The next day had gone surprisingly well. Myaddan had taken Gyamma back to the university, waved a permit at the guards (luckily different ones, Gyamma observed with relief) and simply walked in with casual confidence.
It took a couple of hours of waiting to meet the Sadguru. With many new students being ushered in, he was a particularly busy man at the time. But when they finally met the man, Gyamma found him to be kindly and charming. True to his letter, he was thrilled to have her in the university, and very apologetic about her initial encounter.
“Forgive us, madam, we should have informed the gatekeepers of the news,” he said in his soft voice, “We didn’t realise how different it must seem to them from what they’re used to. But that very difference is a mark of what we have achieved here. You are the first highlander to attend university - imagine that! Your enrollment here is a mark of pride - for both you and us, young Gyamma. Truly momentous!”
With his blessings, she started off frantically trying to catch up with all the initiations she had missed the previous day.
Myaddan left her with some packed meals, and an insistent demand that she visit every week, and more often if she missed home. As he left with her promise, Gyamma watched with the feeling she had made at least one friend in her new life.
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In the old village school, the Touches were treated very pragmatically. Knowledge taught was the no-nonsense, useful kind: Heating to make a cook-fire, Strength to push a cart out of the mud, or basic Healings to numb a goat’s broken leg. As long as they worked, there was no reason to wonder why or how.
Here at Atharen university, the Touches were Science. Everything was meant to be questioned, dissected and explored. The practical wisdom dispersed in the village was here categorized neatly, organized into independent fields of study and investigation. The little box Gyamma had lived in up until now was shattered, its walls thrown into a vast new horizon. She was overwhelmed and exhilarated at once, feeling a thrill akin only to climbing against a fierce flurry.
The depth of Touch-science seemed almost unfathomable. It was the firm belief of academics that its mysteries were utterly complex, mandating an undying dedication to a single field of study to yield even the slightest breakthrough. Scholar initiates were expected to imbibe this philosophy deeply. Each was encouraged to find a branch that called to them, and prove their mettle and discipline in it until they were worthy of winning a Guru’s acceptance as an understudy.
For the next few years, the pupil would work in close association with their Guru, diving into the depths of their chosen ocean, and strive to earn a recommendation - which meant they could progress outside the university and do real research in the various Congresses of Science. To encourage this path, the scholar-apparents were provided with an initiation into the institute, including tours of the several fields of study available to them.
This was how Gyamma first heard the term Touch Farming.
Gyamma’s initiation tour was led by one Guru Para, a calm, bespectacled woman. She guided the group of excitable students to the university’s central courtyard. Here, surrounded by the ancient stone buildings of learning, grew an extraordinary pair of trees.
A deep brown trunk grew winding upwards, like a corkscrew, before exploding into branches laden with thick, succulent leaves of a rich yellow colour. These leaves breathed, expanding and contracting, like little balloons.
Next to grew what appeared to be a gigantic flower, more than a tree. Its trunk was slate grey and solid, unlike its twisting neighbour. It held up a magnificent array of broad plate-like leaves of white and pink. These “petals” sprouted in disks of four concentric circles around a central knotted node. The entire flower faced sideways rather than upward, showing off its entirety to all who stood in front of it.
The Guru waved towards the branches that brushed against each other in a breeze, like lovers nuzzling.
“I suppose everyone here has seen a Time-pair before,” she said, “Although our Sun and Moon trees are a sight you’ll rarely find anywhere else.”
She pointed to the winding trunk and the pulsing leaves.
“The Sun tree counts the hour. It’s leaves change shades in a constant, unvarying cycle, from almost a deep black at night to the current yellow - which indicates it’s almost noon. If you observed the breath of the leaves, you could count down to the precise minute - they grow and shrink in a most precise rhythm.
“Next to it, of course, is the Moon tree. It’s leaves always grow in four discs of seven leaves each. The colour of these leaves follow the moon - count the white petals, and they will tell you the day of the month.”
Gyamma stared at them, stunned at the wondrous order in something that had not even a mind.
Guru Para continued. “Do any among you know what makes these Soul-trees different from most of the other varieties?”
Soul-trees? The alien term pricked Gyamma’s ears
There was some collective hesitation in the group until a brave student answered.
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“The Time-trees are typically grown independently, outside a Touch-grove and don’t need a Mother Tree, or Touch-activation to function.”
Para nodded. “Precisely. For any of you that were confounded by the technical terms in that sentence, fear not. You will soon learn to see these trees very differently.
“The Sun and Moon trees are two among a very special class of flora called Soul-trees, although that name is a misnomer: Soul-tree varieties actually include many bushes, plants, even creepers and vines.
“The soul in their name comes from the fact that each of these species produces interesting, and very specific, reactions when subjected to certain Touches, proving - supposedly - that they are connected to the Omnexus, the same as we are.”
The Guru paused, with a hint of a smile.
“Now, regardless of your perspectives about souls and the Divine Web - I’ll leave those topics to your Archive Study and Theology Gurus - one cannot deny that Soul-trees have a fascinating number of uses. Anyone care to venture a few?”
A young woman answered. “In our town, we had an Oracle Grove. The Greenstouches there used it to predict the weather, and the Healers would use it in various ways, like diagnosing illnesses.”
Para nodded calmly. “That’s a good example. But what you’re speaking of is actually two different Touch-groves: a Healer’s grove and a Weather grove, certainly the two most common forms of the larger set of Oracle groves.
“The Weather grove, as you said, is used to predict the weather. In a fishing village, for example, it is terribly useful to know if there is a storm churning on the ocean, or if you are a farmer, to estimate the next rains.
“Healer’s groves too are common: they provide various critical roles in Healing and Curing. They are especially valuable since many of them can be used even if one does not know any complex Touches of Healing.”
Gyamma listened with rapt attention. She had never heard of such incredible tools: to be able to use Healing without knowing its Touch and predict the weather accurately seemed almost magical, and it was hard to believe this was based on some well-understood science. A strange feeling dawned on her, an almost vertiginous sensation. She felt like she was standing at the borders of some vast, undiscovered land that was slowly beckoning her within.
Para continued her lecture, casually unaware of the earth she was pulling out from one young student’s feet.
“Now for a much more involved question: how does a Touch-grove function?”
This was greeted with only a few murmurs. Para nodded knowingly asked them to follow her. She led them past the Time trees into the thick wooded area beyond the courtyard, through a path surrounded by plants Gyamma had never dreamed of.
Knotted trees criss-crossed their branches overhead, enclosing them in a tunnel of green. Snaking vines with leaves of blue and white crawled along the path. Flowers bloomed, spraying her eyes with more colours than she’d thought existed.
The group stopped in front of one clearing, where a large tree grew in its center, surrounded by several smaller saplings and flowering plants, arranged in neat rectangular sections around it.
“Welcome,” said Para, “to the University’s Oldwood grove. If you’re wondering, yes, the name Oldwood is indeed related to Oldforests. This Oldwood is a small replica of those vast, mysterious jungles and forests that span the world. Oldforests have been known and studied for many centuries, and we still learn more about them everyday - it is where virtually all of our Touch Farming technology comes from. Take this plant for example,”
She knelt towards a small plant with flat leaves of a deep orange colour.
“People have known about this Fire-plant for almost seven hundred years. It belongs to a
class of Soul-trees called Touch-plants - in that it responds to a specific Touch. Like so - ”
Para drew a sign of Heat and prodded the thick, green stem. Like a blooming flower, the leaves burst aglow. The plant was enveloped in a deep orange light, giving it the impression of being aflame.
“But that’s not all Touch-plant can do. Observe the rest of the Grove.” Para directed their attention to the rest of rectangular garden.
As the Fire-plant glowed, Gyamma noticed in astonishment a change from a different plant further in: a white flower with translucent, thin petals had begun to extend delicate tendrils that drooped to the ground, setting off a chain reaction as they touched more stems and creepers..
“You will have noticed the Feeler plant responding. Those are a of more recently discovered class called Link-plants, called so because they commonly serve as the nerves and connections of a Touch-grove. In this case, that Feeler plant forms a central node that awakes the entire Grove.
“A Touch-grove comprises of many different varieties of Soul-trees that interact with each other. In fact, several kinds of Soul-trees do not even respond to Touch directly, but only to stimuli from other Touch-plants. Grown in the right combinations, and under the right conditions, Touch-groves can be incredible tools. But any Grove needs one important component to function: the Mother Tree.”
Para pointed to the large tree in the center. Its white trunk was thick, and it stood tall, spreading its arms over all the smaller plants and shrubs around it, shading them with broad green leaves several feet wide. Aerial roots generously dropped from its winding branches, and some of the smaller vines had clung onto them for support, making the tree seem apt to its name, like a nurturing parent helping a child stand.
“The Mother Tree binds them all together. Without her, a Touch-grove doesn’t function, even if you plant and connect all the others in the right ways. She is their brain, the Nexus of a Touch-grove… and yes, even their life support. Many varieties of Soul-trees cannot even live without the Mother nearby. Even the Sun and Moon trees behave very differently when planted alongside her.”
Something had been nagging Gyamma at the back of her mind, which she voiced into a question.
“Guru Para, in the Atharaotta mountain ranges, spring produces many beautiful wildflowers and lush meadows. But I have never seen such wondrous trees before: even the Time-trees I knew of were different. Why have we in the highlands never heard of Touch-groves?”
A few students around her muttered in annoyed voices, disapproving of her ignorance, but Guru Para nodded, understanding.
“Touch-groves like this one need special periodic care, provided by a qualified Greenstouch. With the right maintenance, they can be quite resilient, and grow in a variety of climates and environments. But the harsh, icy winters of the highlands are too much of a challenge, for both the Groves and their keepers; which makes them very uncommon where you come from.”
Gyamma’s daydreams of bringing the wonders of Touch Farm and Soul-tree technology back to her people were somewhat quenched.
But deep within herself, she knew a seed had been planted in her mind. Something in her told her she wanted to spend the rest of her life in this world of green that had been hitherto hidden, now ready to reveal to her its secrets.