voice: midnight ramble

[rickitikitarr]

[Ricki's insomnia is not getting all that much better. There isn't anything to do around during the day, exactly, either, but it's even worse at this hour in the morning. All he can think of is the library, again, and the network.

Today, it's;]

Who knows what about fruit hybrids? Did you know they've invented something called a pluot that's halfway between an apricot and a plum? I'm not an old fashioned bloke but that strikes me as a little ghastly.

[Flipping the age of his book.]

A plumcot. A pleacotum. This can't be real, it must be nonsense- here. Limequats. That, at least, is properly illustrative.

I'm pleased to see you haven't squandered the future that past generations won for you. Additionally, I think we should request all of these for the kitchen, immediately.

Comments

[chlorophylliac]

If you were to actually get work here I wouldn't object. The place remains staffed.

[Though it's down to just her and the Emperor now.]

[rickitikitarr]

If I wanted to take you up on that, what would I do?

[chlorophylliac]

Show up, and I'll direct you to what's needed. Watering, feeding, some light maintenance. Dealing with infestations, should they arise. I don't clip or shape the plants, but what's dead will need clearing away.

[rickitikitarr]

Just in the morning, some day?

[chlorophylliac]

That's fine. I'm in there every day.

[It's practically home for her. Her cabin she uses mostly as lab space.]

[rickitikitarr]

[He disconnects, with a salute, and actually does show up, the next morning. Or later that same day, depending on how you want to squint at it.]

[chlorophylliac]

[Same difference. Ivy's dozing lightly, high in the branches at the heart of the greenhouse - but her pets are watchful, and they draw her attention to a newcomer. She climbs down, an easy descent, as he approaches.]

You must be Ricki.

[She's not strictly surprised that he's here, but a part of her had wondered whether the novelty would pass.]

[rickitikitarr]

That's me. I don't think I got your name, properly-

[chlorophylliac]

Poison Ivy.

[She tilts her head and makes the concession she's been making for months.]

Ivy is fine.

[rickitikitarr]

Nice to meet you, Ivy. Show me what's what, then. Anything I can do to help.

[chlorophylliac]

Follow me.

[The tour she gives is brisk but thorough. The greenhouse is roughly uniform in temperature, of course, but certain regional variations have been made - open windows for extra ventilation, high spreading trees to create a canopy for plants that prefer shade. Ivy can't strictly fault the place she inherited on her return but she doesn't think it's arrogant to assert that she's made improvements.

She talks through the beds and planters, explaining what they need, where their homes are. Some need daily watering, carefully measured feeding, tender loving care; others need to be deadheaded frequently, others practically neglected besides checking for disease.]

...anything I don't tell you about, I want you to leave alone. They're from alien planets and need very specific care.