Precious Dirt

By L. J. Skelton

Amara hummed as she worked in her tiny lab, her makeshift greenhouse tucked into a corner of the roof of the industrial complex. She remembered reading about a study done many years ago about the positive effects of music on plants. What must it have been like back then to have so many plants to study? So many plants that humans had to develop chemicals to kill them, even.

Amara wished she had lived in the past when plants were plentiful. The time before technology had replaced the need to grow crops for food—before all the dirt had been contaminated. Machines now purified the air, converting carbon dioxide into oxygen under the dome that protected them from the sun. Once, the Earth had had its own protection. Sky overhead and dirt below. Now all it had was pavement, metal and glass.

Amara had dirt, though—some artificially produced and some oh-so-precious natural, carefully collected and organized in what little area she’d managed to procure for her studies. She’d watched her space and budget shrink over the last few years as the dirt samples and seed supply dwindled down to nothing.  Sometimes she felt that she was the only one who still cared, the only one who longed to breathe real oxygen again, to see the natural colors of flowers, and not just here in the sparse greenhouse.

Most of the scientists taking over were too young to care about restoring the world to the way it was, and most of her older colleagues had moved on to other more productive studies. But Amara refused to give up, determined to recover the secrets that no one knew anymore now that Mother Nature was all but gone.

The promise of flowers kept her positive as she hummed and bopped away, doing the best she could with what little she had. She planted seeds, marking them with carefully printed labels: Daisy and Rose.

Determined not to focus on the failures she’d experienced so far, she kept planting, recording, improving. Some of the new plants would grow, she just knew it. Look at the success she’d had already; the proof was right here in the precious green leaves, smooth and healthy under her fingertips. She ran her fingers over a patch of spindly grass, touched the tender bark of an actual tree. A cheerful dooby-doo-wop chant bubbled up from the back corners of her memory and she sang under her breath as she cared for them.

A soft knock on the glass door startled her; visitors to her warm, humid space were rare. Most preferred the cool, dry, sterile environments of the offices and labs downstairs.

She smiled as she recognized Danner, a Rover from her department. There weren’t many Rovers left. Fewer and fewer brave souls were willing to go searching for natural artifacts and samples as the world outside the dome became more dangerous. He’d been gone for months, and correspondence away from the city was sporadic at best. Her relief at having him back safely made her realize just how much she’d missed him.

His arms wrapped around her in a tight hug, and she breathed in the foreign scents that still clung to his jacket and hair. Real smells, not the chemicals and sanitized air that surrounded them here in this artificial vault.

“I brought you something,” he said, shrugging out of the straps of his backpack and setting it on the table with a promising thump.

She watched eagerly as he pulled out several wrapped packages, lining them up before her with a pleased glint in his eyes. This couldn’t all be for her, could it? He wouldn’t have had room to carry anything else. He opened them one by one, smiling at her delighted reactions to the containers of rich brown dirt, all varying shades and textures, along with little paper envelopes that unfolded to reveal seeds of all shapes and sizes. She picked one up and held it to the light, marveling at its unusual flat shape and pale color.

“What are they?” she whispered as she took them all in, her imagination running wild with possibilities.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Could be anything. Flowers? Vegetables, even. You’ll just have to plant them to find out what grows. And this…” He held up a metal jug, unscrewing the cap for her to smell the contents. She didn’t smell anything. “Real spring water,” he answered her questioning look.

“No! How? Where?” she stammered in excitement.

“I’ll tell you all about it later. I wanted to bring you some so you could start testing, but there’s more coming. This could be the key to everything, Amara. This could be it.”

She threw her arms around him again, blinking back happy tears—an emotion she hadn’t experienced in so, so long.

A seed packet clutched to her chest, she watched him slip out the door after he promised to come back and help her catalog and organize all their new finds.

Looked like there was someone who still cared, after all.

Can you guess which song from the 1990's inspired this story? Share in the comments!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

L. J. Skelton is a cowgirl, teacher, and floral designer with over 25 years experience showing and training horses. She earned her Bachelor of Science in Psychology from Penn State University, then used her affinity for people watching at a wide variety of occupations to gather inspiration for writing. She lives in rural northwestern Pennsylvania with her husband and beloved dog, horse, and cats.

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