Chapter 17: Greenhouse
Naomi and Sammy marched like white people through the endless corridors. Every wall was a translucent white, every light fixture a blurry mess, and every sign a jumble of confusing symbols. As they followed along, Naomi’s hand still cradled in Sammy’s, she could not help but be impressed by how big everything was. She wondered if evil could really just be the sum of a thousand good intentions with bad outcomes? She thought of the CEO, and she made her decision. Greed had caused this, and that greed was unforgivable.
“Which way should we go?” Sammy asked. Lost in her thoughts, Naomi had not realized they had come to a junction. Some people turned down a hallway; others continued straight ahead. How many halls had she missed?
“I guess keep following these guys,” she said.
The corridor gave way to a room filled with a hissing sound. Clear tubes corkscrewed from floor to ceiling, shooting off in every direction. The hissing escalated to a whoosh. A gray container shot through the tube next to them and went screaming away.
Naomi and Sammy left through doors that said “Ag + R&D Lab” and found themselves inside a glass dome. Above it rose a mirrored office building that Naomi could hardly look at, as the glass reflected the sun into her eyes.
“Where did all those tubes come from?” she asked.
“From the ceiling,” he said.
“I saw that,” she said. “But who’s sending all those canisters?”
Sammy didn’t have an answer.
Naomi turned away from the office building back to the glass dome. It was a patchwork of windows suspended in metal, like a turtle shell arched upward over a great field. Plants filled the field, and the white people plodded on a path through the center.
“Look at that,” Sammy said.
“What?” she said.
He pointed at the plants next to them. “Lettuce,” he said.
Naomi said the word to herself, as if testing it. “Lettuce,” she said. It was a funny word to say. She said it again. “Lettuce. I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said.
“We have pictures of it,” he said.
“It’s just leaves,” she said.
“They’re supposed to be good,” he said. “Clean, like a drink from a cold stream.”
Sammy moved down the path, stopping at the next row of plants.
“Cabbage,” he said. Pointing to a reddish version, he blurted out, “Purple cabbage.” She thought he would leap in the air.
“I thought these were all made up,” he said as he turned toward her, eyes wide with naked joy. He grabbed her shoulders so quickly that her heart jumped. “Do you know what this means?”
Before she could answer he wrapped his arms around her. She felt his thumping heart against her thumping heart, and her blood quickened. He pulled away, planting a kiss on her forehead. White splotches from her paste-up stuck like a moth on his lips.
He said, “We can live as farmers again. I told myself it was all a lie because I never thought we could have our old life back.”
She thought he would burst with happiness. “What’s that one?” she asked.
He turned. “Kale,” he said.
She pointed to another. “Cauliflower,” he chirped.
“It’s not a flower,” she said.
“It ain’t a collie either, but that is what it’s called.”
“That one,” she said.
“Bok choy.”
“And that?”
“Brussels sprouts.”
They trotted up the path now, Naomi pointing and Sammy reciting names. “Cucumber. Zucchini. Squash.” The words sounded strange in Naomi’s ears, like a foreign language.
“Squash,” she said. Again she pointed.
“Peas,” he said.
“Oh, please,” she said.
He stopped near stalks that were taller than a man and as skinny as a broom handle. The rows were so close together she thought she could get lost among them. Naomi wondered, if she ran in, would Sammy find her?
“Corn,” he called it. “You want to hear the joke about it?”
She nodded.
“Why should you never tell secrets in a corn field?”
“Why?”
“Because the corn has ears.”
“What does that even mean?” she said.
“The tops of the corn are called ears.” He leaned in, putting his lips close to her ear. “You eat the ears,” he said, as if sharing a secret.
“Tomatoes!” he shouted. She looked after him as he dashed a few steps, and stopped in front of a tomato plant. Red fist-shaped fruits hung from it. It was a wonder that the plant could stand with all those fists on it.
Sammy plucked one of the tomatoes. It came loose with a snap. He put the red flesh to his nose, and breathed in a deep, long breath.
“Here,” he said, holding it out to her. She took it and sniffed. A sweet smell, tinged with acid, filled her nostrils.
“Bite it,” he said.
“You first,” she said.
“No, you. I can wait.”
Naomi bit it. It tasted so good she couldn’t think of a way to describe its flavor. Maybe like swimming for the first time. Its insides spilled down her cheek.
She handed Sammy the tomato and he cradled it. He bit into it and his eyebrows went so high she thought they would leap off his head.
“The best thing ever,” he said. “Here,” he said, and handed it back. She held it tenderly, like a baby animal.
As he reached for another, his foot went off the path. The soil under him shook with a tiny earthquake. He pulled his foot away. Dirt sprang into the air, and Naomi felt as though she was falling as the ground turned sideways in a dusty poof.
“Ahhhhhh!” they yelled. A white person stood in profile, face and clothes dusted, a tomato plant sticking out from its back. They yelled again, “Ahhhhh!”
The white person turned. A paste tube hung from its mouth and television glasses dropped away from its eyes, wagging limply. It blinked its eyes at them.
They yelled again, “Ahhhhh!”
The white person opened its mouth. Paste fell out. Then it yelled, too. The three yelled, “Ahhhhh!”
More dirt leapt into the air and more people flanked the first, plants jutting from their backs, tomatoes hanging like bells.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” they all yelled into the moist air. All at once, everyone stopped yelling. Naomi grabbed Sammy’s shoulder, and pulled him away. The people blinked in unison. A shiver ran through each, powdering the air with dirt. They replanted themselves. Only the first person remained standing. Its mouth opening and closing like a fish. Its body ballooned. Naomi readied herself for another yell.
It exhaled a sound like, “Whhhhhhhhhooooo.” Then it was gone.
“Vegetables grow on white people,” she said.
“It don’t say that in the books,” he said.
“You think that’s a new thing?” she asked.
“It’s definitely not natural,” he said.
“Come, on,” she said, following after the crowd. Sammy didn’t move. She turned back.
“You okay, Sammy?” she asked. He didn’t move or say anything. She came towards him. “Sammy!” she shouted. He turned towards her, a blank expression on his face.
“Place gets stranger and stranger,” he said.
She cocked her head down the path. “We have to go.”
“Okay,” he said, but still he didn’t move. She pulled on his jumpsuit, and like he were un-sticking his feet from deep mud, he trudged along.
They passed other vegetables, but Sammy did not name them.