Manchineel - The Cherry tree

The Doctor and I endure a painful dinner in partial silence until the scent of cherry blossom wafts through an open window. I breathe it in and try to capture it inside me.

“What a beautiful smell. Is it real?” I ask.

Dr Cho looks up momentarily from her plate.

“The cherry tree?” Oh yes, even though we limit most of the organic life to the farming zone, we made an exception for the Cherry Tree.

“It’s beautiful.”

“And ancient. It was a gift from the Tibetan monks on Earth. I was presented it for my research in robotic bio forms.”

As I stare out of the window, I notice several small honeybees buzzing around the flowers.

“Wait, are those bees?” I ask, confused.

“They’re part of the reason I have the tree.” She answers.

“We were able to use fungi to mimic a material similar to brain tissue and program the bees. Their composition is a combination of organic and robotic elements. At night, after the pollination is complete, they return to the farming zone.”

“Mind if I take a look?” I ask.

“Be my guest.” She smiles genuinely for the first time.

As I step out into the garden, I breathe a sigh of relief and roll my shoulders to release some tension. Like everything in the Dome, it is unbelievably beautiful, raining pink petals as the artificial air wafts past its branches.

Laura would love to see this. I almost go to take a photo with my wrist com but stop myself with a pang of remorse in my chest. Lying to my daughter dosent come easily to me. I duck under the canopy of branches and sit against the trunk, fully immersed in its matrix of blossom.

A smile creeps across my face. I remember Laura eating a whole bowl of cherries when she was a toddler. I search on my wrist com for the video clip, find it and press play.

“Laura, did you eat all the cherries?” I ask while holding my device and entering the lounge. She’s sitting on the sofa, her face and clothes stained with purple juice. She pauses while she thinks of what to say. Then, with those beautiful eyes full of a thousand universes, she answers.

“Not ALL the cherries Momma, I left some for you!”

She hands me a bowl of pips with one half chewed cherry remaining at the bottom.

I don’t want to get emotional, so I end the clip there and return inside.

I make my excuses and Dr Cho directs me to a simple room with a bed and old-fashioned bedding. I can’t remember the last time I slept in a duvet. It feels luxurious as I rest my head on the pillow. I pour a glass of water from the side table. I’m asleep before I know it.

Something about the silence disturbs me. I wake, the room is black. It’s impossible for me to know how long I’ve been asleep. I must have been dead to the world. Probably the aftereffects of stasis.

I remember the mask covering my eyes. The bioluminescence is beautiful but doesn’t come with an off switch. I don’t remove it at first; it heightens my other senses and I need to figure out what I’m feeling.

I’m cold and the hairs on my arms are erect as I involuntarily shiver from the base of my neck in ripples down my spine. Something just walked over my grave.

Now it’s watching me.

I go to raise my hand but can’t move anything apart from my head. I toss it frantically from side to side, shifting the eye mask slightly from one eye. In the corner of the room, a glowing worm of liquid begins to form and creep across the polished floor. Its illuminated blue body undulating in watery segments as it emerges. Blindly searching for something, it sniffs the air.

I panic like a fly caught in a web. I’m confused, why can’t I move? Is this sleep paralysis? I scream but no sound emerges as I watch the entity make a detour towards my prosthetic leg lent against the wall. It enters, lighting up the mechanics from the inside as it searches and probes the inner workings. The leg lurches into life collapsing with a loud clatter. It immediately breaks the connection. The worm turns to liquid and splashes on the hard floor.

***

I’m woken by the beeping of my wrist monitor. My head feels fuzzy and I’m nauseous. A hangover without any of the fun, I think to myself.

I rub my eyes and look over to my leg. It’s propped up exactly where I left it last night, which leaves me doubting my sanity. I could have sworn it fell over last night?

My wrist buzzes again. It’s a message from Laura.

Tears well before I’ve even listened to the voice memo. I wipe them away with my sleeve and hit play.

“Hi Mom,” a dog barks in the background.

“Benson No! Sorry Mom, he’s chasing next door’s cat again.” Her voice is light, like sunshine.

“I hope everything is ok in the Artic and you haven’t run into any polar bears!” I smile but cover my mouth to stifle the sob.

“Nanna and me are fine. We miss you so much, but we’re good. Love you and talk soon.” I hear her blowing kisses and the message ends.

Lying to Laura was the hardest part. While flicking through the photo library I was supplied with, I come across a selfie where I’m looking happy, wearing a snowsuit and waving at the camera, taken at an indoor snow dome. It’s convincing. I press send.