Paul Hardy - The Last Man on Earth Club

Our next group activity was more subtle and less immediate than making a meal. Veofol suggested we give them something they could view as a long term pastime, and came up with some suggestions. I chose gardening. We had a well tended lawn in front of the main building, with some basic landscaping and a few simple flowerbeds, but the meadow between the back of the building and the forest was largely undisturbed, and it was this area we cleared and prepared for the group.

Iokan was first out, drawn by the sound of turf being sliced away from the ground. “Doing a spot of gardening?” he asked.

I grinned back. “No. You are.”

He blinked and looked out over the newly cleared soil. The groundskeeper’s voice rang out from the turf cutter, asking if we needed any trees felling. I assured him that wouldn’t be necessary and asked if he could bring out the supplies.

Iokan asked, “Are we growing our own food?”

“Only if you want to,” I said. “You can plant flowers if you like. It’s a garden for all of you to work on together.”

“I’ve never done any gardening before…” he said, in the tone of someone just discovering a fresh and interesting challenge.

“You should go back inside and put on some clothes you don’t mind getting dirty,” I said. “I’ll call everyone out in a few minutes.” And, as the groundskeeper pushed a floating toolstore and seedbank up to the edge of the cleared ground and anchored it there, the rest of them responded to my summons and came out to see what was going on. Olivia brought a chair and sat down underneath her straw hat.

I explained what we had for them — about twenty square metres of land they could use to cultivate anything they wished (so long as it was permitted on Hub) plus all the tools they might need (though nothing that would make it too easy or automate the work). Kwame had an appointment later in the afternoon, but the rest of them could spend the day in the garden if they wished.

“So can we grow flowers?” asked Liss.

“Anything you want,” I assured her.

“Can we grow fruit?” asked Pew. He knew from experience how hard it was to get real fruit on Hub.

“As long as it doesn’t involve planting a tree,” I said. “That might take a bit too long.”

“What about poppies?” asked Olivia.

“I think there are a few varieties on the list,” I said.

“How about the medicinal kind?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I’ll sit here and watch you all enjoying yourselves.”

“No doubt you will be offering comments,” said Kwame.

“I’ll just sit in the middle and you can dig around me,” she said, pulling down the brim of her hat.

Kwame narrowed his eyes. Olivia was good at motivating him, albeit for the wrong reasons. “What seeds do we have?” he asked.

“Take a look at the list,” I said, handing over a pad and passing out more to the others. I also dropped one in Olivia’s lap, which she ignored.

The group gathered around Kwame and discussed what they wanted to grow. Liss wanted as many flowers as possible, and Kwame agreed that some flowers would be a good idea. Pew showed agricultural leanings and wanted not just fruit, but a whole vegetable garden. Kwame also thought that vegetables would be useful. Iokan suggested they landscape the area with lawns as well as the flower and vegetable plots. Kwame agreed with him too, but the others didn’t want a lawn or landscaping; the grounds already had plenty of that.

The group seemed to look naturally to Kwame to take a lead, and he had a gravitas that lent itself to that assumption. But either he couldn’t speak fast enough to keep up with them, or his leadership skills were damaged along with his brain. He grew irritated, and his only good idea was to vote on it, which of course got nowhere.

Olivia had been snoring away in a fitful doze, and I didn’t notice her wake up and take a desultory look through the seed list. It was only later, when I reviewed the recordings, that I saw her sit bolt upright in her chair as she came to a certain entry; then get to her feet and head over to rifle through the seed bins. Veofol noticed, went over and asked her what she was doing.

“It’s flax mustard!” she exclaimed.

Veofol looked at the listing. “Yellow mustard grass? Are you sure?”

“You can call it what you like, but sniff that!” She held out a handful of seeds. Veofol inhaled their scent, but he had very little sense of smell at the best of times. By this point, I’d made my own way over, and Olivia demanded I take a sniff too. To me, they were pungent and vile. I staggered back, coughing at the stench.

“There might be a problem,” said Veofol. “Look at this.” He gave me the pad, and showed me the warning: while it came up with pretty yellow flowers prized by some garden designers, yellow mustard grass also contained isothiocyanates, which were deadly poison to some human species.

“Olivia, are you intending to grow this for food?” I asked.

“Now there’s an idea…” She took up a lungful of their scent with the greatest pleasure.

“You do know it’s poisonous for some people?”

“That’s fine. I won’t share.” She breathed in the stench once more. “I haven’t had this since we ran out at Tringarrick…”

“I’m serious, Olivia. If there’s anyone in the group who can be hurt by this, I’ll have every seed dug up and destroyed.”

“Yeh. Poisonous. You said.” She looked round at the still-ongoing squabble. “Huh. Right.” She rolled up her sleeves (quite literally) and strode over to the group.

“All right, SHUT UP. Here’s what we’re going to do.” They looked round, surprised to see her on her feet. “We’re going to have a mixed flower and vegetable garden. Flowers on the borders and fruit and veg inside. We’re going to mark out plots and pick what goes in ’em. You,” she said to Liss, “pick five flowers and no more. Got that? Five. You,” she said to Pew, “pick ten fruit and veg. The first one’s yellow mustard grass and then whatever you like. You two,” she said to Iokan and Kwame, “help me get the tools.”

Kwame bristled. “I would like to have some say in the choice of—”

“You had a say, and all you did was talk. Get the bloody tools.”

Kwame looked furious, but the argument was prevented by a soft chime in my ear. “Kwame,” I said, “I think your advocate’s ready. She’s a bit early but would you like to have your meeting?”

“I would,” he said. Veofol accompanied him back to the centre and the remote meeting room.

“Are you going to help?” Olivia demanded of Iokan.

“Sure. Lead the way,” he said, a little amused, and followed her to the floating toolshed.

A couple of hours later, it was clear that Olivia knew what she was doing. She sketched a layout on a pad, and used stakes and twine to mark out flower and vegetable beds with Iokan’s help (though I think she could have done everything herself without taking much longer). She came back to me with questions about the condition of the earth, the local rainfall, the climate in general, and demanded a test for soil pH, which came out at a very promising 6.2. While she waited for that, I made sure none of the group would be likely to die from contact with her precious mustard grass. By that time, the others had picked what else they wanted to plant, and she directed the group to prepare the ground, turning over the sod and exposing fresh soil beneath. It was the first time I’d seen her take pleasure in something that wasn’t vindictive, and it was clear she’d learnt her skills on more than the barren soil of the Tringarrick research station.