Contributing Author: Miles English

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Trey followed along and watched her work, utterly dumbfounded. When did she arrive? He couldn't say. He was falling to the ground one minute, surrounded by the beaten and broken forms of Vice Roid, Cratherine, and Tater Tot, and then… she was there, tending to the flowers.

Tater Tot was kneeling serenely, unblinking, with tears of frying oil running down his face. Vice Roid lay on his back in stunned silence while snaking vines slithered through his flesh, fixing his wounds and replacing his extra muscles with the body parts they'd grown from. Cratherine, too, knelt respectfully, despite her robotic form. Every now and then, she’d convert her fingertips into a pair of scissors and use them to prune off new shoots of potato plants trying to grow out of Tater Tot's skin.

As for Trey, he wore a pair of rubber gloves and followed in Her wake, filling garbage bags with trash that She unearthed with her endless digging. They hadn't been at it all that long. Five minutes, maybe? But looking back toward the botanical garden’s entrance, he saw thirty-four trash bags that he'd already filled, piled high into the air.

The garden had been completely covered in trash before, like most of New City. Every public space seemed more debris and discard than open ground. It was profound, in a way, to be helping to create the first open space that was beautiful.

She moved through the rows of unhealthy, miserable greens in concrete standing beds, and transformed them utterly. The flowers and plants grew tall and wild. Flowering vines of every color hung down from the greenhouse’s ceiling, to land in a chaos of bushes and ferns and trees. To call it greenery would be a misnomer. Here, every color known to man sparkled with promise, character, and wonder.

Above it all, rose a great statue of Her. It was no statue of dead stone, but a huge green face of leaves. She was peering down at something held in her palm, with love in her eyes. Her palm burbled up as a fountain, with water cascading down to give life to the garden.

There hadn’t been a fountain here before. She’d grown it, like everything else.

"Hand me the trowel, would you dear?" she asked.

"Sure, I mean, of course," said Trey, picking up an ordinary gardening hand-shovel and giving it to her. Even that near-contact sent tremors of excitement down his spine.

It would be impossible to draw his eyes away from the garden in normal circumstances, but even with all the beauty surrounding them, he could scarcely look away from Her.

She moved and talked like a sweet old lady, but she looked young, like the permanent youth of spring. She was vibrant; a little more real than the rest of reality, even though he wasn't sure if she was even really here at all or if this was all some kind of fever dream. He hesitated to call her by her name. Just one name could do nothing to capture what he was witnessing.

Now he knew why all the aphids kept inventing new names for her.

"So. What do you think of my children so far?" she asked.

"I can't give just one answer. I can't group them together like that. They're all different."

She closed her eyes, as if savoring his response. "A perfect answer. You see now, why you're the right person for this."

"Not to be a contrarian, but I really don't," said Trey. "I'm just, like, a guy. Not even a very good guy. If anything I'm on the poor side of average."

She kept working on the garden. It had been rife with weeds before, but he never saw her pull any of them out. He wondered if there even was such a thing as a weed in her eyes.

"Let me tell you a story. It's about you. When you were eleven years old your parents signed you up for football. You remember?"

He remembered. He'd sucked. He couldn't do anything right. That year had been miserable, but his parents had made him stick it out, though he could see in their faces how much it pained them to show up to his games just to watch him sit on a bench for three-quarters of the game and then totally suck for the rest.

The first of a lifetime of failures.

"You weren't very good. But I wonder if you're really being fair to yourself. Is the way you remember it the way it really happened? I don't mean to be condescending, it's only that I have the ability to examine this experience in more detail than you do. Those other kids, the ones who played, they'd all been playing for years. Did you know that?"

"I guess that makes sense," said Trey. He glanced down in embarrassment, only to accidentally stare directly at the rolling hills instead. Hills that hadn’t been there before, but were full of thriving, green grass.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

"Thirsty?" she asked, and handed him a frosted glass, sugar on the rim, with a lemon slice.

He took a sip. It was lemonade, only the most perfect glass of anything he'd ever taken. And she was right; he had been thirsty. "Thanks."

"They were better. They had more experience, so they got to play more. And since they played more, they got even more experience. An upward spiral for them. A downward spiral for you. Only, there's something you didn't see. You were improving. You were talented, and you were getting better, even with that polluted water and weak sunlight. If your parents had let you stay on another year, you would've been a starter. By the time you got to high school, you would’ve been their best player."

That seemed impossible, but she wouldn't lie. "How much different would my life have been, do you think?"

She smiled. "You would have had a solid group of friends throughout your adolescence, maybe even into adulthood. You would've had more confidence and you'd be in better shape. You'd also have slightly lower intelligence, due to repeated concussions. Who knows what you could have become?"

Trey laughed. "It's weird, but that actually makes me feel a bit better about my life."

Her eyes sparkled. "I know. The story is about you, but it's also about my children. Do you see? They've been called failures. Some of them still believe that of themselves. But they are great. I can tell. I am the coach. I am putting them in. I’m putting you in, too."

She clinked her glass of lemonade against his.

Sensing a toast was in order, he said, "For victory."

"For the life you didn't live before. For friends, love, growth, and moderate to severe brain damage!"

He laughed, not really sure if she was serious or not.

She put her fist into her hand. "Now, I believe I owe you an additional reward for completing your Quest. "

"You don't have to–I already got… well, [Awareness] isn’t that great, is it?"

"It is. And it will only get better. But I do need to give you something extra. You went above and beyond here, defending this garden," she said firmly.

"So, I’ve awakened the seed inside you. Which means I’ve helped you to awaken your... soul force? I suppose? This language is imprecise for these matters. Your superpower, let's say. Everyone has one. Yours is based on adaptability. Over time, the more you work with an aphid, the more you'll be able to copy their power, even when they aren't 'driving', so to speak. I'll also give you Disadaptability. This one is more advanced, and it will take you longer to understand. But the gist of it is this: You are a free, living soul, so you must have the power to resist. This will give you the ability to cancel out your aphids power, to some degree. You’ll be able to manifest their power, but opposite. What that means will vary based on the aphid, of course. And, since I don't have a hundred years to let you grow your [Awareness] gradually, I'm going to do this."

Several pop ups, much like the one that showed up for his Quest alert, appeared in his vision.

[STATUS]

- [Name]: Trey Goodkind

- [Age]: 25

- [Race]: Human

- [Favorite Food]: Pizza

[ABILITIES]

- [Awareness]: You see a little deeper into the world around you.

- [Adaptability]: You can use the power of your synergetic companions as your own. Consult the [Adaptabilities] tab for more information (unavailable).

- [Disadaptability]: You can use the opposite of the power of your synergetic companions. Consult the [Disadaptabilities] tab for more information (unavailable).

[APHID SYNCHRONIZATION]

- 27.14% | (G) Geneva, the Great Master of Clockwork

- 08.66% | (F) Flamagan the Magnificent

- 17.55% | (D) Doug, the Clandestine King

- 19.68% | (R) Æn Ryzm

- 00.14% | (N) The Nameless One

- 00.00% | (Z) Daizy

- 10.07% | (C) Connor

- 00.10% | (W) Weenie Bob

"Aphid Synchronization, as you’ve come to expect, represents your bond with each of my children. It also represents how much of each aphid's power you’re able to draw out," she said.

She bent over her garden again, dirtying her hands, moving the world, making it magical. "You're probably wondering why I do this work myself? Well, of course I want to do the fun part myself. My aphids humor me, the sweeties. This is a safe place, now, and even weakened though I am, I can work here. Beetlebub will not be able to harm a single leaf of this garden while you yet live. Come back here to strategize, to socialize, to rest. But do not dawdle overlong. Even this garden will fall if the world that it's sitting on burns to dust."

She wiped her brow with the back of her hand, and it left a streak of mud across her forehead. "Now, you should turn your attention to the casino. I'll give you a Quest; not to worry. Be warned: This next task won't be as simple as running around fighting everyone you meet. You'll need to use subterfuge and cunning to win the day. Work with your new team to make a plan. I see their hearts. They are good."

"I will. Is this goodbye?"

"Of course not. I will always be with you. I'll send the Quest now. Do well, Trey."