BRAIDS OF GLASS by Jonathan Laden

Patches of grass still grow in the Mylan enclave.

The golden-domed buildings, with their solid diamond walls throwing sparkling rainbows, are a commonplace; the work of mundane nanites. In all my visits to the enclaves of Earth, this is the first nonhuman life larger than yeast I have seen.

“Ambassador Varin,” the bemused voice drawls into my cockpit. “Do you intend to grace us with your presence, or are you merely here to admire the architecture?” Governor Xerxes knows well it’s not his architecture that has drawn my attention.

“I request permission to land, in the name of the Asterclust.” I could force my way in, but that would undermine my mission of alliance. I don’t intend to flub this important diplomatic assignment.

“Granted.” He is nonchalant, without a trace of fear. Unlike leaders of the other enclaves, this man believes he is a match for the power I represent. Or he’s a better actor than the rest.

Everywhere I’ve stopped, the enclaves have quickly agreed to ally with us. There has been no resistance, no threat requiring my leaders’ ‘final option.’ The killer nanites that would wipe out the humans in any enclave, then die out just beyond the enclave’s boundaries for lack of organic material to consume. I can’t imagine what my leaders had in mind, but I’m glad their use hasn’t proven necessary.

I bring my ship to a gentle stop on the bare rocks by the edge of the enclave. Pushing a button on the console, I release a cloud of non-lethal nanites into the air. Breathing deeply, I draw them in. Hopefully, the nanites have lodged deep in my nostrils, almost at the access to the brain. I should be able to breathe on the surface for nearly a week, unless the mix of local toxins doesn’t match any of the profiles anticipated by the Asterclust’s best scientists. I couldn’t bring enough oxygen for my several stops, so must breathe local air. No use worrying; I’ll know soon enough.

There is no fanfare upon my arrival, no trumpeteers, no holovised speeches, no dancing girls to greet me. Not even a crowd of curious earthlings, or what passes for one on what remains of Earth. Only the Governor himself awaits, dressed in a loose flowing robe. I shrug. The ceremony had grown wearisome.

Leaving my ship is always difficult. Though the hatch has been sitting open, local air isn’t allowed past the static membranes that protect the interior. I’ll only know my fate once I step into terran atmosphere. If the nanites fail me, there won’t be time to turn around and dive for safety. Xerxes will ship my remains back to the Asterclust, if he’s feeling generous.

Closing my eyes, I take the fateful step. And then another. Silently, I thank the scientists from home yet again. Blinking, I see that the Governor has come to my side, faster than I would have guessed he could walk. I nod to him. “Nice grass.”

He smiles at my understatement. “The only free growing population left in all the universe, if I don’t miss my guess. You’ll have the opportunity to tour our arboretum later.”

“That would be acceptable.” I do my best to keep my eyes from bugging out. An arboretum, with a real, live tree, would represent wealth beyond imagining. No wonder this man does not bow to the outworlder.

“I’m sure you have a fine garden as well. Perhaps we can trade seeds.”

At each of the other enclaves I stayed a day. It has not been difficult convincing these broken remnants of Earth’s people to ally with the Asterclust. We are humanity’s future, and no one on this dead planet remembers the last time they had any future at all. The alliance will mean that a select few of their older children will be allowed to come to the world we are slowly, arduously building from the asteroid belt. The differences in the air will kill them within a few years, but they can act as a breeding stock. Our own diversity is so very limited, we must have their genes to survive. After Earth has entered a full period of dormancy, the enclaves will only live on in the offspring who survive on the Asterclust.

It is the third day before Governor Xerxes agrees to meet in formal parley.

His servant women have shown me around. They offered other entertainments as well, which I refused. Even if I didn’t fear leaving offspring behind on this uninhabitable rock, the risk to my health would be too high. The scientists had not prepared nanites to protect me from that avoidable hazard.

Finally, as I stand staring at those luxurious blades of grass, Xerxes approaches. “Mr. Ambassador, I’m sure you didn’t come all this way to mow my lawn.”

I tear myself away from the vibrant green of it, from the rich, living smell. “You’re right, Governor Xerxes. I came to offer alliance.”

“Have you seen our arboretum?”

“Yes. The Governess showed me.” Then attempted to show me her own fecundity, I do not mention. I am not certain of Mylan mores, but her furtive glances at the guards told me she exceeded her instructions. I turned away from her green eyes, and forced myself to cease noticing the swell of her breasts beneath the synthcloth scarf she wore.

The steel shows beneath his drawl. “What makes you think you have anything to offer me?”

I almost laugh. “Your little vanity garden is nice. I’m sure you take great pride in tending it. Yet, it remains a fragile accomplishment on a dead world.” I grind my heel into his grass, rending several priceless blades.

I’m rewarded with a look of abject shock, but Xerxes—to his credit—stays the guards who have started towards me.

“We of the Asterclust represent humanity’s only possible future,” I continue. “How can you pass up the opportunity to be a part of that?”

“You make a compelling case, Ambassador.” Xerxes’ eyes narrow, his composure fully recovered. I can see he’s not sold. “Let us continue our negotiations in private. Follow me.”

I smile warmly, acting as if our deal is all but signed. “Certainly. Let us make arrangements to—how did you put it before?—trade our seeds.”

I slow my pace to match Xerxes. We inch down a sparkling diamond hallway that looks like any of dozens I’ve seen on Earth. The ancestors who created the early nanites were obsessed with diamonds. Why is not recorded.

At the hall’s end, there is a door. It fails to open at our approach and Xerxes gives it no command. Instead, he reaches out with a pudgy hand and turns a round wooden extrusion from its center.

“It’s called a doorknob,” he explains.

A collection of mismatched candles illuminate the room, each a small, smoking flame. Covering my mouth, I recoil.

Xerxes shakes his head. “Fire has lit the homes of humanity for thousands of years. The smoke will not harm you, vacuum breather.”

Cautiously, I follow him into the room. A diplomat cannot avoid all risks. Then, I see what real wealth is. The carpet is red, with intricate patterns interwoven around the edges. Nanites could make such an item, but they would not incorporate unpredictable breaks into the pattern. This is the work of human hands. The chair Xerxes points me to is genuine wood, possibly hundreds of years old. It creaks when I sit. I lean my elbows on the solid conference table, also of wood. “A fine room for our peoples to reach accord.”

Xerxes’ smile could freeze a waterfall. “Why should I send my people to die on the Asterclust?”

Is he serious? Looking him straight in the eye, I enunciate each word separately, so there may be no confusion. “Earth is dead. I offer the only future your people’s children can hope for.”

His face twists into the opening of a rage, complexion red, eyes glaring. Then Xerxes sighs, and deflates. “Can’t you see that Earth is not irredeemable? I’ve granted you three days to understand what I’m building here. I thought even a half-wit ambassador from the rocks of space would understand. Evidently, I’ve overestimated you.”

I pause to consider his words. My response is careful. “What you’ve done is impressive, indeed. It doesn’t change the basic facts. The Earth is spent. Your plot of grass and your sickly, stunted trees won’t survive Earth’s poisonous atmosphere for long.” I draw down my face to convey some sense of regret. “Neither will humanity. That truth is inescapable.”

Xerxes bows formally, his robes crinkling. “This interview is concluded.” He departs the room with a speed I didn’t think him capable of.

Patience is an ambassador’s defining attribute. I know Xerxes won’t allow me to leave without some agreement attaching him to a viable future. For three days I wander the diamond halls and rooms of the enclave. I sample the strains of yeast unique to Myla; some are exceptional. Once, I return to the arboretum. Of the several trees I saw before, two have died. There are dozens of new pots of dirt laid out. Some contain saplings, most lie empty.

Always, a guard watches me. Sometimes I smile and wave. Let it get back to Xerxes that the Asterclust ambassador enjoys himself, enduring no inconvenience from his extended stay.

On the final day I may remain and breathe the foul air, I walk the market stalls seeking a souvenir for my son, a small sliver of what will soon be the irretrievable past.

I see just the thing. A delicate tracing of glass, braided. It evokes the fragile strength of Myla, the most thriving enclave on a dead world. As I reach for it, the Mylans facing me shrink away, eyes wide. I know before I turn that I have won the waiting game. Xerxes has sought me out.

“Why are you still here?” His jovial fat man persona is shattered. An angry, impotent man stands before me.

“We have not concluded our negotiations.” I take hold of the glass braid. “The Mylan people deserve life, Governor, and a future. You know that.”

Calm returns to Xerxes’ features, except for his smoldering eyes. “I will show you one thing, Ambass-ador. Then you will be escorted off my lands.”

I sense that this is the last stand his pride requires. He needs the hope I offer, more than we ever could need him or the genes contained in any one enclave. “If I refuse to leave?” I call his bluff with one of my own.

“Your remains will make an excellent fertilizer.”

We walk in silence through the enclave. If he thinks to impress upon me the grandeur of his holdings, he miscalculates. I bide my time.

Past the final golden dome, we reach a small clearing, shaded by rocky outcroppings. Xerxes points. “There. Do you see now?”

Upon the dusty ground, clumps of grass grow randomly. Several trees, healthier looking than those living in the arboretum, dot the landscape. A flash of brown flits across the space, disappearing into a hole twenty meters distant.

“A bit more grass.” I nod. “Impressive.”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t have slaves coddling this land, ambassador. My trees grow of their own once transplanted. If not for the rabbit family’s voracious appetite, the land would be covered in grass.”

My mind blanks. “An animal?”

Xerxes smiles. He knows I now see he has the upper hand. “The first of many species. Gengineered to survive on Earth and revitalize it.”

“It won’t work.” It can’t. The scientists back home have said it’s impossible. “Give up this impossible dream, and join our alliance.”

Xerxes shakes his head. His belly shakes with it. “Return home, and tell your masters you have failed. The day you arrived I sent my messengers with news of what we have accomplished. Under my leadership, no other enclave will honor their alliance with you. Earth will not send her sons and daughters to die in your sterile air. Nor will we trade you our seeds, after all. We are the future of humanity. You paltry few who live among the barren rocks of our solar system are dead.”

I walk back to my ship in silence, in a kind of mourning. My report will displease many back home. As I depart he stands by his grass and waves, laughing.

I finger the button, knowing what I must do. I have no choice, I must preserve the alliances with the other enclaves, through fear if no longer hope. It is self-defense. I now understand the final option.

However, to make it up to the Earth, I will use my ship to disperse the grass and trees and rabbits, spreading this renewal of life faster than Xerxes ever could have. I push the button. The invisible nanites stream out, propelled by the force of my thrusters.

My video sensor resolution is just fine enough for me to see the smile freeze on Xerxes’ whitened face. His stiffened body collapses to the ground.

I turn about to retrieve the plants, and approach the landing space. I slam the sensor off, too late to erase the image that is burned onto my retinas. The grass still stands, yes, but stripped of its organic material. Each blade is reduced to its glass, crystalline skeleton, a barren braid.

BACK TO EXCERPTS