Two days later, they were done with their crash course in agricultural sciences and were ready for their next subject. They met at the Glasshouse, which seemed to be the center of everything at the Institute Now that she had time to look around, Flora noticed that the Glasshouse wasn’t completely sealed at the top. A small gap between the mountains and the domed glass ceiling allowed water collected from the ceiling and the mountains to enter the valley through four main streams, much like how the ring of mountains surrounding Terrene provided water for its aqueducts. Branches from these streams brought water to the abundant plant life spread throughout the valley. The main streams continued into holes in the mountainside that must feed the numerous rooms inside the mountains.
Master Nerdu entered the Glasshouse with a younger scholar who shuffled behind him carrying a large box in his arms. Nerdu did not wear the elaborate blue scarf that was the mark of his station, choosing instead to wear a simple gray robe. He sat down on the grass in front of their group and folded his arms in his lap. Flora noticed that his robe wasn’t gray as she had first thought. It was a standard white robe that had gotten almost uniformly dirty.
“Welcome,” he said softly. “I am here to introduce you to the art of tool-making. Tools give humans abilities far beyond what we can accomplish with just our hands and our feet.” He wiggled his fingers and toes to demonstrate. “Where agriculture provides sustenance, tools provide shelter, heat, and the ability to progress our knowledge. I have asked you here to show you the largest and greatest tool every made.”
“Is it in the box?” asked Flora eagerly.
“It can’t be that great if it’s in such a small box,” Stalk added.
“No, young apprentices,” Nerdu responded. “It’s much bigger than this box.”
Flora looked around but couldn’t see anything that looked like a tool.
“The aqueducts?” Garland suggested. Flora consciously didn’t glance his way. She decided that nothing had happened their first night here. Garland hadn’t said anything, so neither would she. But maybe part of her wished that something had.
“I had not intended this to become a guessing game,” Nerdu said. “But very well. You are close. The aqueducts are certainly relevant.”
“My brain’s pretty big,” Bunsen muttered under his breath jokingly without looking up from the potted plant he held cradled in his arms.
“It is certainly bigger than your brain,” Nerdu responded sharply. Bunsen blushed, just now realizing that he had said his thought out loud.
“I mean, uh,” he stammered.
“I think he meant his stomach,” Crick chimed in. “It’s certainly bigger than his brain.”
“The Institute’s biggest tool,” Master Nerdu announced, drawing out every last word,” is the Institute.”
Stalk rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath, but Flora couldn’t hear what he said.
Master Nerdu either didn’t notice or just ignored him. “Look around you.” He gestured broadly with his right arm. “Right here... This is the heart of the Institute, it’s core.”
Flora looked closely at the plants that grew all along the lower slopes of the mountains. All she could see was a dense array of giant green leaves. She couldn’t see anything that really looked like a tool like the giant clock tower in Terrene.
“This fertile valley provides water, nutrients, and energy in the form of sunlight. The leaves you see here belong to a network of plants grafted together into a single organism. These leaves provide energy to all the plant life that you see inside the Institute caverns. Over the centuries, we have grown this organism to provide light, heat, fresh air, and beauty to the inner rooms. As much as anything else, this plant before you is the Institute.”
“Wait, you’re saying that the lights in my room are directly connected to that leaf over there?” asked Crick.
“I am,” Nerdu asserted.
“That’s amazing,” Flora whispered.
“I was wondering how they managed to keep plants alive in the caves,” Aster enthused.
“Yes, this one plant has allowed us to expand deep into the mountains. The vines you see running through all the hallways are really part of the plant’s root system that has been modified for this purpose. Other plants that we need for fresh air, heat, light, and decorations are grafted onto the root and receive the energy and nutrients they need from the root.”
“How old is the plant?” asked Bunsen, suddenly attentive. “What if it dies?”
“We call the plant, Pater, and he is at least four hundred years old,” explained Nerdu patiently. “Since Pater is really an amalgamate of thousands of other plants, parts of him are always dying and being replaced. But as a result, the whole plant will never die.”
They spent the next couple of hours walking amongst the leaves of the giant plant and learning how new plants were grown separately and then later joined to Pater. They gathered some flower stems and then followed one of the main bundles of roots into the caves. Along the way, Nerdu cut one of the tiny branches off of the root and tied one of the flower stems on in its place. “This is how we decorate here at the Institute,” he said chuckling.
Nerdu finally opened the box that his assistant had been carrying all day. Inside was a large variety of plants that had been harvested from all over the area. “Here, take these,” he said to the cohort. “Decorate your rooms with these, and I’ll meet you after lunch.”
Flora, Aster, and Kava spent the next hour gladly grafting a whole host of flowers onto the roots that spanned their room. Their once-drab room was now filled with bright pinks and purples. Aster found that they could actually move the roots around as well as long as they were careful. They braced one of the roots so that it made an arch over their heads and decorated the arch with white flowers. They were having so much fun that they almost missed lunch, which was served promptly at noon every day in the dining cavern.
After lunch, Master Nerdu met them at their rooms. “Come, follow me,” he said. “Now I’ll show you what small tools we can make.”
They followed Nerdu down several corridors, ending up in a room about half the size of the agriculture lab. Like the agriculture lab, this room had natural light that filtered in from holes in the ceiling to provide energy for the vegetation all over the walls. Several older scholars wearing blue scarves were sitting at a row of desks along the left wall. They were drawing on polished surfaces using ink stalks similar to the ones that Flora and Mendel used in class back at Southern Cross.
On the other side of the room, two younger scholars with yellow scarves sat quietly, seemingly doing nothing. They were separated from the first row by several glass panels, irregularly shaped and five feet in height. The glass was imperfect, an imperfection Flora found to be beautiful. She loved the way the light formed ripples across its wavy surface. Each surface was different, like her.
“This is where the senior scholars in the Department of Tools work on new designs,” Nerdu explained. “The junior scholars and apprentices spend most of their time preparing materials. Tomorrow I’ll show you how to shape and harvest hardwoods from our fields outside. I’ll also show you how we collect vegetation for the fires to make glass and metal, our most precious materials. We recycle all of our glass and metal and heavily restrict their usage. We can create more glass if needed, but we have no new supply of metal.”
Flora nodded. Glass and metal were almost unheard of in Terrene. The glasses they had drunk from at the celebration several nights ago were more valuable than everything her family owned. The presence of so much glass and metal at the Institute struck her as almost ostentatious.
“Can we see how glass and metal are made?” asked Aster.
“That will have to wait until much later,” Nerdu said. “We use fire very sparingly and only light the forges once every month to fix whatever laboratory equipment is broken. So please be careful with any tools you end up using in the future. If you break something
, it may take a lifetime of work to replace, and each of you has only one lifetime to give.”
Flora watched as one of the senior scholars on the left got up and wrote a string of numbers and symbols on one of the glass panels using a special pen that hung right next to the glass panel. The two younger scholars on the other side got up and picked up pens that were hanging on their side of the panel and began writing next to and below the first scholar’s markings. “What’s going on there?” asked Flora.
“Oh, those are Quants, scholars from the Department of Mathematics,” explained Nerdu. “The senior tool designers use them to solve mathematical problems as needed while they work on their designs. This makes their job much easier.”
“Wait. They’re writing backwards!” Mendel said. And indeed they were. The quants were writing quickly from right to left. The quant closer to them circled a number at the bottom, pumped his fist and then strolled back to his chair. Moments later, the other quant also circled a number and looked at his companion’s work, checking to make sure that they had gotten the same answer.
“Yes, they write backwards so that, to the scholar on the other side, everything appears correctly,” Nerdu explained. “The senior scholars in the other departments are also allowed to use quants. They always work in pairs to prevent errors.”
Nerdu then allowed Flora and the others to look over the shoulders of the senior scholars. For the next few hours, they watched as the scholars worked on problems ranging from designing special tools for the agriculture laboratory to planning an expansion of the solar-capture area for Pater’s leaf section. While several of the others in her cohort were excitedly soaking up the information, Flora found that she just couldn’t concentrate anymore. Her dreams about Jane were leaving little room in her head for all the new information that was being thrown at her. The next few days would prove even harder still.
************
Their introduction to the Department of Mathematics resulted in the most boring two days of Flora’s life. Her only consolation was that Master Mishna Vahn had them meet in a small room well above the meadow of the Glasshouse. The room had a window which was really just a hole in the wall that looked out onto the Glasshouse grounds. The view easily made up for the nearly vertical flight of stairs they had to surmount in order to get there.
Master Vahn spoke so softly that Flora could barely make out what she was saying. As a result, Flora soon stopped listening and instead let her eyes wander around the room. Mendel appeared very attentive, hanging on Vahn’s every word. Sure, Mendel loved mathematics, but Flora suspected that he was mostly mesmerized by Master Vahn’s pretty pale face and long flowing hair. Flora imagined herself tossing her beautiful blond hair while Mendel stared at her dumbfounded. She smiled. What power. Then she caught Garland looking at Master Vahn the same way, and her smile quickly inverted.
Flora tuned in to catch Vahn saying, “...purpose is the most pure of all: the study of mathematics for the sake of knowledge and truth. As grand as our goals are, our numbers are small. And we must also pay for our keep. Thus, all but the senior-most scholars must spend four out of five days working as quants, reserving only the last day for uninterrupted study.”
Uninterrupted study? Flora thought she would die if she ended up in the Department of Mathematics. She couldn’t help but notice the grin on Mendel’s face.
“Today, we will work on our mathematics skills,” continued Master Vahn.
Flora suffered through several hours of mathematics problems. The next day was even worse. They were forced to work on mathematics problems while writing backwards.
“A quant does not write backwards just for the convenience of the other scholars,” explained Vahn as Mendel nodded his head so hard that it looked like it was going to fall off. “It is an exercise that frees our minds, for we must be able to move backwards as well as forwards through a problem in order to appreciate its intricacies. Single directional linear thinking is a limitation of the simple minded.” Then Vahn turned to Mendel. “I believe at least one of you may have some potential.”
Thus it was with great glee that two days later, Flora showed up to her first day with Morgan Romulus, head of Governance and Security.
When Romulus walked into the room, Flora’s heart fluttered. He was dressed to impress, wearing the same formal robes that he wore on their first night here. Two scholars walked on either side of him, marching one step behind him. They wore serious expressions on their faces to match the formality of their blood red scarves that hung neatly from their necks.
“I faithfully present to you, Master Morgan Romulus,” the one on the left barked, snapping to attention.
“Thank you Thomas, you may relax,” Romulus said graciously. “I am honored to introduce you to the Department of Governance and Security here at the Institute.” He gave a slight bow.
“Our work here is to preserve order. Without order, human civilization falls into chaos, and in that chaos, all other knowledge is lost.” Romulus spoke with great drama in his voice, his hand gesturing with the rhythm of his words. “In fact, it was over four hundred years ago, in a moment of chaos, that the Institute was founded. In those times of chaos, much of our knowledge was lost and people descended into violence. It took the extraordinary wisdom and strength of our founders to create the Institute which has protected and expanded that knowledge for centuries.
“This department is responsible for the preservation of our society and is thus the largest of any department in the Institute.” Flora could see the pride in his eyes, hear the strength of his conviction in his voice. Perhaps she would be an apprentice here. “We are responsible for the governance of the Institute. This includes the logistics and planning required to ensure we have adequate food, jobs, and accommodations for everyone here. We ensure fairness for all scholars and enforce the rule of law. And finally, we are the liaisons to Terrene, ensuring that we provide guidance and support to the valley. In fact, our department is most similar to the Mayor’s office in Terrene.”
“Does that make you the Mayor of the Institute?” Garland asked.
Flora thought she saw a frown flash onto Romulus’ face, but it was quickly replaced with a warm smile. “No, son,” he responded. “We don’t have a Mayor. The Institute is guided by its five heads under the final authority of the Grandmaster, which in our case is Grandmaster Sagerius.”
“And how is the Grandmaster chosen?” asked Crick. Flora could believe that Crick was already gunning for that job.
“Tradition dictates that the head of the Department of History shall be the Grandmaster of the Institute,” replied Romulus. “But we should not be worrying ourselves about titles. Instead, think about your own contribution to the Institute. Follow me, and I will show you how the dedication and discipline of our scholars keep the Institute running. Apprentices in our department will join one of several subunits: security, logistics, and relations.”
They spent the rest of the day touring each of the subunits and hearing from the scholars who worked in those units. Everyone seemed excited and motivated by their work. Flora finally found that she had no trouble paying attention.
************
“Look lively, recruits! I have a special treat for you all today,” Romulus said by introduction. He had met them outside their rooms in the morning and was now taking them on a seemingly random path through the Institute hallways. Flora was finally beginning to understand the layout of caverns and hallways in the Institute. Their rooms were on a circular hallway around the Glasshouse near the lowest point of the Institute. Five main pathways led radially out from this circular hallway up into the Glasshouse and outwards as well. Then off of these main paths, small hallways sprouted off in all directions. Staircases spiraled upward to bring cavern laboratories and other rooms closer to the outside sun. She didn’t know where all the pathways led, but at least she knew that if she kept heading downwards she would run into the circular track where her room was located. r />
Today they walked down one of the pathways that led away from the Glasshouse. It was a different path than the one they had used to first enter the Institute. Soon Flora saw reflected sunlight illuminating their path. They were going outside!
The hallway became larger, eventually opening out into a large field of grass. Near the entrance of the cave, still sheltered by the rock ceiling, were a dozen large wooden pens. And in some of the pens, Flora saw horses! Unable to control herself, she ran over to the stables to look at the horses up close. There were eight of them of different sizes and colors. But what caught Flora’s eye was a large white stallion who stood proudly in one of the center stables, munching on some feed. The stallion perked up when Flora approached and brought his head up right next to Flora’s nose.
“Careful there,” Romulus warned. “That’s Blizzard. He can get aggressive around people he doesn’t know. Take a few steps backwards.”
Flora reluctantly complied.
“Here at the Institute we keep a dozen horses,” Romulus explained to the whole group. “We use them primarily for travel to and from Terrene and for emergencies. On occasion, one of the other groups will ask for the use of a horse. My department deals with these requests on a case by case basis. Chase, please bring Charger up.”
In Flora’s excitement she hadn’t even noticed that Chase was in the stables, caring for the horses. He led a giant black stallion out of the stables towards Romulus. Charger was lean and muscular and easily eight feet tall. Romulus gracefully leapt onto his bare back. He whispered into Charger’s ear, and then they were off. They galloped out into the field at amazing speed, making a loop around the meadow before coming back.
Romulus addressed them from horseback. “Behold the power and beauty of horses,” he said grandly from horseback, unwinded from the ride. He swung his right foot over the stallion’s back and gracefully dismounted. Chase fed some treats to the horse and led him back to the stable. “The riding horses are usually reserved for scholars who serve in the security forces,” he continued. “But today, perhaps, I’ll make an exception.”