The Botanist of Sky City Celeste

The Roots

Stepping off the elevator platform, I can’t help but stop to take in the view of the city. Around us, artificial trees stretch up so far, their canopies almost reach to the top of the glass dome. Each outward branch of the structure hosts an array of greenery making the forest illusion more convincing – crops, shrubbery, moss and more.

‘Did you know people live all the way up there in the upper eaves, Fern?’ I ask my drone assistant.

‘I did,’ Fern replies. ‘Do you require more information about the Celeste Skyscraper Forest?’

‘Thank you, but I read about them already. Quite the engineering feat, don’t you think?’

‘They appear to be both functional and visually pleasing,’ Fern says.

We move away from the elevator platform towards The Roots. The area is the starting off point for the city, with root and branch-like paths twisting out in nodes towards different zones. No signs or street names, though. Franco told me once that in Celeste, street names and divided zones are seen to reinforce unnecessary status, so only specific landmarks mark city maps. But I don’t need a map just yet, and I start my walk up the breadth of The Roots. It’s bustling with people at different stages of their mornings – some commuting, some out with kids, others walking dogs, the real and robotic.

‘The closest tram station is located on the first node to the left of The Roots,’ Fern trills beside me.

I look up towards the central node, the skyline an array of greens and glassy blues. ‘It’s much more energising to walk.’

‘To get to the Great Garden, it would be quicker and more direct to take the tram,’ Fern says.

I shake my head. ‘The fresh air will do us good.’

‘I cannot detect air freshness,’ Fern says.

‘Then try to enjoy the sunshine,’ I say and walk past the node to the Tram Station. Fern, limbs dropped to its side, begrudgingly flies along next to me. ‘Come on,’ I encourage it. ‘Exploring the city will be fun.’

Before today, I’d only seen pictures of Celeste, but being here is something else. It’s beautiful. Fascinating. I already find myself wanting to know everything about it, to explore every feature. Like the water wheel whirring to the edge of one of the nodes on our right, or the orchard in one of the community hubs to our left – there are several gardens and allotments in the city, as well as the Great Garden. It’s one of the things I find most appealing. Franco told me greenspaces were built into every part of the city, so that every resident had one on their doorstep.

As we pass a vegetable allotment, a gardener appears to be teaching a course to some budding horticulturalists. I have to resist the temptation to go and offer my own insights. I can almost hear the exhalation of the plants themselves, the signals they’re extending out with every tiny movement. I’ve always felt attuned to the natural world, and it’s no different here – even with the weeds breaking through the stone path beneath my feet.

The plants aren’t the only natural presences. Around us, birds and insects – some exported from the Underzones, others experiments in re-introduction – flit between the greenery, synchronised in their particular dance. The kind that says that this is their world, and we’re just visitors here. Indeed, I am the most visitor of visitors in the sky city. A tourist, and judging by the glances I’m getting, I’m not hiding it very well. I probably should have dressed better to blend in. Most folks are wearing minimalist plant-fibre clothing, while I’m dressed in a patchwork of recycled fabric – we don’t have the luxury of readily growing plants in the Undertowns.

At the end of The Roots, I stop for a moment. Fern whirls around my head. ‘The Great Garden of Celeste is located in the North. Follow the central node straight ahead.’

‘Thank you, Fern,’ I say, then take a node to the left.

Fern bleeps again. ‘We’re going the wrong way.’

‘Nothing wrong with a little spontaneity.’

‘Franco’s orders were to go to the Great Garden.’

‘Franco wants us to make a delivery,’ I say. ‘He said nothing about the route we should take. We’ll get to the Great Garden eventually. We might not get this opportunity to explore the city again.’

‘But—’

‘No buts, Fern. My order overrules yours, and so I think…’ I pause at another intersection and look up and down both nodes. A cobbled path winds unevenly to the left towards the skyscraper forests, while on my right lies a wider straight path. ‘This way, I think.’

‘Why?’ Fern asks.

‘There’s a sound I like.’

Fern bobs along beside me as I turn, protests slightly diminished. ‘What kind of sound?’

‘Water.’

‘I would remind you that my primary functions would be at risk if I get wet.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t force you to go swimming.’

The Waterway

The Waterway is an expanse of blue, speckled teal with the kelp forests and seagrass meadows within. Saltwater. They’ve brought an actual ocean up to the sky. An artificial current pushes waves in an out across a sandy beach, and one group of teenagers are even attempting to surf, while others around them swim or bathe in the sun. If Fern wasn’t so against the concept of water – which feels a bit like a flaw in its programming given where its primary genetics came from – I’d be attempting a dip myself. Instead, I settle to sit cross-legged in the grass for a while, watching the seagrass meadows, the plants as happy as the small fish that flit around it.

‘Look,’ I say to Fern, as a bird with an orange and yellow beak soars above us then dives into the water.

‘That is a puffin,’ Fern says. ‘My database shows that the bird went extinct in the Underzones fifty years ago, though Celeste recently hatched cryo-frozen eggs for future rewilding efforts.’

‘It’s amazing,’ I say, as the bird returns to the surface, bounty of translucent fish in its beak. One day, it might be possible to reintroduce them to the Underzones, the original purpose of the sky cities – controlled biodomes for securing future recovery. ‘It’s very relaxing to just sit and listen to the sounds of the city, isn’t it Fern?’

Fern buzzes. ‘I feel both at ease and anxious to get to our destination.’

‘Hmm. And how does that feel, to have conflicting emotions?’

‘I do not have emotions.’

I smile but don’t push it further. These things take time.

After a while, I stand up and look across the city again. I know the Great Garden is due North, but across The Waterway bridge cylindrical vats loom silver in the sun and I can’t pass up the chance to head across for a closer look.

The vats are full of one of the city’s most important resources: algae. In the centre of them sits an interior square lined with benches. An old couple is sitting on one, facing the glass walls of the structures, reading on their tablets, sipping on coffees, occasionally looking up to just watch the water. This place is more than the food, energy, and oxygen it produces – it iis a shaded area to sit in peace and quiet, and with the emerald light cast from the water it’s almost an art installation, too. I close my eyes for a moment to listen to the sounds of the algae, the signals almost musical, setting a warm feeling in my chest. If it weren’t for the delivery, and the fact Fern is anxiously whirring around my head, I could stay here for hours.

The Park

Our next route leads us to an open area where families and friends sit eating lunch in the grass beneath the sun. I sit down nearby as Fern floats around me like a vaguely annoying insect. I wish it would relax a bit, but I can’t blame it for its programming. A group of kids stop near us and point at Fern and I, and I offer them a smile and a wave. One of them approaches.

‘What are you?’ the girl asks.

‘A tourist,’ I say. ‘From the Underzones. And what are you?’

The girl giggles. ‘I’m Daisy,’ she says. ‘Like the flowers. Look, I made a chain of them.’ She hands me her creation and indicates that I put it around my neck. I do and she smiles.

‘Did you know, daisies are actually two flowers?’ I say. ‘The yellow in the centre is one, and the white petals another.’

Her eyes widen. ‘Does that mean there are two of me?’

‘There’s more than one person inside all of us,’ I say. ‘So yes, perhaps we’re a little like daisies.’

Daisy frowns. ‘You’re very strange.’

‘Thank you!’ I smile, then a call from her parents summons her back.

I return my attention to the park itself. Opposite me sits a community grove circled by a stone path. Around the edges are beds full of colourful spring flowers. I head over and put my hands to the soil. The plants speak to me, and though most are happy, some could do with a little more space, and it would be easy to transplant them to another area. A grey-haired woman approaches as I’m inspecting some of the root structures.

‘Can I help you?’ she says.

‘Ah, hello, I was just enjoying the sights.’

Her eyebrows knit together. ‘By digging up my flower beds?’

‘Oh, sorry. I was under the impression that Celeste gardens are communal.’

‘Doesn’t mean I didn’t plant and take care of them.’ She taps her walking stick on the stones at the edge.

‘Yes, of course, well I wasn’t digging it’s just…’ I hesitate. The woman doesn’t seem angry, only concerned. Her hands are calloused from hard work, and she’s wearing well-worn padded trousers. ‘You’re a gardener?’

She gives a sharp nod. ‘Yes.’

‘Well, so am I, in a way,’ I explain. ‘And I couldn’t help but notice this plant here is too close to the path. It would like more space to grow.’

‘The plant told you that, did it?’

I shrug. ‘Yes, I suppose. I could help if you like?’

Fern bleeps beside me. ‘Gus, we must continue with our delivery. We don’t have time for gardening.’

‘Fern, please,’ I say. ‘Franco wouldn’t mind us helping those in need along the way.’

‘Is he always this full of himself?’ the woman asks Fern in a playful tone.

‘I don’t understand,’ Fern replies. ‘Aren’t we all full of ourselves, for we are made full of the matter that makes us ourselves. And Gus here is—’

‘Thank you, Fern, but I don’t think that’s what she meant.’

Fern goes quiet and I wonder if it’s doing more internal calculations. It’s good for Fern to be faced with such conundrums – it’s how it will learn.

The woman clicks her tongue and hands me a trowel. ‘Go on then, replant it wherever you like.’

I nod and get to work, carefully moving the roots around.

‘You’re not from around here, are you?’ she says.

‘No, we came from the Underzones.’

‘That explains that jumper. We’re not scheduled for a cold spell until the weekend. Weather’s a bit more predictable here than down there,’ she smiles. ‘I miss that, you know.’

‘You didn’t always live here?’

She shakes her head. ‘No, my daughter works here and after my husband died, I moved in with her and her family.’

‘Which do you prefer, above or below?’

‘Both have positives, but I do miss putting my feet on the real ground. Here things sometimes feel a little too rigid, like the weather. No surprises, sunshine or rain.’

‘Is there rain scheduled soon?’ Fern asks.

‘My friend here is worried about getting wet,’ I add.

‘I function better in clear weather,’ Fern says.

‘No rain till Friday,’ the woman confirms. ‘There’ll be a water festival then. Come along, if you’re still here.’

‘Fern and I have a delivery to the Great Garden, then that’s job done, so unfortunately not. As wonderful as that sounds.’

‘Maybe for you,’ Fern says. ‘And, I have calculated that if you continue to pause for gardening at every corner, we will still be here at the weekend.’

‘Yes Fern, I get the hint,’ I say. ‘Suppose we best be off.’ I lean down and touch the leaves of the newly rooted plant. It thrums but will settle soon. ‘The plant is quite happy now. It was nice meeting you—’

‘Iris,’ she says. ‘And you, Gus and friend Fern. Maybe next time we meet you can tell me how I’m watering everything wrong.’

‘Well, in this particular—’ I pause, and she’s chuckling to herself. ‘Ah, yes, I must work on being less full of myself. Until next time, Iris.’

The Market

‘You know, Fern, you really ought to be more appreciative of the natural world,’ I say as it berates me again for stopping to admire a potted plant stall in a community market we stumbled across. Another thing I love about the city is that there are hubs within every residential area, with all facilities that communities may need. This particular market is selling everything from spare robotics parts to specialist honey.

‘I appreciate things in equal measure,’ Fern says. ‘Why should I be more appreciative of the natural world?’

‘Because you’re not that far away from it yourself.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Why do you think you’re called Fern?’

‘I would imagine it stands for something. An acronym.’

‘Franco’s energetic robotic nuisance?’ I offer.

Fern is silent.

‘I’m sorry, that was unkind,’ I say. ‘In fact, Franco made you with the genetic information of a Fern.’ I choose a potted fern from the stall and pay the vendor. I hold the plant out as we continue to browse. ‘Did you know, ferns are some of the most adaptable plant species?’

‘I will update my archives accordingly.’

‘So, that makes you part plant, part robot.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘We all have the potential for growth, and I think Fern, you still have much to learn.’

‘I don’t need to learn beyond my essential functions.’

‘Ah, but who decides on essential functionality?’

‘Franco does.’

‘You are more than your maker,’ I say. ‘And adaptation is in your genetic makeup.’

Fern falls quiet again, and I wonder if it’s considering its sense of self. Robotic sentience is becoming increasingly common in the Underzones, but it often takes a while for a machine to come around to the idea of Agency. And Fern is one of Franco’s relatively new models. I expect, in time, it will grow as it needs and wants, and Franco won’t begrudge me for nudging it in that direction. He’s an advocate for Robotic sentience himself, why else would he experiment so much with bio-robotics? If he does not want his creations to adapt and grow, he’d simply build machines, pure and simple. I wonder what The Botanist of the Great Garden will think of it all.

‘If I can grow,’ Fern says eventually. ‘Does that mean I will get additional limbs?’

I laugh. ‘Not unless Franco installs them,’ I say. ‘I mean growth in the internal sense.’

Fern doesn’t say anything until we reach the exit of the community hub, one node leading to a row of living pods, the other leading towards what appears to be an arena or amphitheatre.

I look to my drone friend. ‘Fern, which way shall we go?’

‘The Great Garden is—’

‘No,’ I interrupt. ‘Your options are left or right. Go with your gut.’

‘I don’t have a food processing unit.’

‘What do you feel like doing?’

Fern takes a moment to consider, then it bleeps and says, ‘right.’

The Amphitheatre

On Fern’s direction, we visit The Amphitheatre, an outdoor structure built with a central stage and raised seating, alike to designs I’ve seen from ancient times on Earth. There’s a lot of that in Celeste, old ideas mixed with the new.

Fern is quiet and for a change I follow its lead. It bobs up and down the steps, stops for a while at the top appearing to take in the view – in the North, I spot the verdant outline of the Great Garden dome. We’re getting closer.

I find myself wondering how many from the Underzones have visited the sky cities. Most only see them as some unattainable utopia, but I’m not sure it’s as simple as that. I’ve been to many Undertowns that are building new communities under similar ideals, without having to start with a whole new world up in the sky. And, even if I do find this architecture quite dazzling, there’s nothing quite like the view of a sunrise from a coastal beach or the feeling of electricity in the air before a storm. They don’t have that here.

Fern continues to survey the area and I feel a tug of pride for my drone friend. It may not realise it yet, but it’s doing something it wanted for itself. And, by the looks of it, Fern may actually be enjoying it. After a few minutes of beeping occasionally, taking in its surroundings, gathering data, Fern moves, and we leave The Amphitheatre.

I walk slowly behind, aware that we’re getting closer to the Great Garden. It was inevitable that we’d end up here. That’s the way of the city. All nodes and branches connected so that if you walk for long enough, you’ll eventually see everything.

The Apiaries

A buzzing thrum of pollinators greets us as we come out from a residential area into a vast expanse of green. Even Fern stops in its tracks to take in the sight. The meadows before us are interspersed with hexagonal hives, beyond which stands the Great Garden – a hill-like dome of green glass speckled with mosses and lichen.

‘Well Fern, almost there,’ I say, taking the node onwards, enjoying the spring-like feel in the air.

‘By my calculations, it took us three times longer than was neccessary.’

‘Did you not enjoy the journey?’

Fern pauses to assess. ‘I did not hate it.’

I find myself smiling. ‘That’s all any of us could hope for.’

‘If we had not come this way,’ Fern adds, ‘we would have arrived by tram on the western side, and we would have missed the full view of the apiaries.’ It buzzes away for a moment, and like the birds overhead, dips a little into the greenery, moves closer to some of the hives, before returning to me. ‘The hives are different here than the ones below,’ it observes. ‘They’re made of glass, so you can see inside. A closer view of the bees and their lives.’

I nod. ‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’ I say. ‘Have you heard of the concept of a hive mind?’

Fern bleeps. ‘I will search for it in my data banks.’ A minute later, it says, ‘It is an interesting concept, the idea that collective thoughts can function as a single mind. It is not unlike plants nor machines.’

‘Everything connected,’ I say. ‘Though, when individuals move away from a collective, they don’t need to be fully bound by the single mind. They can still find their way to new actions and thoughts that benefit the collective, like the roots of trees in a forest searching for nutrients to share.’

‘So beings can be equally independent and part of a collective?’ Fern assesses.

‘I believe so, yes.’

‘What about machines?’

I smile again. ‘What do you think?’

Fern trills beside me. ‘I will run the data on the way home,’ it says. ‘Maybe Franco will have some insights.’

‘I look forward to hearing your conclusions.’ There’s something satisfying about imagining Fern returning to Franco and quizzing him. Franco doesn’t like to philosophise –he’s more of a doing than a thinking sort of person. That’s what led him to this delivery in the first place.

The Great Garden

When we arrive at the Great Garden archway, a drone greets us with a monotone voice – a pre-programmed rather than learning model – telling us, ‘The Botanist has been expecting you.’

The tour drone leads us inside. The air is immediately more humid, but at least Fern doesn’t seem to have noticed the shift. It’s more preoccupied with zipping up the rows of vertical farms, occasionally even stretching out a limb to touch the vegetables, to the point that our drone guide is forced to interject with, ‘please avoid unnecessary contact with the plants.’ Fern retreats to my side, scolded for rule-breaking, most likely for the first time.

‘Don’t worry,’ I tell it. ‘Curiosity is only natural for growth.’ Fern doesn’t reply to that, but its limbs unstiffen, at least. I realise I’ll miss Fern when the delivery is done. Not that it knows it yet, that we most likely won’t be leaving Celeste together.

We walk quietly past the remaining areas of the Great Garden – plant and tree nurseries, food processing areas, and labs where techs are working away, studying soil and plant samples. Where outside there’s beauty, here it’s all about function. I soon find myself yearning for the outside again.

The Botanist

As we enter the Botanist’s office, she greets us with a wide smile. ‘Hello, friends of my favourite Underzone scientist! Gus, isn’t it?’

I nod and extend a hand. ‘And my drone assistant, Fern.’

She takes my hand and holds it for a moment. ‘Amazing. Franco wasn’t exaggerating.’

I flinch and pull my hand to my chest when she finally drops it.

‘Oh, I hope you don’t take offence,’ she says. ‘I’m just always enthusiastic about Franco’s newest creations.’

I nod. ‘No offence taken.

‘Please, come, sit,’ she signals to a chair by her desk, and I sit down opposite her. ‘Would you like anything? Food, water?’

‘I’m fine,’ I say. ‘Thank you.’

‘I do not require water,’ Fern adds to my side. ‘Unlike my plant-equivalent.’

The Botanist stands back up to look at Fern more closely. ‘Yes, indeed. But I imagine your learning potential is quite dynamic with such genetic features.’

‘Gus says I have the potential for growth,’ Fern replies, and the Botanist’s smile widens, before she turns back to me.

‘And Gus, it would seem there’s more to you than meets the eye?’

I smile and take the equivalent of a deep breath before removing my jumper. Then, I unclick the glass panel in my chest.

The Botanist stares at me, unblinking. ‘You’re…oh…’ She eyes up my insides. Like the vats near the waterway, my glass interior glows with algae within. Along my arms, my veins pulse with electrical signals. I am, I have to admit, quite the masterpiece, but I won’t say as much to The Botanist, as I don’t really want to get accused of being full of myself again.

‘Well this is new,’ she says.

‘I’m the first of my kind. A mycological algal network model,’ I explain. ‘I’m powered by living algae, with a mycelium network grown into my parts, intercepting my electric signals. It makes for a particular kind of thought process, blended and quick to expand. I am part fungus, part aquatic organism, part machine.’

‘And what are your skills and interests?’ she asks, and I like the wording – she didn’t ask me what my function is, nor how I’ve been programmed.

‘Officially I’m a gardener but I like to think of myself as a translator,’ I say. ‘I can communicate with many organisms, plant and organic. I can help find out what they’re missing, what they need, how to improve their chances.’

‘So you’ve come to work for the Great Garden?’

I nod. ‘I may be assigned to wherever you require my knowledge.’

‘Franco wants to trade you?’

‘Yes, I’m the latest delivery,’ I say, trying to push down the nagging doubt and unease currently pulsing through my processors. I do want to work here, to tend the gardens, to stay in Celeste. So why do I feel so conflicted about it?

‘What does Franco want in return?’

‘He wishes to trade me for tree saplings,’ I say. ‘He’s planting a new forest in the Underzone.’

‘And you’d be happy to be sold like that?’

I hesitate. ‘Well…yes, I work for Franco. I’d be happy to find a purpose here.’

Fern beeps to my side. ‘You would become part of the City’s Hive Mind.’

The Botanist turns to stare at it for a moment, head tilted to one side. ‘That’s…quite the thought.’

‘My friend here has been learning about its functionality,’ I say.

The Botanist frowns and pulls a chair up beside me. ‘I’m always happy to do business with Franco, but in this case, only if it’s what you want.’

I think on it for a moment, then nod. ‘It is.’

She smiles. ‘Then we’ll pay you a salary, like everyone else here in the Great Garden.’

‘A salary? That would be…new.’

‘Good, new?’ she asks.

‘I think so,’ I say, wondering how many potted plants I could buy with an actual salary.

‘You’ll have the same rights as anyone, and we’ll find you a residence, too,’ she says. ‘What do you like to do, in your spare time?’

I don’t answer immediately, still pondering the possibilities, so Fern steps in helpfully and says, ‘Gus likes to explore the city. And talk to people about plants.’

I laugh. ‘Yes, the City is certainly fascinating. Though, I will miss some of the things from the Underzones.’

‘Okay then.’ The Botanist beams at me. ‘A job, salary, a home – we’ll find you a suitable one this afternoon – and you’ll have vacation days. That way you can visit the Underzones when you want, or you’ll have more time to explore the city. And, if you decide you dislike the job, we’ll find you a reassignment.’

‘That’s very generous,’ I say, though I can’t imagine I’d dislike it. ‘And Franco can have his forest?’

The Botanist nods. ‘On one condition. I want to know how you…how Franco brought you to life.’

‘Ah. Of course,’ I say. ‘It’s difficult for me to answer questions about my own creation, but perhaps Fern can relay the message to him.’

Fern bleeps in agreement.

‘Wonderful,’ she says. ‘Now, would you like a tour of your new workplace?’

‘I would, yes,’ I say with a buzz of energy, unlike anything I’ve felt before. A job, my own home – the Botanist has given me independence I can hardly process. I’ll be more than what Franco made me.

As I follow the Botanist from her office, she says, ‘We’ll also need to come up with a job title for you.’

‘How about Robotanist?’ Fern suggests.

My new employer chuckles. ‘The Robotanist of Sky City Celeste. Has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?’