While my soul-tree was pulling an Iron Man, I decided to just watch. No, not literally pull an Iron Man, but damn close enough. Right in the middle of my soul-tree’s chest pulsing with a soft bluish white light, strands of wiry metal ran throughout its form like another circulatory system laid over top of its skin. The silvery fibers contoured every bark covered muscle while forming small plates of armor at the knees, elbows, and shoulders. And I kept watching, making sure to keep a close magical eye on everything. Even though I circumvented the “Sorcerer Killing” process of the Centauri tech, I didn’t trust it, which meant I had to verify over and over again. Every inch of growing fiber was examined as if it were literal cancer; I even set up a background scanning process devoted to monitoring the bonded nano-tech. Hours of frantic waiting later, I managed to put some faith in myself and take a break. The auto-scan set up with my consciousness sorcery had my soul-tree completely mapped out and I built in a ‘freeze and alert’ alarm just in case it made a move I didn’t like.
Coming back to myself was not a pleasant process. The extended soul-twisting meditation was even more exhausting than battling the witch and downloading Reeanth’s clone brain combined. I’ve made some damn good progress in the past couple weeks, including figuring out a way to defend myself against my personal weakness. I looked lovingly at Gungnir, peering magically inside of it to look at the Centauri rifle. I hadn’t actually figured it out, but I could use the rifle itself, and Gungnir could still shoot the crystal rounds just like an actual gun. Figuring that that was good enough for now, I turned my attention to the rest of the Lab.
One of the goals that I had had back when I was a normal vanilla human was to have my own personal greenhouse jungle. I wanted to be able to walk into a building filled with awesome edible plants, my own ecosystem thriving under my care with exotic fruits and veggies covering every square inch. To be transparent, it was all in the pursuit of the perfect smoothie. I had scoured every Smoothie King, Jamba Juice, and Orange Julius hunting for the perfect blend of icy goodness, but nowhere had the perfect smoothie. I even went and explored all the Amish stores that southern Virginia had to offer, and while they were good and some even great, they just weren’t perfect. Which is where my aspirations of a greenhouse came in. If I couldn’t find the perfect smoothie, then I’d have to make one.
As the apocalypse reordered my priorities, surviving took the top spot and smoothies took their necessary place far lower than that, but I needed something to keep me going. Obviously fooling around with my fiance was out of the question for the next couple millenia, and all of my friends were fucking gone, that left pleasurable projects that don’t require too much overt brainpower, such as what men normally did like working on cars or carpentry. But since both of those options were out of the picture due to the post-apocalyptic conditions, making a greenhouse or jungle definitely more likely to be in the realm of possibility.
I could take a week or so and try to relax. Hell, I deserved it! And honestly, I could probably make a damn fruit jungle in a week if I wanted to. What else is nature sorcery good for if not for the pursuit of the ultimate frozen fruit confection? Buoyed with thoughts not filled with death or danger, I purposefully strut out of the Lab, down the tunnel, and out the Hole. Darkness barely illuminated by the dancing stars greeted me as I took a deep breath of fresh air.
“Greetings Master!”
Meliad’s sweet voice was not what I wanted to hear at this damn time of day, or night since I completely lost track of the hour. Yes, consciousness sorcery has an internal clock but I didn’t bother to check it in my excitement.
“Aren’t humans usually in the soft embrace of the little death right when the sun hides his face?”
“Sleep, Meliad, it’s called sleep.”
Her pout at being corrected didn’t stop me from glaring at her.
“And I’m gonna do whatever the hell I want when I want. Now, I’d bet you have a bunch of young dryads who’d love to help me out if I asked them to, right?”
Her sultry smile and curvy figure brightened in the starlight giving off a soft green glow. “But of course! I can have a grove here by the dawn’s loving light if you wish! I’ll make sure they’re the prettiest of . . .”
“Nope,” I interrupted, “It’s not for me. I don’t care what they look like. No banging dryads for me unless you want to piss off that root of Yggdrasil over there.”
Her face was devastating, that pout, oh my god. I almost couldn’t resist.
“Not kidding woman, just need a couple tree-ladies to tend the garden that I wanna make.”
“But not partake of nature’s bounty? It’s freely offered, and the Mother is never stingy with what is hers. Sharing is nature’s way!”
I rounded on creature who was clearly more knowledgeable about the carnal side of man than the restrained side.
“It’s not about that,” I growled at her, “Nature also eats itself and anything that is weak. Also, it’s the fact that I don’t want to. Sure, using flesh sorcery to suppress my sex drive is a bit of a cheat that no man would ever have the chance to use let alone even think of it that way. But it’s more than that. When I date or fuck, I date or fuck one at a time. I don’t have the time or energy for more than one woman at a time; that’s just too much energy let alone the money and focus. I had friends who could date or be with several at a time but I couldn’t. And what makes it worse is that I know it’ll take a long ass time to see my woman again and I’ll probably have a girlfriend as the ages drag on, but not right now. It’s still too fucking soon.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
My rant didn’t just silence her, but shamed her. I could see it in her doe eyes, the bewilderment at my reaction combined with her puzzlement at the kind of man that would turn her down. I mean, yes, I’d love to have a good roll in the hay, and it would probably help me out in a bunch of ways, but I couldn’t do that right under the awning of my future wife. I’m fucked up, but not that fucked up, at least for now. And it’s weird to divulge my thoughts in such a blatant manner, but somehow my guard was down. Must be the stress.
Watching me like a feral cat that discovered that children like to pull on tempting tails, she backed up and I visibly relaxed. With a slow formal bow, Meliad gracefully conceded my position and took a step back. “My deepest apologies Master. I did not know the depths of your pain nor the anguish in your heart. I will gather the dryads for your garden and let them know of your will. We shall commune with the Mother in the morning. Please, rest. Nothing but peace shall enter here.” A calm night breeze picked up as Meliad dissolved into green motes, leaving me to my thoughts.
“Stupid, root.” Gravelly words broke the silence. “All, of, them. They, do, not, think.”
Turning off to the side, I saw a big boulder that wasn’t there before. “Everest? That you buddy?”
His eyes glowed red, but it wasn’t creepy like the horror movies always made red out to be. The rubies were clear and their edges were octagonal in shape, making it almost look comically like a lava lamp stuck in a rock.
“Roots, don’t, think. Rocks, do. It’s, our, hobby.”
I chuckled at the simplistic thoughts of my guardian golem. I suppose that from his point of view we were all a bit lacking in the thinking department, especially since they get most of eternity to think. What else are earth elementals good for if not pondering heavy thoughts? Maybe to them, we’re just momentary distractions as they endure the turning of the seasons. I’m just glad he didn’t call me a ‘root’. Hell, I’d ask for some of his thoughts if I didn’t know it would take forever to get them out of him.
“Thanks man,” I chuckled, turning to survey the area in the dim light of the moon. No hamadryads in sight. Spot wasn’t even in his normal spot at the edge of the clearing. It’s hard for me to look around and believe that this entire area was one big suburb. My house was right behind me under the freaking World Tree, and there were two houses to the right and ten to the left. Behind our houses were little yards with what my fiance would have called ‘cute’ fences. Even further behind that was a nice dog park and a jungle gym for the neighborhood kids to plan on. Now, it was just one big ass forest. The small Rappahanock river two miles from my residence was several times wider and deeper than before, and even the fancy museums and little shoppettes of downtown Fredericksburg were now rolling hills and epic rock formations.
Squatting down in the middle of the clearing in front of the Hole, I used a bit of earth and nature sorcery to make a comfortable lawn chair with the perfect amount of incline to it. Gingerly testing it out, I placed my derriere right in the proper curve. Ahh, sweet heaven, think ‘Hobbit’. The basic structure was stone, but the portions of the chair facing up were hardened clay with softer clay on top of it with a layer of soft grass that any country club would be proud to have as their green. It was a cross between a nice beach chair and the most comfy lawn chair. Before I knew it, I was out.
Sunlight woke me up in the usual fashion, shafts of piercing light knocking on my eyelids as if they just didn’t give a fuck. Birds chirping joined the choreography of pain as my ears also decided not to let me sleep. I did love mornings, but only after I had gone through the disgusting problem of waking up over the course of an hour, or that’s how I used to handle mornings. Now I just used the elemental powers of the universe to perk me up and take care of the cleaning stuff too.
With my morning ablutions completed, the entire day stretched ahead of me like a fat ice cream cake, one of the many foods I constantly daydream about, smooth and full of delicious promise while still holding the promise of quickly melting faster than hoped for.
“He’s shorter than I thought he’d be . . . “
“Does he always wear armor? Can’t even see if he has muscles . . .”
“Does it matter? Meliad clearly said he’s off limits.”
The voices were sweet, softer than any human tones but I clearly understood their dulcet language that sounded like a blend of Spanish and Old English. Turning my head, I saw several women reminiscent of Meliad straddling the horizontal branch of the oak tree at the edge of the clearing. My gardeners had arrived. All the jokes about picking them up at a Wal-Mart bounced off my teeth as I knew they wouldn’t get it. They had the lovely Latina curves from what I could tell but if their conversation was anything to go by then they’d probably be just as much trouble.
“You’re right, it doesn’t matter.” My voice scared one of them so badly she almost fell out of the tree. “You’re here to work, and that’s it. I already know that you’re getting a serious leg up on your rival groves.” I’m definitely spitballin, but there’s a solid chance I’m right. When in doubt, act with confidence. Sheep will fall in line and the wolves will be kept at bay by the simple fact of having more power than them. The leafiest of the dryads smacked her sister so that she almost fell out of the tree.
“He’s a nature sorcerer you tangled branch! Uhg, you should have been grafted to a vine for all the good you are!”
“Hey! Not everyone gets to pick where they’re planted! Some of us had to work for our trees!”
Great. Plant-based arguments, just what I wanted to hear. After listening for a minute, I waited to see if the forest ladies had any semblance of human perception in regards to social situations. Their bickering told me either no, or they were like human females just enough so that they just didn’t care that there was an oblivious human male in their midst. Sending a bit of power into the tree that they were sitting on, I caused the branch to buck wildly sending them roughly to the forest floor.
“Anyone else want to pointlessly argue in front of their boss or should I have Meliad find me more useful, less talkative creatures?” My wry tone was lost on them as they started tearing up. Quivering lips and shaking limbs as they picked themselves did not sway me, mostly. Throwing themselves at my feet, their pleading was almost more irritating than their attempts at using their feminine wiles. It was like a group of kids all trying to tell you the same story of how one of them horribly skinned their knee but you can’t make out a freaking word.
My forced glare eventually shut them and blessed silence reigned once again in the clearing. My patience was definitely thinner than it was twenty minutes ago, but now I at least had their attention.
“Look, uh, ladies? I guess? I’m a simple guy with a simple vision. I want all of you to make a jungle where every plant is edible AND delicious. I’ll show you the area that I’m intending for this venture but I basically want to be able to walk through and pick fruit off the trees at all times of the year and enjoy it. New and exotic fruits are perfectly fine to put in here, and if you need anything let me know. But I need to have a place that is all mine where I can relax and there’s nothing but peace. Does that sound like something y'all can do?”
Their puzzled looks were so cute but not very effective, praise be for fuckin flesh sorcery.
“A yes or no will suffice, a nod of the head, some kind of affirmation would be nice . . .”
Their effusive agreement was again in the vein of multiple children all talking at once.
“Good good, all right, sheesh, QUIET!” Taking a breath to just to give myself a second, I pivoted to take them on a tour of the proposed site of my future smoothie jungle.