Title: Plums
Aug. 8th, 2024 10:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
swirlsofpurpleXtrzza increases the zoom on her contact lenses, but that doesn’t change what’s happening in the incubation chamber: nothing.
“Have you tried using arti-soil?”
She startles. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
Zorta shrugs, doodling on some scrap paper. They both know Xtrzza won’t kick her out.
“And artificial soil is okay for gardening, but I’m trying to bring a long-dead fruit back to life.” Xtrzza measures out another two milligrams of grow-sand, carefully adding it to the chamber.
“Well, it looks like your plooms aren’t going to happen any time soon. You should take a rest.”
“Plums. They were called plums.”
“When was the last time you slept?”
“I’ll stop when my contacts need to recharge.”
*
Xtrzza wakes under a soft blanket, with a bowl of her favourite soup in front of her. The warmth inside her sings at the signs of Zorta’s care. She blinks when she sees her friend. “Did you stay here all night?”
“Is that weird?”
She walks up to Zorta, and cups her cheek with her fingers. “We’ve been lingering here so long.”
Zorta chuckles, eyes alight. “Yes. I wondered if you would wake the dead first.”
Xtrzza leans forward, pressing their lips together.
*
She walks into her new lab, Zorta holding her hand firmly. It’s much smaller than her old lab. The designation change due to the lack of progress. Everyone kept looking at her with pity. Zorta didn’t.
“Thank you.”
“I’m just standing here.”
“This will work. I can still do the work.”
*
Xtrzza fiddles idly with the bed’s temp control. It’s one of those too-hot, but too-cold days.
Zorta sits up. “You’re thinking about your plooms again.”
“Sorry.”
“Tell me. I want to know your thoughts.”
“It would be easier if I could grow a tree.”
“So grow a tree.”
“It would take too much time. And they’re already preparing to give up on the project.”
“Grow a tree anyway.”
*
It’s almost like starting from scratch. She spends weeks researching different bio-tech sands. She grows trees, or rather, small aborted twig things.
“Spooky little corpses,” Zorta says when Xtrzza moves the failed experiment into their newly shared home.
“I find the paintings worth a king’s ransom hanging on the walls much scarier.”
“Pish. These are just my doodles. They are worth nothing.”
She raises an eyebrow. “How much did your last piece sell for again?”
*
They briefly consider having the wedding beside the tree: almost as tall as them now. But decide it will distract too much. Everyone is fascinated by this thing she’s created. She has all the acclaim that comes with such a success. They’ve also given her big lab back, which is frankly more important.
*
The tree bears no fruit.
The baby is a tiny scrunched up thing.
“We should call her Rose,” Zorta says.
“Rose?”
“It’s a flower that used to grow in the time of your plums. People often named their children after it.”
“That sounds wonderful. Hello Rose.”
*
The tree dies.
They take away the lab.
Rose moves so fast. How can someone so small get from one end of the room to the other in a blink. Maybe this will be her life now, looking after this amazing little girl.
But the call is relentless. “I want to build my own lab, here.”
Zorta sighs. “Za, I don’t like seeing you disappointed.”
“I need to do this.”
*
The second tree is fruitless. And so is the third.
Rose sits and draws while Xtrzza works and it reminds her of those early days with Zorta. She wonders if the girl will have her mother’s passion or if it will be only a childhood thing. She thinks the talent is there, bias or no.
*
“You need to slow down.”
“What?”
“I need you. Rose needs you. You’ve missed every one of her plays this year.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just at a crucial point.”
“No. It’s always been like this.”
“And you used to believe in me.”
“I do believe in you. I just don’t believe in what you’re doing. No one does. You’re not working in a lab, you’re working in a fancy shed. And our daughter has nowhere to run because there are trees everywhere.”
She stares, tears stinging her eyes. This has clearly been building for a while. She’s at a loss. “I’ll be in my shed.”
“Za…”
*
The sixth tree grows things which are, supposedly, fruit. They’re inedible grey-blue spheres.
“I can’t do this anymore. I’m leaving.”
She stares at her wife, knowing she should say she’ll change, knowing it would be lie. She’s so tired. “Okay.”
“I’m taking Rose with me.”
She wants to fight. Instead she says, “Okay.”
*
A lab half a continent away is successfully growing cherries.
Xtrzza checks herself into a mental health facility. She spends too many hours talking about her drive, all of the sacrifices her parents made for her, all of the need to achieve, to succeed.
She rests. She heals.
She paints what she imagines a bowl of plums would look like, and sends it to Zorta.
*
Zorta comes to visit. They talk as friends. And watch Rose play.
“It’s done. There’s no more to do. The race is over.”
“Someone made plums?”
“No, cherries.”
“I heard about the cherries. They’re not plums.”
“Now that the methodology exists, someone will make plums soon enough.”
“And after all this, you have no interest in that someone being you?”
“I’m not needed.”
“Oh, so just because it’s not impossible anymore, you don’t want to try?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Go make plums!”
*
She bites into the plum. The juice runs down over her hands and wrists and lips. The burst of flavour is wild: strong and sweet, and soft on her tongue. A true forbidden fruit, too wondrous to survive.
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Date: 2024-08-11 06:47 am (UTC)Thank you, glad you liked it :)