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For
the first time since his landfall on Dharma VI the foliated edge of the Wild Zone became a reality for Ryan. The vegetation was too dense for the hovercraft, and he was forced to skirt around the border as he scanned the shadowed growth on infrared. It glowed with muggy heat, and its twisted plant forms merged in a preposterous tangle. After scouting the frontier for fifteen minutes he found what he was looking for and brought the hovercraft around in a graceful loop to rest on a rolling patch of ground near the edge of the jungle.
The land formed a natural depression where two deeply gouged tracks were branded into the soil, cutting across the otherwise smooth contour of the hollow. Now that the
ground had dried out under the heat of the sun, the markings had hardened to leave an unmistakable signature. Like a fossilized trail, the imprint of ELMO’s propulsion tracks traveled up the hollow and
into the Wild Zone beyond.
The ground showed no sign of any large animal that the robot might be pursuing. What would cause him to set off into the wild on his own? Ryan got out of the hovercraft
and followed the tracks a few meters to where they plunged through low undergrowth and disappeared behind a thick leafed plant. He edged forward, pulling a branch aside to peer into the growth beyond. It
was as if he had opened a door.
Compared to the waste of the flatlands, this was a paradise of growth. Plants of all sizes and shapes were woven together in a delicate tableau, shrouded by a
violet haze that
hovered near the ground. Red tendrils and gossamer filaments floated on the misted air. Thick blue-veined stalks thrust up from the carpet of moss. Some of them grew to enormous heights, covered with pebbled hide. A cluster of melon sized pods drifted by, like jellyfish born on the subtle eddies and currents of the atmosphere that stirred beneath the ponderous growth. They seemed to breathe, billowing out like a parachute and then ejecting a puff of dusty spores.
He glanced over his shoulder toward the distant pinnacle of the Outpost tower. His chronometer read eleven-hundred hours, plenty of time for an excursion. Unshouldering
his Tech-Rifle, he moved forward and was swallowed by the Wild Zone. As he took that first step, a subtle anxiety stirred in him. The displaced branches slid back into place, like a door closing behind
him. His instincts cautioned him to mark this place in some way before venturing any further, and he drew a knife from his thigh pocket, as he looked at the broad leafed plant behind him. He laid the
edge of the blade against its stalk but, as he did so, the plant quivered, shirking away from the touch of the metal. The movement was so sudden and blatant that Ryan backed away. He leaned down to touch
the stalk with his hand, and became aware of a pulsing rhythm in the branch, like a muscle flexing beneath smooth skin.
He put the knife away, unwilling to cut into something that seemed so obviously alive. The plants of Earth, and the terraformed gardens on the Martian colony were
inanimate, something to be eaten, hewn down, burned, or broken. But the growth here resided on some middle ground between plant and animal life. He could see an undulating movement in the plants around
him, and was struck by the feeling that the entire forest was a single organism, which expressed itself in a myriad of shape and form. When viewed through his infrared visor this impression was even more
pronounced. The natural tendency of the Human eye to define objects and confine them within secure borders was frustrated by the infrared process. Instead, the forest seemed to meld into a montage of
form and color. He had the impression that there were two separate things present in the scene around him, the Wild Zone and himself. He looked down at his feet, and watched the warm glow of his legs
through the visor, but even this image seemed to blend in with the background.
He shook his head, flipping away the visor to return to his unaided vision. The setting around him snapped back into focus, but demanded an effort of will to isolate
into sections. He was on another world, he reminded himself. His disorientation arose naturally from the fact that he was seeing all of these things for the first time. His brain needed time to sort out
one shape from another, and file them away. He had a job to do here, and he had to keep his wits about him or he would mess it up again. He removed a small beeper and set it near the base of the gateway
plant. He would be able to home in on its signal for a time by using the receiver in his belt buckle. Satisfied with this solution he turned again to follow ELMO’s trail.
The tracks continued over soft ground, obscured in places by creeping vines or smoky coils of vapor. Ryan pressed on, threading past cycads and ferns—or so they seemed
to him. As he walked, the branches dangling down from above caressed his frame with a whisper-light touch. At one point he stumbled over a root and fell into a nest of vines. As he struggled to his feet
the coiled plants wrestled with him. A tubular frond brushed against his exposed cheek above the filter mask and left a gummy sap in its wake. By the time he had freed himself he felt flushed with
rousing heat.
He continued on. The robot must have caused a great disruption in its passage, but the forest had already closed around it, and only the ground still bore the brand of
ELMO’s enormous weight. Ryan hoped that the moss carpet would not grow back over the trail. He realized how easy it would be to lose himself in the labyrinth around him, in spite of his homing device. He
had two more beepers in his satchel, and decided to drop them at measured intervals as he progressed. The time factor permitted him no more than a two hour trek into the Wild Zone before he had to
reverse and head back for the hovercraft. If he didn’t show up for the rendezvous he was likely to cause even more anxiety for Harper and Gates. The thought of the scene in the tower returned to him, and
he wondered how long they would be able to endure the stench of the corpses before giving up on Gates’ project.
He became aware of a chorus of lilting sound that drifted through the growth around him. For the first time he realized that the ever present monotony of the winds had
been muffled by the dense canopy and hushed to the barest murmur. A drowsy languor embraced him, dulling his senses and shrouding his thoughts with sleepiness. At one point he had to shake himself awake,
and found that he had wandered aimlessly away from the robot’s trail in a kind of trance. Voices drifted in his mind, remnants of his hasty briefing.
“...Patrolling in the Wild Zone must be undertaken by two or more persons at all times. Should circumstances arise where it is necessary for a single man to enter this
area alone, he should breathe enriched oxygen, and take extreme care to avoid physical contact with any of the indigenous plant life...”
Oxygen! Ryan lowered himself to the ground, settling onto a cushioned mat of moss. His Tech-Rifle was a leaden weight, and he allowed it to fall. The misty vapor on the
forest floor covered him like a blanket. Oxygen... Another part of his mind fought off the lethargy that dulled his senses and forced his hand to reach for the flask at his side. As if to prevent him, a
coiled vine entangled his arm, and it tugged at him persistently, until he eased himself down on his back to rest. He felt as though he was immersed in a tepid pool of water which bubbled and gurgled
around him, relieving his stress and pain.
As his awareness darkened, he felt the velvet touch of a supple plant fiber slipping around the collar of his flex suit. Subdued by the languid forest airs, and bound in
a delicate lattice of fibers, Ryan drifted off to sleep, lost in the violet mist of the Wild Zone.
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