“We’ve hit the limits of what our filtration and purification systems can do,” said İlkay, as he started on the salad on his plate.

  Lovorka pierced a piece of spirulina protein. “It’d be entirely comical if the implications weren’t so serious.”

  Turning to Chloë, her face remained expressionless. “Bluefirth acts as a backup supplier of energy and food to a number of settlements in this region. We need to ramp up production before the winter storms hit.”

  “More settlements have appealed for our help in the last couple of years,” İlkay added. “Without people who are willing to stay and work here at Bluefirth, we simply can’t keep up.”

  “If we suffer, so do they,” Lovorka finished. “You’d think that would be enough reason for them to come and help here? But—no.”

  A moment of silence descended as the meal consumed their attention.

  İlkay was the first to speak. “I’ve heard of your work with other settlements, in particular on—how shall we say—non-standard issues. Let me reassure you that we’re very glad of your assistance.”

  İlkay just seemed to know how to say the right thing at the right time. Perhaps a peace offering would smooth things over. Turning to Lovorka, Chloë asked, “How about if you show me around this afternoon? Then perhaps tomorrow … we can even get some work started while I’m here. I can help.” Did she sound too eager? She really needed to work on that.

  İlkay clapped his hands together, evidently satisfied. “I’ll leave you both to chat while I go tend to an experiment. See you later?”

  With a smile and a wave, he took his tray to a trolley, then disappeared through a doorway between a young fig tree and some hollyhocks.

  The moment İlkay was out of sight, Lovorka leaned forward, bristling. “Look, tell me why you’re really here?”

  Chloë stopped herself from crossing her arms, there wasn’t any need to be defensive. “What do you mean?”

  “I know what you guys get up to in Central.”

  Chloë blinked. This kind of distrust had occasionally shown up in the settlements she had been to, though it was getting rarer over time. Still, sometimes stories had a way of hanging around long after myths were dispersed.

  Using a deliberately gentle tone, she asked, “I’m assuming no one has explained to you what we really do?”

  “No need for that.” Lovorka’s disgust was written into her face. “Steal knowledge from different settlements, then give it to others for free? Jeopardise our chances of making fair trade agreements between ourselves? I don’t need an explanation. No, thank you.”

  Chloë took a deep breath. “Sharing isn’t stealing. We learn from settlements we visit, bring knowledge we’ve gathered to others who need it—just like what I’m coming here to do.”

  “Really?” Lovorka’s voice sounded just a bit too loud over the lunchtime din. “I heard what happened at Riverton. I don’t believe you.”

  “I think you misunderstand,” Chloë said. “Settlements are usually focused on their own unique issues. It’s not easy for them to learn how other communities resolved various challenges.”

  Lovorka’s lips curled with impatience, but she remained silent.

  Had she hit upon a small semblance of truth? Perhaps it was a good time to set the record straight.

  “We act as a knowledge hub, setting up programs so that settlements can partner with each other based on their needs,” Chloë explained. “Central takes nothing material in return for what we do. No community should be left to stagnate or to struggle on their own.”

  Lovorka’s laughter drowned the last of her words even before she finished her explanation.

  “Makes no sense to me that you take nothing in return. We’re all trying to survive. Why would you do that?”

  It had been a while since the last time Chloë had to give the whole spiel. She reached deep for some self-restraint. “Central is one of the oldest settlements. Like Bluefirth, in the beginning, we became a hub. We started helping out smaller communities around us—just like you. Decades on, as other communities found us, it seemed right that we should help each other thrive. It’s just something that citizens of Central have always done.” Lovorka leaned back into her chair and crossed her arms. “Someone I know at Riverton said a Centralist showed up one day, hung around for a week and never came back. Then a month later, Riverton’s techniques were being used elsewhere at Clyde. What do you say to that?”

  “You might find it hard to believe, but that’s actually quite normal.”

  “Oh?”

  Chloë sighed. Far more justification than she bargained for. What would it take to convince the woman in front of her? “Usually, a generalist—like me—would visit and understand the situation first. Perhaps the problem is best solved by a specialist or in partnership with another settlement. Clyde was partnered directly with Riverton.”

  Lovorka’s face seemed to soften a little.

  “It’s common for settlements to distrust each other initially,” said Chloë. “There’s not always a way for us to learn much about each other before we meet.”

  Lovorka paused, as if contemplating. Around them, the crowd of diners had thinned significantly.

  “Fine. It’s not like we have too many options,” Lovorka conceded. “And I suppose I can make use of a spare pair of hands this week.”

  Relief washed over Chloë. She might have just won Lovorka over enough to make progress. For now, at least.

  They looked down at their empty plates.

  “The tropical wing is next door,” said Lovorka. “Let’s start there.”

  Chloë’s heart leapt at the sight of familiar flowers and trees. Seeing them again felt like running into long lost friends. A large bush with brilliant red, five-petaled flowers stood near the entrance. She reached out and tenderly touched its leaves with her fingers. Hibiscus rosa-sinensis. Just like the ones her grandfather used to win prizes for. How long ago had she seen one of these in the flesh?

  “Are you a horticulturist?” asked Lovorka.

  “No, not exactly.” Chloë drew back her hand. “I specialise in how to use plants beyond just nutrition—dyes, inks, perfumery and the like.”

  “Perfumery? That’s unusual.”

  Chloë considered elaborating, but she picked up on a distinct scent in the air.

  An idea dawned on her. Making it work would depend on the type of plants at Bluefirth. The advantage of having a settlement set up within a former botanical garden—there ought to be plants here that would normally be difficult to find anywhere but in their native habitats on the other side of the planet.

  Even though she already knew the answer to the question, she asked, “Do you have the cananga odorata here?”

  Lovorka gave her a strange look but led her to the tree in a corner on the far side of the dome. It stood taller than Chloë expected, which meant it was healthy. Its branches reached out on all sides with glossy, pointed oval leaves. Here and there, pale blossoms drooped like green-yellow accidents. The scent was heady, somewhere between a sweet fruit and a flower.

  “Roll up your sleeve and smell the crook of your elbow.” Chloë said, demonstrating the pose to Lovorka.

  “What? Why?”

  Despite her scepticism, Lovorka copied Chloë’s bizarre instructions. When she pulled her face away from her elbow, she wrinkled her nose. “Wow. Okay, I have to admit that’s a neat trick.”

  “Yes, it’s a handy way to reset your sense of smell.”

  Lovorka seemed genuinely impressed. “I don’t remember the last time I was able to smell the ylang-ylang properly like this.”

  “What about the microalgae? Can you still smell it?”

  Lovorka stuck her nose into the inside of her elbow a second time. “I think I’ve got a combination of the ylang-ylang and the microalgae just in the background.”

  “Our olfactory senses adapt to our environment over time.” “Right, fine, I get it.” Impatience crept back into Lovorka’s voice. “Anything else you want to see?”

  Chloë held back a sigh. Convincing Lovorka of her idea was going to take time.

  Over the next hour, she asked for specific plants, and Lovorka guided her to them. They tested the earthiness of the vetiver grass, the resinous mastic tree, camphorous green of the common myrtles, the tang of citrus trees.

  All of a sudden, Lovorka stopped and laughed. “I see what you’re doing. You’re thinking we can replant a few of these all around the area to neutralise the smell? It won’t work. We’ve tried that. The scent of green is a stubborn one.”

  “Not neutralise.” Chloë smiled. “Perfumes are just a blend of scents so that they come together in a harmonious balance. Your citrus plants here, their fragrances are short-lived and they tend to be what you smell first—we call these the top notes. Some scents come a little later to our senses and hang around for a while, like the ylang-ylang. These are the heart or the middle notes.”

  “Notes, as in a chord? Like music.”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes. Then chemically you need a fixative, something that holds down and extends the aroma, like our friend the vetiver grass here, or the resin of a styrax tree.”

  Lovorka appeared to be thinking. “The main source of the external smell is the harvesting area. We’ve placed it as far away from the residences as possible precisely because of the problem. It’s in the east-most part of the complex.”

  “What do you suggest?” Chloë felt ready for anything at this point.

  “Let’s see if this could even work at the site.”

  They gathered a few of the fragrant flowers, fruits and leaves to take with them. From her satchel, Chloë pulled out small cellophane bags to house the flora samples. Out of habit, she labelled them before stowing them safely away.

  Together, they walked back through the cafeteria, the entrance, and a thriving vertical food farm. Then, they cut through a space with wildflowers in full bloom. But beyond that, the domes housed a scattering mess of untended plants. Once upon a time, these must have been gorgeously landscaped, but without human hands, some plants proved more dominant than others. In one glasshouse, a giant agave stretched out its spiky leaves like green, inert tentacles. The occasional tree threatened to burst the glass above it. Nature and human-made construct in a silent power struggle.

  “Restoring this place has been a challenge.” Lovorka waved an arm around them as they walked on an uneven path cracked by time, and by plants flexing their roots. “We’ve got so much undeveloped space that had been abandoned when the eco-resort closed down. There aren’t enough of us to tend to everything.”

  Would allowing the biodomes to rewild have been an option? Chloë glanced back at the giant agave. Humans had interfered here from the beginning. No, we started this, so it was our responsibility to maintain balance with nature.

  “How long ago did it close down?” Chloë wondered aloud.

  “Probably about fifty years? We designated some wildflower patches for the pollinators, which also helps to keep maintenance low. I’ve been here for ten years and there’s still so much to do.”

  Chloë stole a sidelong look at Lovorka. Her exasperation was undisguised. “Why did you stay?”

  Lovorka didn’t answer immediately.

  The path had narrowed, shrunk by tall, overzealous bushes on either side. Chloë squinted. It was difficult to identify the plants without stopping for a closer look, but Lovorka seemed intent on marching them onwards.

  “I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” she suddenly said.

  A story lurked behind the sentiment. Chloë swallowed her questions, opting instead to allow her companion space to speak freely.

  “I was born into a small caravan of travellers who never settled,” said Lovorka. “But many of them were getting old. We had to change our way of life, it was no longer sustainable. Let’s just say I had to drop the habit of fighting for survival—and learn to trust.”

  She flashed Chloë a pensive smile. There might have been a hint of pain.

  Ahead of them, the path tapered further, so they walked in a single file with Lovorka leading the way forward.

  “My grandfather was a traveller too,” said Chloë. “He eventually settled in Central, found work as a farmer there.”

  “I can tell you inherited his green thumbs.”

  “If only!” Chloë chuckled. “But he taught me a great deal.”

  The odour of seaweed got stronger. The path led them into a narrow glass passage. It opened up into another giant dome, which, unlike the ones prior, was completely devoid of plants. A small wooden cabin, somewhere between a shed and a hut, stood alone in the middle like a soliloquy.

  The smell was now overwhelming. Chloë struggled not to gag.

  “We suspect they originally used this area to manage waste,” Lovorka said. She’d put a hand over her nose and mouth. “It would explain why there are sections set so far from the main buildings. There is an identical space on the west side which we use for composting.”

  They finally reached the cabin, where the door was open and they could see İlkay working inside, his face under a mask. A trolley was parked near the doorway, full of glass bricks containing deep green liquid, similar to the ones Chloë had seen on the outer edges of Bluefirth in the morning. Sliding doors on both sides of the dome had been left wide open, presumably to encourage airflow, but that wasn’t working particularly well.

  İlkay looked up and waved to them through the open door. “You’ve made good progress?”

  “We have ideas,” Chloë smiled.

  Frustration furrowed Lovorka’s brow. “There’s no way I can smell anything while we’re in here. How about we try outside?”

  Chloë turned to İlkay. “Can we have a sample to take with us?”

  Armed with a small amount of the microalgae, they made their way through the eastern doors and headed for the woods beyond the meadow. Humidity made the air heavy, it was surprisingly warmer outside than in. While she welcomed the heat on her skin, Chloë recoiled from the sight that greeted them. Some of the trees had been damaged in the most recent storm, their trunks split in half, exposing the raw bark on their insides, the remains of their branches jutting into the sky.

  She paused to take a deep breath and steeled herself.

  Lovorka seemed unperturbed, and stuck her face into her elbow. “Phew, all my clothes probably stink. It’s going to bother me now.”

  Nonetheless, being outdoors felt good. The seaweed smell still pervaded the air but it was almost bearable. They sat down on a freshly fallen log.

  “We probably didn’t need that sample after all.” Chloë chuckled as she pulled out a notebook and the plant samples from her satchel. She held up a small bunch of immortelle and inhaled gently. The spiciness was turmeric, tarragon, and pepper all at the same time.

  She handed it to Lovorka, who wrinkled her nose. “That’s just weird, sorry.”

  Undeterred, Chloë passed a small branch of mastic shrub to her companion.

  “That’s promising,” said Lovorka, after giving it a sniff.

  One by one, as they went through their samples of plants and fruits, Chloë scribbled down notes on whether they went well together with the scent of sea-green in the backdrop.

  Something tugged at Chloë’s memory. From her satchel, she pulled out a tiny, nondescript amber bottle. She twisted off the black cap and held it up to her nose. “Forgot I’d brought this with me, just in case it came in useful.”

  “Here.” She handed it over to Lovorka. “It’s potent, you’d want to—”

  But her warning came too late and Lovorka screwed up her face in a mix of shock and revulsion.

  “What the—!”

  Chloë laughed.

  Lovorka knew by now what to do, so she reset her senses and tried again. “Okay, I’m stumped. This is amazing. What is it?” “Choya nakh. A balsam of roasted seashells, originally made from an ancient process in India.”

  “You roast seashells to get this?”

  She gave the bottle another sniff, and then smelled the air around them. “I see what it can do. It just rounds off the microalgae that tiny bit and makes it sweeter.”

  Chloë smiled. Her patience had finally paid off.

  Lovorka returned the bottle and Chloë twisted the cap back on to preserve the precious viscous liquid. “Tell me something. How do you get all the scents into a bottle?”

  “You extract the essential oils, but the process differs depending on the plant. Steam distillation is the most common, though there are other extraction processes. For resins you tap the trees for the gum. For citrus, it's with a cold expression of the peel, and so on.”

  “So you mean if I’ve got enough of these plants available in Bluefirth, I can extract the oils even while we’re growing the plants round the harvesting hub?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Lovorka’s sudden grin stretched from ear to ear, Chloë wondered what she had in mind.

  Dusk had brought on darkness by the time they returned to the complex and paced the area around the cabin, plotting out what they could plant where, taking into consideration a mix of aesthetics, and which plants went well together. Vetiver would go directly next to the harvesting cabin.

  “Citrus next to entryways, I think,” Lovorka postulated. She had found a large piece of paper onto which they’d sketched out a plan. “Tomorrow, we tidy and sort out the types of soil we need here. We should probably also start a few plants propagating.”

  “So much to do,” breathed Chloë. The long day’s effort had translated to a soreness in her back.

  Lovorka, on the other hand, seemed exhilarated. “Yes, it will take time. Pity you’re only here for the week.”

  Chloë gave a little shrug, but satisfaction glowed beneath her weariness. This tactic worked every time: how someone’s scepticism could be turned into passion the moment creativity was encouraged to take hold.

  A persistent, thundering noise rattled overhead. Chloë opened her eyes. A cozy darkness covered the room. It must not yet be morning. She had retreated to her cabin after a hearty dinner in the main hall. Sleep had overtaken her like a warm blanket, but now the noise made it impossible to fully relax.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23