The Speaker for the Trees Read online

  If it had to be the latter, and Hedge suspected it would be, he hoped the Plant would be kind enough to satisfy itself with the knowledge that it had turned Hedge away from disaster rather than tell the Council his aim in coming here. It was these hopes that pressed him forward.

  There had been only one plant in history convicted of treason. A plant for whom history had no name. All that remained to commemorate the ignominious existence of the traitor plant was its unthinkable and mortifying crime, which rang through history as clearly as a church bell calling the penitent to its door on a solemn Sunday morning. This plant had attempted to blow up the Council, insisting plants had no right to dictate the existences of other species. The plant was captured, put on trial, and sentenced to be mulched.

  Hedge shuddered.

  Mulched. How horrific. Moreso when he thought he too may share such a fate. Become nameless and reviled by an entire species. And not so long ago the largest of his worries was the consumption of a few pork chops. How he missed that distant world more than ever.

  Hedge passed through the vaulted aperture in the front of what Hedge had thought a building from a distance, but could see now that it was actually a heaping of crawling vines shaped into a dome. It encased a broad area with the imperfect grip of an overturned colander, allowing bands of light to slip through in thousands of humming strands.

  He felt himself shaking with the understanding that he would soon be in the presence of an awesome creature whose existence spanned eons. Its knowledge penetrated everything: physics, chemistry, botany, philosophy. There were rumors it could see through time, and certainly it could read Hedge's thoughts as plainly as Hedge could read roadside billboards: 3 miles to next Rest Stop; 5 miles to next Act of Insubordination and Treason.

  The thought that all his secrets would be laid bare in such stark fashion frightened him. Not just because they were his private thoughts which no one should know, but because of the realization that he had secrets when, as an honest and open plant, he shouldn't. The Plant of Ultimate Knowing would see he cared entirely too much for the humans and judge they had turned him from his true purpose. Or worse, it would delve into his mind and learn the Council was right, that Hedge was a human interloper trying to save his kinsmen, even though that wasn't entirely true. There was only evidence enough to support its trueness.

  It had been a mistake to come here, Hedge realized. The visit would only bring disaster. The Council may be wrong, but Hedge lacked the evidence and intellect to turn them from such a course.

  He turned back down the path but found his way blocked by the towering form of a garden acolyte as it moved toward him. The foliage on either side was too thick to press through without damaging it. The acolyte had no eyes, no face, only a thick green trunk with a great gathering of tendrils at the base that writhed slowly like an octopus flexing faintly to keep itself level in the water. It did not attempt to care for any of the plants on either side of the path, it simply remained, too large to go around.

  Hedge would have to find a different way out.

  He resumed following the path and after a few steps his heel sank into soft dirt. At first he thought he'd gone off the path, but soon realized he'd wandered into a cloister of some sort where several of the paths converged and the soil was rich and black. Unlike the rest of the garden, this patch was absent of plantlife but for a solitary fat stalk as big around as his head that thrust out of the ground.

  The stalk arced high over Hedge and his neck craned back to take in the rest of the plant. A single leaf curled away from the trunk like the peel of a partially opened banana, and the top was dominated by the huge, brown-budded face of an enormous sunflower that hung over him like a dormant showerhead: the Plant of Ultimate Knowing.

  Light and fast as he was able, Hedge made for the nearest open path. As he approached, another acolyte stepped out of the growth and stopped on the path, filling it. He moved toward the next, but an acolyte was already emerging. As he looked around the clearing he saw that all the paths had been filled by silent watchmen. There was no way out.

  Hedge fumbled with the toaster.

  WHY HAVE YOU COME?

  The voice boomed through the garden, slow and powerful like a rhinoceros plowing through the soft husks of dead trees, emanating from everywhere and hammering Hedge's mind with thundering boldface. Startled, the toaster fell out of his hands.

  Hedge knew he was trapped. The plant was surely already peering into his mind, reading the long scroll of his thoughts as they unspooled from the typewriter: Run, Hide, Anna, Bees. Full of mortification and despair, pity and frustration.

  He opened his mouth to respond, stooping for the toaster as he searched for the proper words to use for a creature who had been extant for so many eons, realizing banter and trite speak would be tiresome and that he should just get right to the point. Then paused.

  Something was amiss.

  The domed enclosure was appropriately arcane and awe inspiring, the air stank of a moldy, sodden swamp. Bees hummed in majestic monotone as they moved from plant to plant, giving the dome a pastoral air that reminded Hedge of earth-home, his ears filled with the sound of a choir that could sing just one note, but performed it with soul-stirring flawlessness. Everything seemed fitting. With exception, he decided, to the Plant of Ultimate Knowing. There was something overblown and conspicuous about the copious amount of detritus and mood. There was too much atmosphere. It was what humans called a Contrivance, where the situation was arranged to generate a preordained opinion. This, the cavernous room, the abundance of plantlife, the size of the Plant of Ultimate Knowing, was designed to create Awe.

  Hedge knew it was the negative influence of humanity which brought him to this suspicious conclusion but couldn't resist the impulse to see this line of thought through to the end.

  Contrivance was a clever way of saying Lie, and Lie was deception. Deception was intended to take one from the course of truth, and it was the deception that troubled Hedge. Why would he be led from truth and what was the truth that was being hidden from him?

  The problem wasn't so much with the chamber, but that the Plant of Ultimate Knowing didn't belong in it. If the plant was indeed all knowing it would not only know the question but have an answer prepared. Couldn't the plant see his thoughts? Extrapolate his reasons for being here simply through the tilt in his gait, or the slant of his brow or the timbre of his voice? It was the Plant of Ultimate Knowing after all, not the Plant of Mostly Knowing or the Plant of Kind of Guessing.

  So instead of presenting his question to the Plant in a humble fashion as was befitting a plant of its prestige, Hedge found himself being what most humans tended to be when they were in a situation where they were disadvantaged or dubious: Impertinent.

  "Aren't you the Plant of Ultimate Knowing? Shouldn’t you know why I’m here?"

  The Plant was unfazed.

  IT WAS A RHETORICAL QUESTION

  Still, Hedge was suspicious.

  "So?" asked Hedge.

  SO, WHAT? the Plant replied.

  "If you know why I’m here, provide me with a solution."

  There was a pause, a low rumbling as though the plant were muttering to itself, then its voice regained its imperious volume.

  IT IS TRADITIONAL TO FORMALLY VOICE YOUR QUESTION TO THE PLANT OF ULTIMATE KNOWING

  Oh.

  "I have been asked by the Council to place humanity in storage, which will essentially end their civilization. I know I should simply obey, but there is something intangible, a sense of discomfort in this solution, that tells me the Council may be in error. Surely humanity is wretched and miserable and antagonistic, but their good features at the very least equal their bad. They care for their elderly..."

  ONLY IN THE HOPE THAT THEY WILL BE CARED FOR WHEN THEY ARE ELDERLY. IT IS MERELY ROUNDABOUT SELFISHNESS. A WAY OF PERFORMING SO OTHERS MIGHT DUPLICATE WHAT THEY DEEM KINDNESS. THEY ARE APES, AFTER ALL, WHO LEARN THROUGH IMITATION

  "But there are many other examp
les of their altruism that are undertaken simply to content themselves with the knowledge that they have done what is Right. Surely no species that seeks Rightness, in spite of their frequent inability to find it, is worth eradication. Is there an alternate solution to propose to the Council? What is that proposal and how do I get it to them? What must I do?"

  The Plant pondered for a moment, as though considering the question, which seemed unnecessary, again, because it was a plant of Ultimate Knowing. There really shouldn't be a process, just an answer. This was very strange.

  The long stalk began to stoop, bending in thought or trying to listen to a very quiet voice over the steady drone of the bees.

  "Hey," called a small voice from behind Hedge.

  He looked back to a row of bushes running along the edge of the enclosure where it seemed the voice originated, but saw nothing. An acolyte stood nearby, silent and still.

  There was a creaking sound as of an old, oaken door straining on its hinges. The great Plant was straightening. It had his answer.

  YOU ASK WHAT YOU MUST DO. THE ANSWER IS, YOU MUST DO NOTHING

  "What? Why?"

  YOU MUST DO AS YOU ARE FATED. AS I GAZE INTO YOUR FUTURE I SEE YOUR FATE IS TO DO NOTHING. DOING OTHER THAN NOTHING WILL ONLY GET IN THE WAY OF FATE, WHICH CANNOT BE GOTTEN IN THE WAY OF, AND THUS YOU WOULD EXHAUST YOURSELF NEEDLESSLY. NOTHING IS ALL THAT YOU CAN DO BECAUSE IT IS ALL THAT YOU SHALL ACCOMPLISH

  "But if we are all pulled along by fate and no one acts, how does anything happen?"

  NO ONE ACTS UNLESS THEY ARE FATED TO ACT, THUS FATE ACTS THROUGH THEM. YOU MUST ONLY ACT IF YOU ARE FATED TO DO SO

  Hedge's mind spun as he tried to follow the tangle of words.

  "How am I supposed to know if I'm fated to act?"

  YOU WILL SIMPLY ACT

  "But how do I know that's fate, and not my decision? How do I distinguish when I am complying with fate from when I am getting in its way?"

  THERE ARE NO DECISIONS IN FATE. ONLY ACTIONS WHICH ARE FATED

  It was possible, being this was a Plant of Ultimate Knowing, that this logic made perfect sense to all-knowing plants who spent all their time in deep and important thought. At the same time, were a plant so all-knowing, it would seem obvious to such an intelligent plant that Hedge had no idea what the Plant was trying to tell him and would attempt to explain in much simpler terms.

  Since this did not appear to be the case, Hedge felt compelled to express his confusion in the way most humans expressed themselves when they did not understand something.

  "What?"

  THERE IS NO MORE I NEED SAY

  With that the Plant of Ultimate Knowing began to sag, retreating into thought or slumber, and it was clear the Plant would have no more to do with him.

  Hedge felt heavy on the inside, though he'd not eaten anything but the mouthful of dirt outside the Council chamber in the past two days. The Plant had not met any of his hopes, neither posing a different plan to save humanity, nor justifying the Council's decision. Suffice to say, Hedge was extremely disappointed and distraught to discover the most ancient Plant in all the cosmos, known for its wisdom and knowledge, was either unwilling to help, or more worrisome still, did not know how.

  "Hey!"

  Again the voice came from the bushes, more insistent this time, so Hedge made his way toward them through the soft dirt of the clearing. He searched about for the source of the voice, pulling apart branches, glancing up at the stoic acolyte in suspicion, then turning in place to scan his surroundings. All he saw was more acolytes, flitting black specks of bees and the useless Plant of Ultimate Knowing.

  "I know why the decision disturbs you."

  This time Hedge was certain the voice came from the bushes, but still couldn't see where.

  "Down here."

  Below the bushes, hidden beneath thick, scratchy branches and thumbnail leaves, was a small, rudimentary plant no larger than Hedge's outstretched hand. Two small red leaves stood at the acme of a threadlike stem—a simple weed. Was this the plant speaking to him? He lay down on his stomach and poked the weed with a finger.

  "Stop that," said the weed, annoyed.

  "Why does the decision disturb me?" asked Hedge.

  "Because you know it is fundamentally wrong," the weed explained. "You know it is wrong to decide the fate of an entire species, to cast a verdict of doom upon that which does not meet your approval, yet you have been brainwashed into obeying every command given you by the Council and endorsed by the Plant of Ultimate Knowing. Duped by a governing body who has manipulated the truth with the singular purpose of maintaining its iron grip upon the universe."

  There was something greatly amiss with this weed. Very simple in appearance when compared the to far more complex plants and organisms growing around it, such as the acolytes and bees and much larger trees and bushes. Like the Plant of Ultimate Knowing, this weed too seemed greatly out of place, though in a much different fashion, and the difference fascinated him. It seemed to hearken back to a time long before the elaborations of evolution, to the earliest forms of plantlife.

  "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

  "Hiding."

  Hedge's gaze darted around in suspicion, but there was no movement elsewhere. The acolytes were perfectly motionless and the great Plant was quiet, its knowledge spent.

  "From what?" he whispered. "The Plant of Ultimate Knowing?"

  "That empty, pedantic puppet?" sneered the red-leaved weed. "No. My past. When those preposterous dopes accused me of treason and sentenced me to be mulched."

  Hedge took an involuntary gasp of air, sucking loose dirt into his throat and sending him into a fit of choked coughing.

  "You... tried," Hedge coughed. "Blow up..." Cough, cough. "Blow up... Council? How are you here? You were destroyed!"

  "I made no such attempt. A disgusting, filthy fabrication to sully my image. Fortunately, I eluded them and avoided destruction, though that didn't prevent them from spreading the lie. Destroying me would make it easier to insert their marionette into the role of Plant of Ultimate Knowing because they knew how important it was to have one. A Plant of Ultimate Knowing brings a very religious form of comfort. Someone is watching over us, is there to catch us when we fall, guide us back to the path should we go astray. Why fear anything if the almighty, in all their wisdom, condones your actions? Even better when it is they who make it dance."

  Hedge's mind reeled. The flood of information pouring out of this weed was almost more than his mind could hold all at once, and, like the pork chops, he feared his brain might begin emptying other things out to make room for the new data.

  The Plant of Ultimate Knowing was a false deity. The Council was concerned not for the welfare of the universe, but rather for its own survival. This weed...

  "You are the Plant of Ultimate Knowing?"

  The weed snorted.

  "I was, though I wouldn't be so brash as to use such a title. I am the advisor the Council replaced when the advice no longer satisfied them. Now that towering abomination is my successor. Not that it knows anything at all. It's just a sock puppet."

  "That was ages ago!"

  "Was it? Hard to determine. Time doesn't appear to move so much when nothing moves around you. You scarcely even note its passing."

  "You sound lonely."

  A human might have shrugged, but the weed had no such option. It made a noise of indifference.

  "Lonely, maybe. Mostly bored," it said. Then with more enthusiasm, "So! You've come here to save humanity. You must be Hedge."

  Hedge's eyes flew open.

  "You are prescient!"

  "Horse hockey. Delve into the future? Know the unknowable? See the invisible? Those are silly canards invented to give weight to the spoutings of that insipid behemoth. One can formulate a guess, note the emergence of familiar patterns, but tell the future? Absurd. It's all about having information and knowing how to use it."

  I KNOW ALL, I SEE ALL, I AM ALL called the giant sunflower drowsi
ly from the center of the clearing.

  "Blabbering windbag," the smaller plant muttered.

  "Then how did you know who I was? Why I was here?"

  "I just told you. Information. Knowledge is power. I still have friends and sympathizers in the Council. Surely you can guess who they are."

  Hedge thought back to his experience in the Council chamber and a sense of tininess and insignificance took him. All the stern, authoritative voices and powerful minds. None seemed to be in his favor. All of them seemed to want humanity exterminated, with exception to the daisies. Strange how those daises, in the face of the entire Council, had swayed them to alter their decision. The daisies. Could it be them? What was it they had told him?

  We have given you as much opportunity as we were able. An intelligent agent will make the best of this new opportunity.

  "And these acolytes, friends who have kept me hidden, were kind enough to guide you to me. Even they were roused by your arguments, though a bit puzzled by your expressions of enthusiasm."

  The acolyte beside him made no outward movement of acknowledgment.

  "You heard that?"

  "You want humanity to do well, do you?" asked the weed. "There's an idealistic statement if I ever heard one. Blind and foolish. Much like many of their philosophies. But... not without merit."

  "The Council thinks humans might have infiltrated our system of spies." Hedge shook his head in wonder at the revelations to which he'd been subjected. "They think I might be one of them!"

  "The consequence of a policy of deception is that the deceivers will invariably come to suspect they too are being deceived. By those they are deceiving and everyone else around them. Certainly an intelligent and observant agent such as yourself realizes that they are indeed becoming more human. But that isn't what really worries them."

  "Then what?"