Botanicaust

bodies very sick. ”
    “ What if I accidently touch one? ”
    Albert shook his head in sadness. “ Then you have to go to gene therapy. ”
    A collective shudder rolled through the group. Even Jo Boy twitched, and Tula nodded in satisfaction. He understood some of the lesson.
    “ Now, I want you all to go read the history pages I have up on your gamma pads. There will be a test tomorrow morning. ” Albert dismissed the children and Tula approached with Jo Boy in tow. The man smiled broadly, his focus on Tula even as he winked at Jo Boy. “ Hello, Tula. ”
    “ Hi, Albert. I ’ d like you to meet Jo Boy. ”
    “ Jobie. Welcome to the class. ” Albert always created pet names for the new converts that inevitably became their new identity within the Protectorate. “ Can you tell me one thing you learned about plants today? ”
    Jo Boy glowered from beneath his naked brow line at Albert. This was going to be a tough sell.
    “ Go on, Jo Boy. Use your words, ” Tula encouraged.
    “ Baad. ”
    She wasn ’ t sure if the single syllable was in regard to plants or to Jo Boy ’ s opinion of Albert. The smiling teacher seemed to have no doubts. “ Wonderful! You might be top of the class if you keep up the good work. Why don ’ t you go sit by Amaryllis? ” He called out to the girl. “ Amaryllis, please read the lesson out loud to Jobie, here. ”
    As Tula watched Jo Boy slouch toward the girl, Albert sidled close enough to rub shoulders and cocked his chin her way. “ You still seeing that good-for-nothing Burn Operative? What ’ s his name? Moo? ”
    “ Mo. ” She laughed. “ And, yes, I am. ” She and Albert had gone out for some time before she met Mo, a quiet, intelligent convert whose talent was wasted as a Burn Operative.
    “ I don ’ t know how you can stand the soot. And why hasn ’ t he given you any jewelry? If he expects to keep you, he ’ d better start putting his money where his mouth is. Mmmm. Has his mouth been here? ” He tickled a finger across her bare collarbone and wiggled his brows.
    Tula giggled and pulled away. “ Not in front of the kids, Albert. ” Even though she ’ d been converted nearly twenty years ago, she still fought the urge to cover her bare breasts. Photosynthesis only worked if the chloroplasts were exposed to light, so everyday Haldanian garb consisted of merely a loincloth or fringe skirt. Some extremists didn ’ t even bother with that much modesty.
    “ You never wear the bracelets I gave you. ” Albert put on a sulky face. “ And they ’ re not looking at us. Even Jobie has found something to occupy him. ” He nodded to where the boy had his entire body spread against the transparent wall as if he could push through to the skimmer on the other side.
    “ Oh, Jo Boy. No. Come here. Let ’ s read the lesson. ” She hurried to gather the child away from the glass, glad for the distraction.
    The fact was Mo had bought her jewelry. She had a whole case of necklaces, earrings, bracelets, rings, and anklets at home, from Mo and previous lovers. No self-respecting Haldanian ever bought jewelry for themselves, and the more bangles and baubles a person wore, the more loved he was perceived to be. But she couldn ’ t seem to embrace the ostentatious display.
    Mo understood. He was a convert, just like her. They both respected their photosynthesis too much to cover it, even with jewelry. To do so would be an insult to the conversion technology that had saved them. Albert was native Haldanian; for him, photosynthesis was like breathing. The only time she covered her skin was in the lab, when she donned a long coat to ward off the underground chill, and the coat ’ s material was so thin it was virtually transparent.
    As she coaxed Jo Boy away from the glass, a call came over the com system. “ Dr. Macoby, report to Confinement for briefing. ”
    With a glance at Albert, she grinned and patted Jo Boy goodbye. The call meant only one thing — potential converts were on the way.

    Amarantox Plains
    Across the river, an old road sliced a line through the dusty brown plains for as far as Levi could see. He stood at the threshold of an ancient trestle bridge spanning the wide channel between two cut banks of red-brown limestone. Water swamped the tamarisk along the shore, allowing only the gray-green tips of the fronds to sway above the current.
    Behind him, the crumbling remains of an old city lay buried in weeds. He ’ d had to resist the temptation to