Page 45 of Zalis
“Well, who are we to argue with the authorities?”
GEMMA
The authorities were onto something.
Several floors down, deep in the lower levels of the ship, buried in a maze of corridors, was a garden cloaked in darkness. Illuminated paths wound through clusters of bioluminescent plants. Glowing silvery orbs floated high in the ceiling. Water splashed in fountains.
Insects chirred. Birds called to one another, answering in kind. That had to be a recording. No way there were live birds roaming the ship.
Soft lights embedded in the paving stones offered just enough illumination that Gemma wouldn’t trip over her feet, figuratively speaking. The paths were wide enough for the chair to navigate with ease, and she saw no reason to hobble about on her aching foot, although it ached less after the goo pedicure.
“What is this place?” Gemma asked. In the chair she had to really crane her neck to look at him.
“The Night Garden.”
The garden was shadow and light, offering a quiet retreat into darkness.
Her arms brushed against ferns as the chair rolled by, the tips changing color from deep green to glowing pink. Intrigued, she touched the fern again. The underside of the leaves was fuzzy. Deep on the stalk were glossy pink berries.
“Do not touch.” Zalis grabbed her hand, stopping her plucking a berry. “They are psychedelic. Residue on skin has been known to cause a reaction.”
“Huh,” she said, which was not the response he wanted.
“This is serious. That plant is poisonous.”
“Why do you have psychedelic plants in a public garden?”
“For medicinal use,” he said, sounding as if he were quoting a guidebook.
“Anything else I shouldn’t lick or touch in here?”
“Those mushrooms.” He pointed to a cluster of spongy mushrooms clustered around a water feature. Then he pointed to the carpet of moss. “The algae can cause hallucinations.”
“Groovy,” she said, trying to make it a joke but clearly it went over his head.
They ventured deeper into the garden. The path widened enough for them to move side by side.
“This is my favorite place on the ship,” Zalis said, dipping his head as he spoke to her. She liked that, if felt like he was sharing a secret with her.
“It’s gorgeous. I can see why it’s your favorite.”
“The aesthetic qualities are not the reason why it is my favorite.”
“Oh? Does this count as one of the thirty-six questions?” she asked, teasing gently.
He considered his response. “Number four, what constitutes an ideal day.”
He did not elaborate. Instead, he stared ahead and walked in silence.
“What makes a trip to the Night Garden part of a perfect day?” she asked.
Another thoughtful pause before he answered. “I enjoy the silence. Families do not come here to play. You cannot hear the usual ship noises.”
Now that he mentioned it, she couldn’t hear the ventilation or that persistent hum of electricity, only the whirr of the chair’s motor.
“It is meant for solitary reflection. I find it an ideal location to meditate when my thoughts are unfocused.” He paused. “I apologize if you are dismayed.”
“Because you meditate?”
