Seeds of Change

Ali's office is an alcove hidden by some strangely placed beams. There are colored fabrics and sheets nailed up suggesting a closed off space. Inside is a ratty old couch, a few folding chairs and the oldest, cruddiest looking card table Ellena has ever seen in her life. Ellena sits on the couch and it exhales a fragrance of mildew and stale weed. She gags and reminds herself that throwing up is not an option.

From her satchel, she removes the manila envelope. "Here," she says, her voice dry in her throat.

"Whach'you got for me?" Ali rubs his hands together in excitement. She can't help but notice the stiffness of his prosthetic. How that hand doesn't quite bend like it should.

"They're all labeled. All of them are heirlooms so they don't have the G3A4 gene Kraydynamics spliced in."

"Kraydynamics acts like plants are just another patentable product," Adonis almost spits as he says this.

Ellena glances at Adonis, but says to Ali. "My family has been breeding plants for five generations, so you'll have to name them after us."

Ali tips the envelope onto the table and more envelopes pour out. They are of various sizes and variety. Some are in typical white envelopes, saved from official State notices, other are smaller versions of the larger envelope that were produced specifically for seed saving. That is, of course, before such a practice died out. Then, there are the handmade ones from scraps of paper. Some have writing or pictures since they came from fliers and other have the blue lines of notebook paper. Those envelopes are the most worn, showing frayed corners and tops darkened where dirty hands opened them while planting.

Ellena lets her breath out. Why on earth is she afraid of these people? It will be her mother that spring who would kill her. These seeds are their wealth and their livelihood. No matter how badly the restrictions were, they always ate well.

"Corn, beets, kale, ...you got any tomatoes in here?" Ali asks.

"There might be, but we grow our tomatoes differently because the seeds are too much work to ferment and dry and whatever. It's a pain."

Ali looks at her with a slightly sideways glance, anger at the corners of his eyes. "We haven't had tomatoes in four years. So what do you do girl? What's different?"

"Oh, we just mix the guts up in a jar in the fall and plant them in a line in the garden. It's way easier. Winter breaks down the gel around the seeds and then you don't have to start them in a greenhouse in the spring. You know? Nature just takes care of it. Only seeds that can deal with the cold come up."

"You grow outside?" Ali asks, his voice holds a mixture of doubt and amazement.

"Yeah," she says. Mentally she's taking into account the differences between how she learned to grow from what they are trying to accomplish here. Growing outside would be the fastest way for this all to end. Everything they do has to stay hidden behind concrete walls in the kinds of neighborhoods no one looks at too closely. Winter would never be able to break down their see casings. Their temperatures would always be controlled and their lighting perfectly rationed. The future generation of these seeds would become something new entirely.

"There might be some in there. I didn't really look before I stole them from my parents, you know?"

"Cha," Ali snorts. His jaw is clenched and his head bobs up and down as he continues rifling through the packets.

Ellena sits on the dirty couch waiting. Doubt chewing a hole in her soul. She knew she shouldn't have let Adonis talk her into this, but his voice is thick and smooth like chocolate. Still, this interaction leavers her feeling used.

Adonis reaches down and grabs Ellena's hand. "Ready?" he asks, bringing her hand to his lips. She feels encased by them and their smooth softness. She uses his hand as leverage to pull herself up from the couch.

"Let's go," she says.

Ellena follow him back up the stairwell, breathless.

"Hey," he says, his voice husky when they get back to the Ford. "Can you help bring us more seeds?"

Adonis catches the flicker of darkness across her face.

Ellena has never felt so afraid in her life.