Welcome to Gaia! ::

First days have always been exciting and terrifying to me. This one was no different; I moved to Gaia from my previous home to accept a job working in a private arboretum...one that I had never seen in my life. And here I was, in front of the gate that held my future behind it. I looked down at the card in my hand. Barton Arboretum, 2842 Sullivan Rd. It matched the inscription on the stone plaque in front of me. This must be the place. I was early; the first rosy streaks of dawn were just creeping up to peer over the treetops behind me. I imagined what the entrance must look like when the sun rose over those same trees: The cast-iron gate with its intricate coils would glitter fiercely at any onlooker, while the light played over the millions of tiny leaves and blossoms contained behind the fence. Buds and open flowers of every hue and form would display their colors proudly, taking advantage of the sheltered protection of the arboretum. Yes, it must look wonderful. But I would have to look some other time; for now, I had a job to do.

Taking a key from my pocket, I applied it to a padlock holding the gate closed. It popped open with a quick jerk. I pushed lightly on the gate, and it swung open without a sound. Once through, I re-fastened the lock into place; the arboretum would not open to the public for another two hours. Ahead, there was a wide open area filled with so many varieties of flowers and shrubs that I could not have possibly named them all, despite my studies in plant nomenclature. Fortunately, each specimen had an ostentatiously-placed metal tag below it, specifying its common and scientific name. Well, that was lucky; at least I'd know what everything was. A large map of the arboretum stood to my right along with a plaque displaying the rules for visitors:



I checked the map for the best route to my destination: the North Arbor Greenhouse. There it was, at the very North edge of the gardens. Lucky thing I got here early; a good bit of the walk was uphill. After crossing a bridge over a meandering river and climbing uphill for longer than I would have liked, the ground finally leveled and I found myself looking at a small glass building. This greenhouse was tiny compared to the giant university research structures I was used to. Opening the door, a humid puff of warm air met my face. It smelled of potting soil and growing things, which made me smile. This was what I had come for, the reason I had accepted this job offer. Breeding plants was not only a hobby; it was my life.

Long tables filled the greenhouse, covered with green growing things. As I wandered through the aisles between tables of tropical plants, I reached out and felt their leaves and soil. They were all doing remarkably well; there was no sign of insect infestation or fungus, and the leaves were firm with turgor pressure. This was a very well-kept place. The smell and the heat had me in a world of my own, admiring the plants before me. I might not even have heard the voice, had it not been so utterly still inside the building.

"WATCH OUT!"

I froze, jolted back to reality, my eyes darting from side to side. Had I really heard a voice? No one was here but me. The room was completely empty. I had always been jumpy; friends from high school who knew I was ticklish had contrived to sneak up on me too often, leading to a kind of paranoia. I swept my gaze up and down the aisle, bending down to look under the tables as well. It was then I noticed an oily sheen on the floor in front of me where I had been about to step. I sniffed, and found the scent of fertilizer surfactant tingling my nose. Someone must have spilled it while mixing fertilizer. Huh...If I had stepped in that on this concrete floor I would have been laid out on my back. Probably with upset plant on top of my face. I could not help laughing at the picture of myself laying prone on the ground with a pot for a face. But where had the warning come from?

Straightening, I took stock of the room yet again. Still no one in sight. Again and again I turned. My mind just could not come to grips with what had happened. Then I heard the sound again; this time it sounded like...laughing!

"A bit daft, are we? Well, another new one. Maybe the heat's gotten into her."

I looked down at the table directly in front of me. And blinked. There was a thing...a fairy? But it had no wings...a girl, it seemed, sitting on the edge of a pot containing a single Philodendron leaf. It must have been a recent cutting. My eyes were trying to contort themselves inside their sockets, so I closed them again. I was going crazy. Too many years of heat and humidity. Hearing voices. Seeing things. I opened my eyes again and stared at the creature.

She seemed to notice that my eyes were focused on her and not the plant, because she gave a tiny squeak and disappeared so fast I wasn't sure she had been there at all. Then I saw her hiding behind the leaf in her pot.

"You...you can see me?" she trembled, wide-eyed as if it had never occurred to her before. "Hear me?"

I nodded. I had absolutely no idea what to do; it briefly occurred to me that I should call security, or grab some pesticides...but this was not something I knew how to deal with. Realizing my jaw was hanging and the plant was in danger of drowning in drool if I kept it there much longer, I shut my mouth and whispered as if afraid to blow her away.

"What are you?"

The tiny girl considered me for a moment. Apparently, she deemed me not to be an immediate threat. She did not come out from behind her leaf, but she did poke her head around the stem.

"I'm a Philodendron. Can't you read? The card says it, right there." Bobbing her head toward a card stuck in the soil of her pot, she had an incredulous expression on her face, as if she could not believe anyone could be so daft. The absurdity of the comment was too much. I could not keep myself from laughing out loud at the tiny creature. Apparently, she took exception to this, because she released the stem and came forward a few steps.

"And just why is that funny? It's a perfectly respectable species!" Her tiny green eyes flared, which only made me want to laugh harder. I curbed my amusement for her sake, though my eyes still twinkled.

"It's just that I've never encountered anything...anyone...like you. Are you part of the plant, then?"

Her eyes quieted and her manor became more shy. "Yes...and no. I can leave my pot for awhile. But not for a long time. Usually people don't see us; they don't think we exist. I've never met one who could see me before."

I was amazed. I had just met a plant...or its spirit, or whatever exactly it was that she was. My new coworkers would never believe it! ...which was probably literally true. It was my first day on the job. If I came bolting into the rec room babbling about plant spirits, they'd write me off as batty and I'd probably be fired within the week. So, I kept the secret to myself. Every day I visited with Philodendron, whom I had nicknamed Phili, and we talked about how she lived and how I lived, as well as many other things. The outside world was new to her; she had been born inside the arboretum. I wondered how many others there were here like her; little did I know I was soon to find out.