The Speaker for the Trees (13 page)

Or so he hoped.

Hedge stepped
back, set his hands on his hips. Looked to a rusty wheelbarrow at his side
where the Plant of Ultimate Knowing was seated. His eyes were somewhat filmy,
the faint green of his skin was turning gray.

At the same
time there was a crunch of gravel as John Elm walked up the stone driveway,
clonked up the wooden porch stairs and pulled the door open. John's once
hickory hair and eyebrows were ash colored. He nodded.

"That's
it," he said.

Both of them
looked at the wheelbarrow.

"Okay,"
said the Plant. "Let's wake them up."

Hedge turned to
a table where a sheet rose over a small lump in the center. He yanked the sheet
away and dust swirled above a coffee maker. In so many ways humanity was
agonizingly close to one breakthrough or another, but they always seemed to be
pointing the right machine in the wrong direction. The machine appeared no
different from any other coffee maker with exception to two additional buttons
John had marked with black marker on surgical tape: Awaken and Asleepen. Hedge
flipped a toggle switch to On and the machine began to hum.

“Water,” said
Hedge, eyeing the machine. “So it doesn’t overheat.”

John left for
the kitchen and returned with a bowl of water that he poured into the top of
the coffee maker. The machine gurgled and began to drip.

“Before we do
this, might we consider the consequences?”

Hedge look at
John in puzzlement.

“What
consequences?” asked Hedge.

John looked
back, equally mystified.

“I didn’t say
anything,” he responded.

Hedge looked at
the Plant of Ultimate Knowing.

“Me either,” it
said.

“I said it.”

Hedge and John
turned.

A man stood
before the doorway, though it remained closed behind him and there was no
indication he’d used it to enter. A tremendous smile curled up one side of his
face. He pressed a slipping pair of impenetrably black sunglasses against his
face with a finger, then lowered the hand to his waist where he supported a
silver toaster. That would explain how he got inside.

Hedge did not
recognize him. Could humanity have awoken already? He checked the machine, but
the Awaken button remained dark. They were still in stasis. The only
explanation left was that plants had found them. No doubt they would not be
lenient this time. Now it would be extermination. Hedge’s shoulders slouched.

“Who are you?”
asked John.

“I am not a
plant, as you might suspect.”

“Oh,” said
Hedge relieved.

“I am Mr.
Visitor,” the man said, “and I have been looking for you for a very, very long
time.”

“Oh,” Hedge
repeated, this time very much alarmed.

“A Visitor,”
murmured the Plant.

“Correct,” said
Mr. Visitor. His gaze wandered across the interior of the house. “It has been
some time since I last visited. It is just as I remember. Remarkable.” He squinted,
inspecting the photo beside the bookcase. “Except that picture had more of a
cant to it.”

“An
idiosyncrasy we were unable to duplicate,” said the Plant.

“No. It is an
improvement,” Mr. Visitor remarked.

“You were
here?” Hedge interrupted, astounded. “In this house?”

“Not
this
house, per se,” said Mr. Visitor. “But… this house. Looking for you.”

“And wherever
you go, destruction follows,” John added darkly.

Mr. Visitor
tapped a finger against the toaster.

“That is the
pattern. Thus far I have remained a step behind you.”

“No longer, it
would seem,” said the Plant. “Why are you here? What have we done to earn
destruction?”

Mr. Visitor
cocked his head to one side.

“You? Nothing,
I imagine. Individuals are not my concern. I am more interested in civilizations.”

Hedge’s sadness
slowly gave way to uneasiness. The two of them seemed to be talking about the
same thing, and though they appeared to understand what the other was talking
about, both felt uncertain, as if the two ideas were grasping at one another’s
hands but hadn’t yet taken hold.

“You destroy
every civilization you encounter,” Hedge explained.

Mr. Visitor
blinked.

“Every
civilization I encounter has met its end soon after. This is true. Correlation
does imply causation.” Mr. Visitor’s eyes widened, understanding. “You believe
my coming is a harbinger of doom. It is, in a way. I would otherwise have no
reason for being here.”

“I don’t
understand,” said Hedge. “You are not here to destroy humanity, but humanity
will be destroyed.”

“Every
civilization I encounter is either incapable of responding to the impending
threat or refuses to admit its faults and amend them. None heed the warning.
Not even my own people. They are, in all cases, the purveyors of their own
destruction. My influence is painfully negligible.”

“Your people…,”
the Plant of Ultimate Knowing echoed.

Mr. Visitor
nodded.

“I am the last.
For many millennia now.”

“All the
stories we tell,” said John, “of so many encounters with Visitors. They are
you. Always you.
Only
you.”

Mr. Visitor
nodded.

“Few species
survive long enough to reach the point of civilization. Those few are fortunate
to exist in a period where the many hazards of the universe do not befall
during their development. It truly is a tragedy when a civilization survives so
long, escaping so many perils, only to die by its own hand.”

“Then who did
you come to warn?” asked Hedge.

“I had meant to
warn you that humanity stood upon such a precipice. I have found leaders of
worlds have too much invested in their status to change anything. Instead, I
sought someone who might value the people itself. Someone who would seek to
save them. I am glad to say I was successful in locating such as person, though
a bit late. Now my mission becomes asking you to consider the consequences of
waking them. Consider waking them places them back upon their precipice.”

Hedge raised a
hand and flexed a somewhat flattened thumb, recalling his experiences building
the fence.

“I know them
well enough to know they can learn from their mistakes.”

Mr. Visitor considered
this. He did not seem to understand what this meant, though he did understand
that Hedge would not be deterred.

“Very well. I
have only one request. That Mr. Hedge join me in my travels.”

Hedge frowned.

“I can’t go.”

“Why not? Your
mission is complete. Almost.”

“I think
because I am
too
human,” said Hedge. “As a human I pine for things just
beyond reach and cleave to them when they wander near enough.”

“I see,” said
Mr. Visitor. “They are very near now.”

Hedge glanced
at the coffee machine.

“Very,” he
agreed.

“You should
stay,” the Plant suggested. “You should join us rather than the other way
round. See how this works out. It would do you good to see a success now and
again.”

Mr. Visitor
hesitated.

“Perhaps,” he
said. “But where would I fit into your elaborate design?”

* * *

Considering the
sheer volume of details to be reproduced, errors were inevitable. People who
were certain they put watches on their right wrist were at a momentary loss
until they found them on the left. Leaders of nations felt certain they had
been little more than grocery store clerks the day before, while grocery store
clerks were possessed by a strong impression that they had ruled nations not
long ago. Despite some initial discomfort, these people found their new
responsibilities and wristwatch locations more convenient and much to their
liking. Former clerks fit snugly in their new positions; former presidents
wondered how they had ever been capable of more than bagging groceries. Soon,
all of them decided things could not have been any other way, and should those
lingering dreams come true everyone would be the worse for it.

For the most
part, nothing was changed. Across the world people were waking up, finding
themselves right where they remembered, doing the things they knew best. Mail
carriers delivering, politicians arguing, athletes competing, mathematicians
adding. In a small midwest town a short man in a wrinkled shirt named Scud
Peabody was greeted at Milo's Corner Diner with utmost respect, treated to free
coffee by patrons who hung anxiously upon his every stammering word, fascinated
by his sincerity, his clarity of thought, and a mind which moved with such
rapidity that his sputtering mouth simply could not keep up.

Foremost among
them was a man named Garry Thorne, who repeated Scud's words to other folk as
though it were writ passed down from the burning summit of some holy mountain.
It only made sense to be polite to Scud, as he could remember nothing but
politeness throughout their relationship, and it filled him with a powerful joy
that he wanted to spread everywhere: throughout the diner, throughout the town,
to the places across the country where his delivery truck took him, even his
own family which he loved and loved him in return. He knew full well, because Scud
had said as much, that to love others was to be loved in return, and nothing
brought him greater joy.

At the foot of
a rosewood bed covered by a flowered comforter inside a two-story farmhouse
surrounded by corn and honeybee hives was a wooden chair, and in that chair was
a plant alien named Hedge. He watched. Waited. Just as he had before, for
twenty years, though this time there would be no instructions. Life was his own
and this was how he chose to spend it.

In the bed lay
Anna, who had returned to consciousness as had everyone else, but had yet to
rise from her slumber.

Her face was
soft and round, and Hedge wanted very much to touch it but was afraid doing so
would ruin the image, as if it were a reflection in a puddle. Humanity was
lovely and serene in those untroubled moments between dreams. Her breath raised
and lowered the sheets with a regular pulse and her eyebrows lifted as her mind
ran through the labyrinth of interconnected fantasies. Hedge was enthralled by
her symmetry, yet the word was too cool and dry. She was beautiful.

In the sill of
the broad bedroom window full of light sat a thin weed, somewhat taller than
when Hedge first encountered it. Two red leaves grew from the top, and a third
hung from the tip of another branch extending from the middle of the stem.

Mr. Visitor sat
on the sill beside the Plant, looking up into the sky.

It was possible
plants might find them eventually. Maybe the Council would discover they'd been
duped, but there was no indication so far. If they did, perhaps by then
humanity would be better able to negotiate for themselves. Perhaps plants would
be more ready to welcome them.

“What will my
name be?” asked Mr. Visitor. “I gather Mr. Visitor was not as subtle as I
hoped.”

“Edwin,” said
Hedge. “You’re my brother. From New Jersey.”

“Very good,”
said the Plant.

"It is
entirely possible they could revert to their miserable ways,” said Mr. Visitor.
“Perhaps they are innately cruel and barbarous with a few accidental flashes of
inspiration and... well... humanity. It's possible we have imperiled the entire
universe in the hope that they will come to their senses before it's too late.
It's possible that doing as your Council asked was best."

"Maybe,”
said the Plant.

"Then
what? What if they turn suddenly foul?"

"Then we
do it again."

"That's
not a solution."

“It isn’t,” the
Plant agreed. “It’s an opportunity. They need only take it.”

"Hm. God
help them," Mr. Visitor remarked. "If you believe in that
metaphysical mumbo jumbo."

Hedge nodded.

"He
has."

The Plant
sounded amused.

“Yes. I suppose
He has, hasn’t He?”

The warm light
streaming through the window made Hedge drowsy and he was drifting gradually
toward slumber when a twitch beneath the covers brought him swiftly back to
alertness.

At last, waking
from a long and fitful sleep, Anna opened her bleary eyes, saw Hedge smiling at
her and smiled in return. Maybe his skin seemed a bit baggier than she
remembered, eyes a bit deeper, back a bit more stooped. Whatever was amiss she
still loved him. Hedge could see it in her smile.

"I thought
you were going to New Jersey," she said. "To see your brother."

Hedge shrugged,
grinned wryly.

"I..."
His mind raced with all the things he'd thought to tell her. Everything he
realized he should have said before but was, like all people before their flash
of clarity, ignorant. "I decided to stay."

She smiled
again. Then she took a deep breath through her nose, closed her eyes, hugged
the pillow tight, and uttered a single word as she drifted back to sleep.

"Good."

Beside the bed
was a bonsai plant. Hedge looked at it and knew it was looking back at him. He
sensed a feeling of satisfaction, of realized potential and relaxation after a
long long period of tension and expectation, as though whatever it had been
watching for had finally come to pass.

About the Author

The author of
this story has held several positions in recent years, including Content
Writer, Grant Writer, Obituary Clerk, and Staff Writer, and is under the false
impression that these experiences have added to his character since they have
not contributed much to his finances. He was awarded a BFA in Creative Writing
and Journalism and a BA in Technical Communication by Bowling Green State
University because they are giving and eager to make friends. He has a few
scattered publications with
The Circle
magazine,
Wild Violet
,
Toasted
Cheese
, and
Lovable Losers Literary Revue
, and resides in the drab,
northeastern region of Ohio because it makes everything else seem fascinating,
exotic, and beautiful.