Extinct Doesn't Mean Forever by Phoenix Sullivan (bill gates book recommendations TXT) 📗

addiction. The bottle of Beppies still stood on the counter. Just one more to make sure. I dissolved it in the yellow water and helped him drink. His lips closed tight on the glass. Only a few drops spilled out this time. It was working.

I waited, studying the cupboards, counting the bottles again and again, trying not to look at Vin, just waiting. They had everything a Pharma could offer; not just Beppies and Sudo, but the really strong stuff like Vinerol and Slancol. Finally Vin moved, spluttering and coughing. I turned round in time to see his arms and legs twitch randomly. His eyes rolled wildly in his head. It was time to get him moving. I dragged him off the bed, half dropping him, half catching him, but winding up getting him mostly on his feet with his arm around my shoulders. I started moving, walking him around the room chanting: “Walk, Vin, walk.” His legs dragged helplessly at first, then began to sway, then make more purposeful movements. When he started to feel lighter against my shoulder, I figured he was taking some of his own weight and was ready for the corridors. I turned right out of the room as instructed, walking Vin along a long corridor of blank doors. The walls were lined with container after container of water. I turned right again at the end, more blank doors and more water. I kept walking — Nondo had said I couldn’t miss “the terrace.”

We came upon it suddenly, double doors opening out to our left into a large courtyard. I saw now that the building was a square, built around this open area, this extraordinary area. I didn’t know what to call it — Nondo’s “terrace” would have to do. It was green this place, all green. On the ground grew what looked like grass from my teacher’s photo. Rising everywhere out of the grass were the tall structures she said nobody could name — long brown poles, topped with that puffball of green. Unlike the ones in the picture, these green balls were dotted with color — red, orangish and peachy-colored bits in the shapes of balls, ovals, tiny marbles — all different. Some looked like Jufruits, others like Carnadines — like fruit, not growing in TubalChem but on these strange structures.

I heard a hiss of surprise from Vin, not quite in control of his mouth yet. A Metallo bench sat just outside the door, so I stepped through and dropped him down on it, then, out of breath, plopped down next to him, gazing at the greenness. Vin, still struggling for balance slumped against my shoulder and stayed there. The ground felt squishy under my feet, and I saw brown stuff oozing up between my toes. It felt soft and cool, not unlike the Silveral I’d just smeared over my skin.

The air smelled different here too. A little like the smell of fruit, but richer, darker somehow. And there was a gentle, fluttering noise from all around. The view, the sensation, the smell, the sounds — it all added up to something I hadn’t known in a long time. Peace.

I couldn’t see Nondo, but other older folk moved between the structures, some stroking them, others talking to them, some simply standing, looking.

Vin, still leaning heavily against me, muttered in a hoarse voice, “They’re mad”.

“Nice to hear from you, mano,” I whispered. “They saved your life. At least that one did.”

Nondo walked towards us through the greenery, smiling. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know what to think,” I said. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.” Vin said nothing.

Nondo rested an arm on the on the back of the bench beside me, looking out in the same direction I was. “I’m sure you haven’t. This is a garden. The green on the ground — that’s grass.” He pointed at the tall structures. “Those are trees, with branches and leaves. The smaller ones, bushes.All of them growing fruit.”

“I’ve never seen fruit look like that before.”

“No. These are antiques. Fruits people used to eat before TubalChem. The seeds for these were exported from Earth hundreds of years ago — by people who knew they wouldn’t survive to see them arrive. Others planted them, knowing they would never see them grow. Now we take care of them. A hobby. We have plenty of time. Or rather had plenty of time.

“Now it’s not a hobby any more, this garden. It’s our hope for the future. To grow our own food, to take shoots from what’s here and plant them elsewhere. If the electricity never comes back on — Don’t flinch like that, you’re obviously a bright young man. Who do you think is left who can fix the electricity station? Fix whatever’s wrong with the Vault? Nobody, I’m betting. And I’m pretty sure those thoughts have run through your head as well.”

They had. He looked down at me, flinty grey eyes fixed on my own. Reluctantly, I nodded.

“We could do with some help here. Some strength. Like you and your friend. To keep things growing, keep them healthy. Take the shoots and distribute them. Get over that river; share them with the Other Side. Stop the flinching. You know as well as I do that even if they don’t want us over there, that’s where our only hope lies. And with this garden, we may have something they want. There must be somebody over there who can understand what this means. Get something new started.”

I looked out at the garden. All I knew was that it was the freshest, cleanest thing I’d seen. Something I could never have imagined existed.

Nondo moved his hand from the bench to my shoulder. “You must be tired. Your friend too. He looks like the Beppies are taking effect. What you both need now is rest. We have 50 rooms here and only 30 residents — there’s plenty of space. Would you like to stay? And talk more tomorrow?”

Suddenly too tired to talk,