But whenever anyone deviates
even slightly from being 'normal,' they are at the end of every terrible joke
their peers can throw at them.  Everyone has to have the same general appearance
and have the same type of behavior, or they are outcasts," stated the biologist.
"No! Be serious, senator!  Just because Sera is different, it does not make
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her an outcast.  Sera is different, just as so many people are different from
what is 'normal.'"  After the biologist put this out, the senator's face
soured in a sort of disgust.  "I will be back.  Meanwhile, you can continue
to study that specimen," said the senator with a voice full of distaste.
He left the room, and the air-tight door closed itself with that hissing sound.
The soldiers remained.
     After the senator stomped his way out of the room, Dr. Nighthorse picked
up the electronic clipboard.  He then sat opposite Sera, writing stencil in
hand.  "I realized that your new friend must have quite a bit to say to you,"
said the biologist in referring to the strawberry plant. "But we also have
business to deal with here."  Sera's face then turned to the pot the plant's
roots were housed within.  Somewhat silently, the strawberry plant's stalk
coiled and removed itself from Sera's proximity.  In several seconds, the
strawberry plant had retracted itself to it's pot at the far end of the table.
"Sorry, doctor, but this ability with plants feels new to me."  Sera's smile
then dimmed a bit.  "What is there to talk about now?"
     Dr. Nighthorse began a sort of interview.  "Sera, let us talk as biologists,
not 'biologist to subject.'  You hold some graduate school degrees in botany,
correct?"  Sera nodded.  "Then you must be quite familiar with 'Gaia theory,'
the old theory that claims the Earth to be a self-contained organism.  Likewise,
the theory says that the Earth has all of the matching and internal controls
--
of an organism...."  Sera cut off Dr. Nighthorse, "...As well as an immune
system.  Dr. Nighthorse, I can see where you go with this.  Ha, I said 'see.'
I wish I could tell you what I can see now through my new eyes.  Anyway,
Gaia theory has included discussion and conception of Earth to be a complete
organism that is complete enough to have its own immune system.  You may have
taken note of how the plant species of my hometown had taken to harming
people."  Dr. Nighthorse nodded, twice.  "That is EXACTLY it.  The organisms
of your street seemed to be behaving in a coordinate manner, like white blood
cells being generated and dispersed throughout the bloodstream of a mammal.
Go on."  Sera did.  "You must have been taking note of exactly how the plant
species have specifically acted in a violent manner.  One could almost say
that the plants were behaving as if in vengeance against human beings.  To use
your analogy, human beings could be seen as bacteria.  With its immune system,
it could be that Earth has identified us as a foreign agent.  Likewise, it
could well be that human beings are under attack--by the planet.  Am I right
so far in assessing your pet theory so far, Dr. Nighthorse?"
     "You have it exactly," stated Dr. Nighthorse.  "I imagine the plants and
various fungi of your neighborhood having taken a sort of environmental cue from
the collective, the ecosystem.  Perhaps there were pheromones carried in the
rains?  Or maybe, the plants and fungi had more local control?  Whatever the cause,
various organisms had overtaken your neighborhood.  Within hours, people were
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suddenly under siege by various species of plants and fungi.  People were
crushed, killed and conquered by mauraders they had never seen before.  Somehow,
the people of your hometown could not have expected anything at all--despite
their participation in maurading of their own.  We are all mauraders of
sorts of against nature:  We still pillage nature for resources and soil the
land with pollution.  We may deserve this."
     He stopped for a moment, then took on a different tone of voice.  "Let
me tell you something, miss.  Not too long ago, I was stationed along with
several others at a holding facility.  It was one of those underground and
well-secured places where we were to preverse multiple animal species from
pollutants.  I was with an entire team of experienced and highly-qualified
biologists.  Many of those names, I am sure, would surprise you.  Anyway,
it was to be a standard and calm operation.  That is not how the operation
ended.
     "Not twenty four hours after we had our animals in captivity, there was
trouble.  The animals were beginning to break out of the holding rooms, the
rooms we had configured to suit each animal species.  I saw to the conditioning
of the artificial environments myself.  But the animals did not like where
they were.  They broke out of their rooms, somehow.  Once out of their holding
rooms, the animals went on a rampage.  It was murderous, a sanguine mess.
Technicians and a few biologists were killed outright.  While most of the
--
animals remained on one floor, the chimps we had were set on tracking down
the human survivors.  We, the survivors, only managed to escape after some
sort of special strike team from the Department of Defense managed to get us
out with guns blazing.  It was a real battle between us and the animals.
     "I survived, Sera.  I survived along with a handful of other biologists,
other human being, after the animal decided to kill us all.  You are a
survivor as well.  However, I do know that your situation was not as desprate
as my own had been at that time.  And now, I can see why you survived, Sera.
Somehow, you were chosen to survive.  According to the debriefing from the
D.O.D. strike team, you were absolutely surrounded by mutated plant species
that had mobility and toxins enough to kill you.  But they didn't.  In fact,
they chose to communicate with you.  Why, Sera?  Why  is that?  Do you have
an answer as to why plants have chosen to communicate with you?"  Dr. Nighthorse
went silent, waiting for an answer of any sort.
     "I believe myself important now," said Sera.  "After that day, the day
when so many people died, I found myself sitting in my garden.  I was in a
daze.  Then, I saw plants differently.  They were communicating with me.  I
can't say they were 'talking.'  Talking is not the word at all.  Instead, their
ideas were going into my mind as if the plants were talking.  It was a
language, Dr. Nighthorse, a language cohesive enough for me to process.  It
was understandable, so long as I was in sight of the plants.  They, the plants
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wanted to talk to me.  The plants wanted me to be a messenger of sorts, something
akin to an ambassador."  Sera then turned her head to face the plant.  The
strawberry plant wavered a bit at Sera's strange gaze.  "Yes, the plant agrees
that to be an agreeably equivalent term.  I am a sort of ambassador for the
plants.  But as ambassador, it is only within my power to warn people off
from harming the environment.  To think, this 'ambassador' wanted to stay out
of politics and stay at home."
     Dr. Nighthorse seemed somewhat sympathetic just then.  "At the moment,
you must seem helplessly lost in your new sense of responsibility.  Most every
ecologist who holds a degree beyond the graduate level feels the same way.
When put to work at actual, front-line research for the National Science
Foundation on ecology so many years ago, it was an overwhelming responsibility
for me--as well as for so many others of my graduating class."  Ser nodded
at this assessment.  "You must have felt overwhelmed when the plants began
to communicate with you, Sera, demanding that you take up a role in this trouble
with plants."  Sera then told Dr. Nighthorse, "Oh, but it wasn't just plants
that were in this trouble."
     Sera rubbed the place on her wrist where the robotic manacle had taken
a blood sample.  Both of her wrists were somewhat chaffed a bit.  Sera's face
being tilted down towards her wrists was the only way that Dr. Nighthorse
could tell were Sera's bizarre and pupil-less eyes were focused.  "Other
--
wildlife is involved as well.  Plants, animals, fingi were all just acting
collectively in the interest of one party.  They were all acting for the sake
of some entity behind all of this.  The plants tell me that they were acting
for the sake of Gaia."
     Dr. Nighthorse took some more notes.  "Of course!  To think, Gaia theory
was just 'theory' for all of these centuries.  Imagine, so many people said
that the intricate chemical processes throughout each and every ecosystem on
the planet are part of a larger system.  It is as if the entire biosphere acts
as a whole.  It all seems too well-coordinated to be just some random and
haphazard organization.  Now, you say that there is an 'entity' behind all
of this?  You say that there is a sort of sentience responsible for all of
these processes--including the action against human beings by plants AND
animals?"  Sera faced Dr. Nighthorse, Sera's blank green eyes seeming to hold
him to the spot.  "That is correct in a way, doctor.  But it is not just a
solitary sentience that rules all of the biosphere on this planet.  It is
more like the sum total of all of the multicellular organisms acting as a
collective and heirarchy.  Gaia, as an entity, 'thinks' and acts through the
collective of organisms on Earth.  And just maybe, I am now a person who can
actually listen in Gaia's ideas and interests."
     Dr. Nighthorse continued to take notes.  In the periphery of his vision,
he noticed that the strawberry plant on the table was waving slightly.
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However, there was no movement of wind in the room; the strawberry plant was
still acting under its own mobility.  The strawberry plant's movements were
almost human.  It seemed to be swaying pleasantly while Sera spoke and waxed
about this 'Gaia' entity.  Indeed, Gaia was now more than just a theory.
     Some things happened quite quickly after that.  There was a hissing
sound from the side of the room.  The senator had come back with a sheet of
typewritten paper.  As soon as he did, the robotic manacles had come out of
the floor and fastened on Sera's thin wrists.  "What the...?" exclaimed Sera
when the manacles mounted on robotic stalks had held her to her seat.  The
strawberry plant on the table began to extend itself to Sera.  "Soldier, smash
that plant!"  One of the soldiers at the doorway took the potted plant and
smashed it on the room's solid floor.  Sera let out a small gasp as one of
the manacles injected a fast-acting tranquilizer.  Her head lolled backwards.
     The strawberry plant lay wriggling on the floor.  With its roots out of
soil, it began to make its way towards the senator.  "I said, destroy that
plant!" shouted the senator.  The soldier who smashed the pot the plant was
within then stomped on the wriggling strawberry stalk--several times.  It was
soom just a mash of green foilage.  "What is this?  Senator, since when does
a member of Congress have power over the Armed Forces?" asked Dr. Nighthorse,
a bit loudly.  "This is unconstitutional!  What about the division of powers
aspect of our federal government?"  The two soldiers in the room both went
--
rigid, coming close to standing at attention.
     "Well, DOCTOR, the President still does retain control over the Armed
Forces--even hundreds of years after the founding of the United States.
However, he has appointed me proxy in this affair.  Moments ago, I was in
direct communication with the Commander in Chief himself.  And it was then
that he had this e-signed order given directly to me and everyone else involved
in this operation--including YOU, Dr. Nighthorse.  Soldiers, get the girl."
The two soldiers supported Sera by her thin shoulders.  The robotic manacles
withdrew, and they lifted the small woman from her seat.  Her eyes were closed.
     "Take her to the stasis room," ordered the senator while holding up
the memo with the president's notarized e-signature at the bottom.  "She is
to be held in suspended animation indefinitely, order effective immediately."
The soldiers nodded, then carried Sera out of the room.  Dr. Nighthorse stood
with clipboard in hand.  "Senator, this was not a good idea.  I was just
beginning to get the best of information out of Sera.  How can we get informaiton
from her now, while she's in suspended animation?"  The senator then began to
speak too calmly, perhaps with heavy emotion just inches below the surface.
"You would want to keep an eco-terrorist, a MONSTER, up and around?  Really,
what type of information can you get out of a monster?  You saw what she was
able to do with plants.  And you saw how that strawberry plant reacted to Sera
being sedated.  Imagine what that Sera-thing would do in a room full of plants,
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or out in the open?"
     "Senator, Sera is just able to communicate with plants--nothing more.
That strawberry plant was acting autonomously:  Sera did not order the plant
to act in any way.  That the strawberry plant had any sort of mobility at
all was not Sera' fault.  Do you realize that you are now man-handling the
ambassador--probably the only ambassador--for all of Earth's wildlife?  Sera,
senator, is an ambassador from Gaia."  The senator had a smirk, and his voice
reflected that.  "What's this 'Gaia' thing you're talking about, doctor?  And
since when does wildlife have a government, let alone an ambassador?  This
business is ridiculous."  "As ridiculous as plants developing mobility without
gene-splicing and deciding to kill an entire block of human beings?" asked
Dr. Nighthorse rhetorically.  "No, as ridiculous as some crazy science fiction
tale concocted by someone who spends too much time around it," said the senator.
"Anyway, your team can now study that mutant girl-thing at your liesure,"
finished the senator.  Dr. Nighthorse sighed, then went to oversee the
processes that would connect Sera to the various nutrition, stimulation and
other aspects of suspended animation.  But before leaving the room, Dr. Nighthorse
spoke aloud and addressed the senator without turning to face him.  "She is
more human than perhaps you or I, senator, strange abilities or no."  Then,
Dr. Nighthorse left the room.  The senator took a look at the twitching
strawberry plant on the ground, then quickly left the room as well.