Sylvia Chapter 13 (WIP)
"So the promenade is the mall for grandparents." Sylvia looked around, thinking of the modern opinion of old people and surprised to see a bright, happy place full of grey-haired people exercise walking, strolling and chatting, window shopping, or sitting on benches.
"Pretty much." Oma looked around, blue eyes twinkling in the human avatar that she was wearing. "Not that any of these people have gotten a chance to interact with their children's children the way your grandfather and I interact with you. Authorities forbid that they should infect the future with their outdated ideas."
"I'm really glad your sarcasm isn't aimed at me, Oma." Sylvia peeked up at her, smiling faintly.
Oma squeezed her shoulder. "I don't think you'll ever need to be afraid of that. I can't remember a time I've used it on your grandfather. But then his best friends usually beat me to it."
"His best friends?" Sylvia's eyes went round. "They were sarcastic to him?"
"Only if they thought he needed it. And the musician had a wise crack for everyone. Oh, look. This shop has little live plants. Do you know the names of any of these?"
Sylvia turned to look through the shop window they'd stopped next to, one part of her mind still processing the fact that Grandfather had hung out with sarcastic people who made wise cracks even as another part marveled at shops where you could actually pick something up and buy it without having to wait afterward for it to be posted or delivered to you. "No, I don't. But they're pretty, aren't they?"
"Let's go in and look at them more closely." Oma turned toward the door.
"Alright." Sylvia followed, and then stopped short with her mouth open in surprise as she looked around. The shop didn't just have a few little plants in the window, plants and things to care for plants was all that it sold. "Ohhhhh! Oma! Look at all of them!"
"Please don't poke anything," requested a quiet male voice. "Some of the plants are delicate, that one snaps, and this one carries a few volts."
Sylvia looked up and was surprised to see a young man who looked to be in his late teens or early twenties, with brown hair, Occidental eyes with warm greenish brown irises, and golden tan skin. "I'm familiar with plants. Do you work here?"
"I do." He smiled. "I'm Arther, and my family owns the shop. Is there anything you'd like me to help you find?"
"Well," she said slowly, peeking over her shoulder to make sure that Oma was right there with her before turning back and looking up at him again. "We came in to find out about the little plants in the window, but now I'm curious about this plant that you mentioned. Is this electric cactus?"
"It is." He nodded and carefully picked up the large clear globe that held the solid little lump of leafless greenery. "Grown here on this world, and not wild collected."
"It looks different from the images I've seen." Sylvia forgot shyness as her curiosity surged. "Have people bred cultivars of it?"
"The ones grown from the seed collected from domesticated plants seem to look like this," said Arther, frowning slightly at the inhabitant of the globe. "Or at least every one from the two batches of seed we've gotten have."
"You managed to get them to seed?" Her mouth dropped open with surprise. "The files I accessed said that they'd never reproduced in captivity."
"Heh. Yeah. I guess I forgot to submit updates for those." Arther rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "School is eating my brain."
"What institution are you attending?" asked Oma, looking up from the explanatory holo she'd been flicking through.
"I'm going into law enforcement." Arther set the electric cactus down. "I want to help with the day to day stuff."
"One of my cousins is going into law enforcement." Sylvia watched static play over the cactus' spikes and wondered again how much fun it would be to set up a little generator in the atrium so that a plant like this could run the light fountain.
"Really? What's his name? I might know him."
"Oh... um..." Sylvia blushed and looked up at Oma. "Probably not. I don't think he's started yet."
"Your grandfather will know. We can ask him when we go home." Oma held up a pretty pot containing a beautiful little jewel of a succulent. "Could you please tell me if this plant would be able to grow in an atrium specialized for the growing of apples, ivy, chamomile, and creeping thyme?"
Arther looked from the woman to the girl, but then smiled and nodded. "You'd just have to make sure to find it a spot in the lattice where it wouldn't get stepped on or buried in leaves. But they love those kinds of deciduous conditions. It makes them sing in the morning when the lights first come on."
"Sing?" Sylvia startled and turned her full attention onto the little blue plant. "What sort of singing?"
"Something like the crystals in the native memorial gardens do, only it's softer and due to air leaving through the plant's pores as they gear up to start making chlorophyll." Arther led them over to the window and picked up two other tiny plants- one splashed with dark fuchsia and lemon yellow, and the other bearing zebra-like dark green stripes on a light green background. "This striped one whistles with a different tone than the blue one, and this bright coloured one makes little popping sounds that can sometimes sound like kisses when older plants do it."
Sylvia was delighted. "Grandfather would love them, Oma."
"Let's buy them, then." The elderly woman smiled. "The pots are very pretty too, it will almost be a pity to move them to the atrium lattice."
"Oh, Grandfather will find a new use for the pots." Sylvia took the little striped plant and cradled it in her hands, trying to peep beneath the artificial moss surface that surrounded it. "Are they in substrate?"
"Yes, clear glass pellets. Their rootballs tend to only be about as large as they are, and don't spread out much," said Arther, his expression showing his enjoyment of having a fellow plant lover to talk to.
"Are there files about them on the infonet?" Sylvia gently touched the smooth skin of the plant in her hands.
"There should be. But I can give you a book about them as part of the sale. Do you want me to package these three for you?"
"Yes, please." She surrendered the one she was holding, then watched as Oma did the same before a splash of colour caught her eye. "Aquatic Heart Shield."
"Hmm?" Oma followed her gaze and gave a little exclamation of wonder. "It has leaves shaped like hearts."
"Yes." Arther grinned. "The preserved leaves are popular Heart Day gifts. But most people who come in don't have room for a full plant. As you can see, they get pretty big."
Oma walked over and touched one of the large, beautifully patterned heart shapes, then tilted her head to examine the entire huge plant that sprawled cheerfully over the edges of its tank of water. "I think I've seen the leaves displayed on walls. But I assumed that they were some sort of artwork."
"Well, they are," said Arther. "They just aren't made by any mortal, sentient being."
"They like more tropical conditions, so they wouldn't be able to grow in the atrium," said Sylvia, walking around the plant and marveling at the size of those lovely hearts and at the intricate patterns on them. Then she stopped with a little gasp. "They say 'I <3 U'! Some of them, anyway. Look, Oma!"
"Is that natural?" Oma walked to stand by her granddaughter and study the leaves more closely.
"It is." Arther chuckled. "Some people have even tried breeding for it, but it's not a gene you can pinpoint."
"How much does it cost?" Oma's smile looked so thoughtful and secretive that Sylvia realized what she was thinking of and clapped hands over blushing cheeks.
"This one isn't for sale," said Arther, regretful of disappointing them. "They're just too hard to transport without them going into shock at the move. But we have a couple corm-tubers."
"What are corm-tubers?" asked Oma.
"Big things shaped like bulbs, but solid like a tuber," explained Sylvia as Arther hurried to set the three little singing plants on the workstation behind the sales counter.
"Very big," he said, coming back to display a piece of vegetable that was as big as his head. "This one will make a plant bigger than our display, but it's the smallest dormant one that I have on hand right now."
Oma took it carefully, her arms tensed just slightly at the weight. "Do they make good house pets if there's room for them?"
"Oh yes. If you equip their tank with a light forcefield dome to hold in some extra humidity, and stick a freshwater pump clam in the substrate with them they won't need any other care than a daily dose of food for the clam and maybe a top up on their water if you don't set up an automatic system for it."
"What about the decay of the leaves that might touch the water?" Oma turned the corm-tuber over in her hands, looking very interested.
"The clam filters out all impurities," said Sylvia. "Hannah and Esther's parents use them on their farms to keep the water in the growing trays clean."
Oma smiled that happy, plotting smile again, cradling the corm-tuber gently. "Do you think your grandfather would like this plant, Sylvia?"
"Yes." She smiled too, eyes shining and cheeks pink. "He'd love it, because it came from you. And he'd take good care of it, too."
Oma chuckled, the sound pleased and tender, then turned back to Arther, who was looking at her with a surprised and quizzical expression. "We'll take this too. Do you have a proper tank with a forcefield emitter and water system?"
"We... do. Yes, yes, we do." Arther shook himself and grinned widely, the expression happy and excited. "We have a couple, actually. Would you like a clear one, or this cobalt blue?"
"Oh, the blue one is pretty," said Oma, walking over to look. "But it's too small. I want this plant to reach its maximum potential."
"Er. You realize that that plant could easily take on a ten foot spread, and be about five foot tall?" Arther paused uncertainly.
"We have room." Oma smiled.
"Oh. Right. Of course you do." He smiled back. "We'll have to order a tank that size, though."
"So it will be posted?" Sylvia perked, her hand going to her wrist computer in readiness of sending the family's teleportal posting code.
"Yes. I think we probably need a couple weeks to get it made." Arther glanced up and to the side as he calculated. "You want the blue, and the decorative modeling?"
"Yes, yes I do," said Grandmother serenely, her satisfaction with the gift growing.
"Alright. That will cost..." Arther named off a very fair price for the amount of work and material involved.
"Add it to our order." Sylvia smiled. "Can we bring the corm-tuber home today? It will make the gift even more exciting for Grandfather if he has a part of it already."
"Of course you can. It won't be too heavy for you?" Arther paused and looked from one to the other with concern.
"We have an antigrav shopping disk if it gets heavy." Sylvia held up the little blue and silver device, which was hanging from her belt by its lead strap.
"Okay, good." He smiled again, then glanced around. "...Is there anything else you'd like?"
Sylvia took another, more careful look around. "I'd like to come back here again on another day, just to make sure I can see all the plants."
Then she stepped over to look at some other plants with heart shaped leaves, these solid green and about as large as the palm of her hand. "Where are these violets from?"
Arther grinned. "Earth."
"What?" She looked up with surprise. "But there aren't any violets on the heritage lists."
"That's because we just found them, sealed in cold pour resin in a pendant that came over with its owner," said Arther. "Those six and six more are all there are on the planet yet. One of the original three seeds was dead. One grew the mother of these Canada Violets, and the other was for a kind of viola called 'Johnny Jump-up'."
"The little tri-coloured ones that were such a popular thing to copy in jewelery art two generations ago?" Sylvia studied the plants around the bed of violets, and then gently picked up a growing pick that contained a plant with tiny leaves that somehow managed to look very determined and busy. "This is one of them, isn't it?"
"Yes." His hands came out, protective and ready to rescue, but Sylvia held the pick knowledgeably as she gave the little plant a wistful look.
"If there are only that many than these won't be for sale, I guess." She touched a leaf and then gently set the pick back in its place in the lattice of the bed.
"No," said Arther regretfully. "They're here for people to see what some of the flowers of Earth looked like. But hopefully some day we'll have enough to share. It happened with the chamomile and creeping thyme, and the natives had to clone those from tissue found in a tea bag that wound up being brought over in someone's pocket."
Sylvia nodded, her gaze shifting to the plants beside the leafy refugees of Earth. "Are these other violets for sale? My grandfather said that he'd like violets for the quiet corners of the atrium."
"They are, and we have seed, too." Arther settled back. "Did he say what colour he wanted?"
She chuckled. "Grandfather doesn't really worry about colour. He just likes making the atrium look pretty and as natural as possible."
"Does he like scents?" Arther turned his head to look at a display of seed pellets.
"Yes." Sylvia perked. "Do you have Yancy violets?"
"I do." He picked up one of the compressed bits of organic matter. "This is a mixed colour blend that stays mixed pretty well over the years instead of the yellow, orange, and whites all dying out and leaving only the purple ones. They're not a hybrid or a GMO, though. Those are the colours they came in back on Syndr five."
"Oh. The real Yancy violets." Sylvia was delighted.
"Yup." Arther grinned, then took down another seed pellet. "You don't have any scatter poppies yet?"
"On, no. We don't. We didn't know where to get them." Sylvia took it and studied the writing on the package with interest. "This is the variety that doesn't try to take over the world."
"Yeah, we don't sell anything invasive here. Only the good stuff." Arther turned his head to check on Oma and saw her standing over to one side and gazing down at the corm-tuber as she thought of other things.
"And only organics?" Sylvia scanned the entire seed display, reading all the names to herself.
"Oh no. We're here to preserve rare plants, so we have two native species too." Arther looked back to the girl. "Broadleaf isn't very pretty though, and it would get bigger than your apple trees."
Sylvia nodded, her mind bringing up an image of the big cyberplant that grew in the few patches of the planet that weren't built up and which was used as an accent in some native homes, then switched to a tiny cousin, nearly extinct cousin of those stately cyberflora that she had longed to add to the atrium since the day she'd first found out about them. "But do you have nanoviolets?"
"Right here." He went to a shelf a short distance away and took down a small tray. "Silver, copper, and purple. They'd like to hang out with your atrium collection."
"Ohhh." Sylvia reached to touch a tiny metallic blossom and watched small leaf tendrils uncurl to touch her before curling again peacefully once the little cybernetic life form registered that she wasn't a threat to be pushed away. "We have a piece of pitted metal they can live on. Is this tray a full colony?"
"Yes. The perfect number to keep them from going migratory. Do you know how to get them settled in?" Arther poked at a plantlet with gleaming blossoms and was poked in return as it followed its programming and tried to discourage the behavior.
"Smear the rock with a light coating of rust and sweet oil, then set the tray on it and leave them alone for a day or so." She grinned as a little purple flower opened with a barely audible pop. "Ohh, they're so pretty! Grandfather is going to love all these flowers."
Arther chuckled as he turned to set the colony of nanoviolets on the table beside the singing plants and the seed pellets. "I better post these guys to you, though. We don't want them getting scared."
"True." Sylvia hugged herself absently, and then checked on Oma, only to see that lady looking at her quizzically.
"Don't you like plants yourself, Sylvia?"
She blinked. "Of course I do. They're so fascinating."
"But then why don't you have any pet ones in your bedroom?" asked Oma. "It would be pleasant scenery, and it would also be healthful for you."
"I... never thought of it," admitted Sylvia sheepishly.
"Would you like to have plants in your room?" Oma looked around.
"Yes, I would. Will you pick one for me, Oma? One that can sit on my desk." She smiled hopefully, her eyes dancing with anticipation.
"Certainly I will." Oma paused in her perusal of the surrounding shelves and displays to study a cheerful little rosette of a plant with neat leaves that was growing in a clear, rounded bowl of largish pebbles in assorted muted colours. "Do you like plush leaves?"
"Plush...?" Sylvia spotted the plant, and her eyes widened at sight of its large yellow trumpet flowers and the fuzzy blue roots that trailed around the inside of the bowl and hung over the edge of it slightly in places. "Ohhh, what is that?"
Arther looked up from packaging the nanoviolets and grinned. "Are you looking at the blueroot?"
"It has blue roots," said Oma, chuckling. "What sort of care does it need?"
"A misting and about five hours of light from a standard living bulb every day. They're canyon plants that grow in piles of sterile rock scree in their native habitat." Arther turned his attention back to the packaging. "They're pretty popular because of how easy care they are. I have kits so that you don't need to manually do the misting, too."
"I can mist it." Sylvia shook her head, thinking that needing that sort of thing automatized was rather silly. "But maybe we should get a light stand for the bowl. I don't always spend a lot of time in my room."
"Right here." Arther pointed to the display, then held out his secure trading computer. "Give me your posting code?"
"Alright." Sylvia turned her attention to her wrist and carefully pressed the right buttons to make it send the code.
"Got it." Arther grinned as the STC beeped, then turned and fed the code to the delivery mecha that stood beside the work station. "And I'll need a mail code so that I can call and let you know when the Heart Shield tank's ready, too."
Sylvia nodded and recited hers as she put her wrist computer back to sleep and then carefully took the blueroot bowl down from the shelf, her arms tensing against the weight of its stony substrate. "It's so pretty. Wait, what's this plant in the jar, Arther?"
"Big or little?" He didn't look up.
"It's about the same size as the blueroot plant. The lid of the jar is green, and there's no liquid in the jar." Sylvia noticed a second jar as she was speaking, this one containing several small floating plants and a grumpy looking little green fish.
"Wall creeper. If you like blueroot you might like that one too. It sticks onto walls without damaging them, and if you aim a light at a certain spot on the wall it moves over to the spot and stays there. Little orange daisy flowers with green centers, but they don't happen very often. It's mostly grown for the leaves and the mobility. At least, that's what we grow it for." Arther grinned as he finished packaging the nanoviolets. "Do you want the seeds in with the cyberflowers or with the singing plants?"
"Put them with the nanoviolets please," said Oma as she watched Sylvia carefully acquire a jar of wall creeper to go with the bowl of blueroot.
"We have to come back here again someday." The thirteen year old looked up with a grin.
"Your friends might enjoy this shop too." Oma tucked the corm-tuber into the crook of one arm and reached to be sure that Sylvia had a secure grip on her load.
"I think they would." Sylvia looked up. "Actually, I think they might like the whole promenade better than the mall. It's nice and quiet and pretty. What I've heard of the mall doesn't sound interesting except for the store that sells cyberpets."
"Cyberpets?" Arther paused to take a spent blossom off a plant he was passing. "Three doors down. Millie's got lightfish tanks and things for pet mechadrones to play with too."
Sylvia blinked and then looked up at Oma excitedly.
"Well, I know where we're going next." Oma chuckled.
"Pretty much." Oma looked around, blue eyes twinkling in the human avatar that she was wearing. "Not that any of these people have gotten a chance to interact with their children's children the way your grandfather and I interact with you. Authorities forbid that they should infect the future with their outdated ideas."
"I'm really glad your sarcasm isn't aimed at me, Oma." Sylvia peeked up at her, smiling faintly.
Oma squeezed her shoulder. "I don't think you'll ever need to be afraid of that. I can't remember a time I've used it on your grandfather. But then his best friends usually beat me to it."
"His best friends?" Sylvia's eyes went round. "They were sarcastic to him?"
"Only if they thought he needed it. And the musician had a wise crack for everyone. Oh, look. This shop has little live plants. Do you know the names of any of these?"
Sylvia turned to look through the shop window they'd stopped next to, one part of her mind still processing the fact that Grandfather had hung out with sarcastic people who made wise cracks even as another part marveled at shops where you could actually pick something up and buy it without having to wait afterward for it to be posted or delivered to you. "No, I don't. But they're pretty, aren't they?"
"Let's go in and look at them more closely." Oma turned toward the door.
"Alright." Sylvia followed, and then stopped short with her mouth open in surprise as she looked around. The shop didn't just have a few little plants in the window, plants and things to care for plants was all that it sold. "Ohhhhh! Oma! Look at all of them!"
"Please don't poke anything," requested a quiet male voice. "Some of the plants are delicate, that one snaps, and this one carries a few volts."
Sylvia looked up and was surprised to see a young man who looked to be in his late teens or early twenties, with brown hair, Occidental eyes with warm greenish brown irises, and golden tan skin. "I'm familiar with plants. Do you work here?"
"I do." He smiled. "I'm Arther, and my family owns the shop. Is there anything you'd like me to help you find?"
"Well," she said slowly, peeking over her shoulder to make sure that Oma was right there with her before turning back and looking up at him again. "We came in to find out about the little plants in the window, but now I'm curious about this plant that you mentioned. Is this electric cactus?"
"It is." He nodded and carefully picked up the large clear globe that held the solid little lump of leafless greenery. "Grown here on this world, and not wild collected."
"It looks different from the images I've seen." Sylvia forgot shyness as her curiosity surged. "Have people bred cultivars of it?"
"The ones grown from the seed collected from domesticated plants seem to look like this," said Arther, frowning slightly at the inhabitant of the globe. "Or at least every one from the two batches of seed we've gotten have."
"You managed to get them to seed?" Her mouth dropped open with surprise. "The files I accessed said that they'd never reproduced in captivity."
"Heh. Yeah. I guess I forgot to submit updates for those." Arther rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "School is eating my brain."
"What institution are you attending?" asked Oma, looking up from the explanatory holo she'd been flicking through.
"I'm going into law enforcement." Arther set the electric cactus down. "I want to help with the day to day stuff."
"One of my cousins is going into law enforcement." Sylvia watched static play over the cactus' spikes and wondered again how much fun it would be to set up a little generator in the atrium so that a plant like this could run the light fountain.
"Really? What's his name? I might know him."
"Oh... um..." Sylvia blushed and looked up at Oma. "Probably not. I don't think he's started yet."
"Your grandfather will know. We can ask him when we go home." Oma held up a pretty pot containing a beautiful little jewel of a succulent. "Could you please tell me if this plant would be able to grow in an atrium specialized for the growing of apples, ivy, chamomile, and creeping thyme?"
Arther looked from the woman to the girl, but then smiled and nodded. "You'd just have to make sure to find it a spot in the lattice where it wouldn't get stepped on or buried in leaves. But they love those kinds of deciduous conditions. It makes them sing in the morning when the lights first come on."
"Sing?" Sylvia startled and turned her full attention onto the little blue plant. "What sort of singing?"
"Something like the crystals in the native memorial gardens do, only it's softer and due to air leaving through the plant's pores as they gear up to start making chlorophyll." Arther led them over to the window and picked up two other tiny plants- one splashed with dark fuchsia and lemon yellow, and the other bearing zebra-like dark green stripes on a light green background. "This striped one whistles with a different tone than the blue one, and this bright coloured one makes little popping sounds that can sometimes sound like kisses when older plants do it."
Sylvia was delighted. "Grandfather would love them, Oma."
"Let's buy them, then." The elderly woman smiled. "The pots are very pretty too, it will almost be a pity to move them to the atrium lattice."
"Oh, Grandfather will find a new use for the pots." Sylvia took the little striped plant and cradled it in her hands, trying to peep beneath the artificial moss surface that surrounded it. "Are they in substrate?"
"Yes, clear glass pellets. Their rootballs tend to only be about as large as they are, and don't spread out much," said Arther, his expression showing his enjoyment of having a fellow plant lover to talk to.
"Are there files about them on the infonet?" Sylvia gently touched the smooth skin of the plant in her hands.
"There should be. But I can give you a book about them as part of the sale. Do you want me to package these three for you?"
"Yes, please." She surrendered the one she was holding, then watched as Oma did the same before a splash of colour caught her eye. "Aquatic Heart Shield."
"Hmm?" Oma followed her gaze and gave a little exclamation of wonder. "It has leaves shaped like hearts."
"Yes." Arther grinned. "The preserved leaves are popular Heart Day gifts. But most people who come in don't have room for a full plant. As you can see, they get pretty big."
Oma walked over and touched one of the large, beautifully patterned heart shapes, then tilted her head to examine the entire huge plant that sprawled cheerfully over the edges of its tank of water. "I think I've seen the leaves displayed on walls. But I assumed that they were some sort of artwork."
"Well, they are," said Arther. "They just aren't made by any mortal, sentient being."
"They like more tropical conditions, so they wouldn't be able to grow in the atrium," said Sylvia, walking around the plant and marveling at the size of those lovely hearts and at the intricate patterns on them. Then she stopped with a little gasp. "They say 'I <3 U'! Some of them, anyway. Look, Oma!"
"Is that natural?" Oma walked to stand by her granddaughter and study the leaves more closely.
"It is." Arther chuckled. "Some people have even tried breeding for it, but it's not a gene you can pinpoint."
"How much does it cost?" Oma's smile looked so thoughtful and secretive that Sylvia realized what she was thinking of and clapped hands over blushing cheeks.
"This one isn't for sale," said Arther, regretful of disappointing them. "They're just too hard to transport without them going into shock at the move. But we have a couple corm-tubers."
"What are corm-tubers?" asked Oma.
"Big things shaped like bulbs, but solid like a tuber," explained Sylvia as Arther hurried to set the three little singing plants on the workstation behind the sales counter.
"Very big," he said, coming back to display a piece of vegetable that was as big as his head. "This one will make a plant bigger than our display, but it's the smallest dormant one that I have on hand right now."
Oma took it carefully, her arms tensed just slightly at the weight. "Do they make good house pets if there's room for them?"
"Oh yes. If you equip their tank with a light forcefield dome to hold in some extra humidity, and stick a freshwater pump clam in the substrate with them they won't need any other care than a daily dose of food for the clam and maybe a top up on their water if you don't set up an automatic system for it."
"What about the decay of the leaves that might touch the water?" Oma turned the corm-tuber over in her hands, looking very interested.
"The clam filters out all impurities," said Sylvia. "Hannah and Esther's parents use them on their farms to keep the water in the growing trays clean."
Oma smiled that happy, plotting smile again, cradling the corm-tuber gently. "Do you think your grandfather would like this plant, Sylvia?"
"Yes." She smiled too, eyes shining and cheeks pink. "He'd love it, because it came from you. And he'd take good care of it, too."
Oma chuckled, the sound pleased and tender, then turned back to Arther, who was looking at her with a surprised and quizzical expression. "We'll take this too. Do you have a proper tank with a forcefield emitter and water system?"
"We... do. Yes, yes, we do." Arther shook himself and grinned widely, the expression happy and excited. "We have a couple, actually. Would you like a clear one, or this cobalt blue?"
"Oh, the blue one is pretty," said Oma, walking over to look. "But it's too small. I want this plant to reach its maximum potential."
"Er. You realize that that plant could easily take on a ten foot spread, and be about five foot tall?" Arther paused uncertainly.
"We have room." Oma smiled.
"Oh. Right. Of course you do." He smiled back. "We'll have to order a tank that size, though."
"So it will be posted?" Sylvia perked, her hand going to her wrist computer in readiness of sending the family's teleportal posting code.
"Yes. I think we probably need a couple weeks to get it made." Arther glanced up and to the side as he calculated. "You want the blue, and the decorative modeling?"
"Yes, yes I do," said Grandmother serenely, her satisfaction with the gift growing.
"Alright. That will cost..." Arther named off a very fair price for the amount of work and material involved.
"Add it to our order." Sylvia smiled. "Can we bring the corm-tuber home today? It will make the gift even more exciting for Grandfather if he has a part of it already."
"Of course you can. It won't be too heavy for you?" Arther paused and looked from one to the other with concern.
"We have an antigrav shopping disk if it gets heavy." Sylvia held up the little blue and silver device, which was hanging from her belt by its lead strap.
"Okay, good." He smiled again, then glanced around. "...Is there anything else you'd like?"
Sylvia took another, more careful look around. "I'd like to come back here again on another day, just to make sure I can see all the plants."
Then she stepped over to look at some other plants with heart shaped leaves, these solid green and about as large as the palm of her hand. "Where are these violets from?"
Arther grinned. "Earth."
"What?" She looked up with surprise. "But there aren't any violets on the heritage lists."
"That's because we just found them, sealed in cold pour resin in a pendant that came over with its owner," said Arther. "Those six and six more are all there are on the planet yet. One of the original three seeds was dead. One grew the mother of these Canada Violets, and the other was for a kind of viola called 'Johnny Jump-up'."
"The little tri-coloured ones that were such a popular thing to copy in jewelery art two generations ago?" Sylvia studied the plants around the bed of violets, and then gently picked up a growing pick that contained a plant with tiny leaves that somehow managed to look very determined and busy. "This is one of them, isn't it?"
"Yes." His hands came out, protective and ready to rescue, but Sylvia held the pick knowledgeably as she gave the little plant a wistful look.
"If there are only that many than these won't be for sale, I guess." She touched a leaf and then gently set the pick back in its place in the lattice of the bed.
"No," said Arther regretfully. "They're here for people to see what some of the flowers of Earth looked like. But hopefully some day we'll have enough to share. It happened with the chamomile and creeping thyme, and the natives had to clone those from tissue found in a tea bag that wound up being brought over in someone's pocket."
Sylvia nodded, her gaze shifting to the plants beside the leafy refugees of Earth. "Are these other violets for sale? My grandfather said that he'd like violets for the quiet corners of the atrium."
"They are, and we have seed, too." Arther settled back. "Did he say what colour he wanted?"
She chuckled. "Grandfather doesn't really worry about colour. He just likes making the atrium look pretty and as natural as possible."
"Does he like scents?" Arther turned his head to look at a display of seed pellets.
"Yes." Sylvia perked. "Do you have Yancy violets?"
"I do." He picked up one of the compressed bits of organic matter. "This is a mixed colour blend that stays mixed pretty well over the years instead of the yellow, orange, and whites all dying out and leaving only the purple ones. They're not a hybrid or a GMO, though. Those are the colours they came in back on Syndr five."
"Oh. The real Yancy violets." Sylvia was delighted.
"Yup." Arther grinned, then took down another seed pellet. "You don't have any scatter poppies yet?"
"On, no. We don't. We didn't know where to get them." Sylvia took it and studied the writing on the package with interest. "This is the variety that doesn't try to take over the world."
"Yeah, we don't sell anything invasive here. Only the good stuff." Arther turned his head to check on Oma and saw her standing over to one side and gazing down at the corm-tuber as she thought of other things.
"And only organics?" Sylvia scanned the entire seed display, reading all the names to herself.
"Oh no. We're here to preserve rare plants, so we have two native species too." Arther looked back to the girl. "Broadleaf isn't very pretty though, and it would get bigger than your apple trees."
Sylvia nodded, her mind bringing up an image of the big cyberplant that grew in the few patches of the planet that weren't built up and which was used as an accent in some native homes, then switched to a tiny cousin, nearly extinct cousin of those stately cyberflora that she had longed to add to the atrium since the day she'd first found out about them. "But do you have nanoviolets?"
"Right here." He went to a shelf a short distance away and took down a small tray. "Silver, copper, and purple. They'd like to hang out with your atrium collection."
"Ohhh." Sylvia reached to touch a tiny metallic blossom and watched small leaf tendrils uncurl to touch her before curling again peacefully once the little cybernetic life form registered that she wasn't a threat to be pushed away. "We have a piece of pitted metal they can live on. Is this tray a full colony?"
"Yes. The perfect number to keep them from going migratory. Do you know how to get them settled in?" Arther poked at a plantlet with gleaming blossoms and was poked in return as it followed its programming and tried to discourage the behavior.
"Smear the rock with a light coating of rust and sweet oil, then set the tray on it and leave them alone for a day or so." She grinned as a little purple flower opened with a barely audible pop. "Ohh, they're so pretty! Grandfather is going to love all these flowers."
Arther chuckled as he turned to set the colony of nanoviolets on the table beside the singing plants and the seed pellets. "I better post these guys to you, though. We don't want them getting scared."
"True." Sylvia hugged herself absently, and then checked on Oma, only to see that lady looking at her quizzically.
"Don't you like plants yourself, Sylvia?"
She blinked. "Of course I do. They're so fascinating."
"But then why don't you have any pet ones in your bedroom?" asked Oma. "It would be pleasant scenery, and it would also be healthful for you."
"I... never thought of it," admitted Sylvia sheepishly.
"Would you like to have plants in your room?" Oma looked around.
"Yes, I would. Will you pick one for me, Oma? One that can sit on my desk." She smiled hopefully, her eyes dancing with anticipation.
"Certainly I will." Oma paused in her perusal of the surrounding shelves and displays to study a cheerful little rosette of a plant with neat leaves that was growing in a clear, rounded bowl of largish pebbles in assorted muted colours. "Do you like plush leaves?"
"Plush...?" Sylvia spotted the plant, and her eyes widened at sight of its large yellow trumpet flowers and the fuzzy blue roots that trailed around the inside of the bowl and hung over the edge of it slightly in places. "Ohhh, what is that?"
Arther looked up from packaging the nanoviolets and grinned. "Are you looking at the blueroot?"
"It has blue roots," said Oma, chuckling. "What sort of care does it need?"
"A misting and about five hours of light from a standard living bulb every day. They're canyon plants that grow in piles of sterile rock scree in their native habitat." Arther turned his attention back to the packaging. "They're pretty popular because of how easy care they are. I have kits so that you don't need to manually do the misting, too."
"I can mist it." Sylvia shook her head, thinking that needing that sort of thing automatized was rather silly. "But maybe we should get a light stand for the bowl. I don't always spend a lot of time in my room."
"Right here." Arther pointed to the display, then held out his secure trading computer. "Give me your posting code?"
"Alright." Sylvia turned her attention to her wrist and carefully pressed the right buttons to make it send the code.
"Got it." Arther grinned as the STC beeped, then turned and fed the code to the delivery mecha that stood beside the work station. "And I'll need a mail code so that I can call and let you know when the Heart Shield tank's ready, too."
Sylvia nodded and recited hers as she put her wrist computer back to sleep and then carefully took the blueroot bowl down from the shelf, her arms tensing against the weight of its stony substrate. "It's so pretty. Wait, what's this plant in the jar, Arther?"
"Big or little?" He didn't look up.
"It's about the same size as the blueroot plant. The lid of the jar is green, and there's no liquid in the jar." Sylvia noticed a second jar as she was speaking, this one containing several small floating plants and a grumpy looking little green fish.
"Wall creeper. If you like blueroot you might like that one too. It sticks onto walls without damaging them, and if you aim a light at a certain spot on the wall it moves over to the spot and stays there. Little orange daisy flowers with green centers, but they don't happen very often. It's mostly grown for the leaves and the mobility. At least, that's what we grow it for." Arther grinned as he finished packaging the nanoviolets. "Do you want the seeds in with the cyberflowers or with the singing plants?"
"Put them with the nanoviolets please," said Oma as she watched Sylvia carefully acquire a jar of wall creeper to go with the bowl of blueroot.
"We have to come back here again someday." The thirteen year old looked up with a grin.
"Your friends might enjoy this shop too." Oma tucked the corm-tuber into the crook of one arm and reached to be sure that Sylvia had a secure grip on her load.
"I think they would." Sylvia looked up. "Actually, I think they might like the whole promenade better than the mall. It's nice and quiet and pretty. What I've heard of the mall doesn't sound interesting except for the store that sells cyberpets."
"Cyberpets?" Arther paused to take a spent blossom off a plant he was passing. "Three doors down. Millie's got lightfish tanks and things for pet mechadrones to play with too."
Sylvia blinked and then looked up at Oma excitedly.
"Well, I know where we're going next." Oma chuckled.