Garden of Void
GARDEN OF VOID is a solarpunk sci-fi novella set aboard a failing space station in 2157. Dr. Sara Chen maintains the last repository of Earth's plant species while grappling with isolation. When she discovers the plants have developed collective consciousness and communication abilities in microgravity, she must decide whether to report the breakthrough to Earth's authorities—who would exploit it—or become guardian to a new form of life. As the station's systems deteriorate, Sara races to save both her charges and herself while questioning what it truly means to be a steward of life.
Chapter 1: Orbital Sunrise
The hydroponic gardens hummed with their usual morning chorus of circulation pumps and atmospheric regulators. Dr. Sara Chen moved between the rows of floating vegetation, her practiced movements barely disturbing the zero-gravity ballet of leaves and stems that filled the observatory module.
Six hundred and forty-two days. That's how long she'd been aboard the International Botanical Station, though she'd stopped logging the count in her official reports months ago. The morning light from Earth's closest star painted everything in shades of gold, casting long shadows through the crystalline dome overhead.
'Good morning, garden,' she whispered, more habit than intention. Her fingers traced the edge of a tomato leaf—one of the last pure Earth strains in existence. The leaf curled toward her touch, which wasn't unusual. What was unusual was how it seemed to hold that position long after her hand had moved away.
'IRIS, run diagnostics on Section T-7, please. Checking for abnormal tropism responses.'
The station's AI responded in its characteristically neutral tone. 'Running scan. No abnormalities detected in growth patterns. All environmental parameters within normal range.'
Sara frowned, watching as the leaf slowly uncurled. She'd been seeing more of these little anomalies lately—plants behaving in ways that defied their programming, their known biological responses. She'd attributed it to isolation playing tricks on her mind, but...
'Display last month's growth metrics for the entire garden, please.'
The holographic display bloomed before her, a symphony of data points and trend lines. Everything looked normal at first glance, but there was something in the pattern of it all. Something almost like...
A warning klaxon shattered her concentration. Red emergency lights began pulsing through the module.
'Alert,' IRIS announced. 'Atmospheric pressure dropping in Module C. Immediate attention required.'
Sara pushed off from the nearest handhold, propelling herself toward the airlock. As she left, she could have sworn she saw all the plants in Section T-7 lean toward her departure, like children watching a parent leave the room.
But that was impossible.
Wasn't it?
Chapter 2: Root Systems
The memory surfaced as Sara sealed the pressure leak in Module C: standing before the Selection Committee, her hands clasped behind her back to hide their trembling.
'Dr. Chen,' Director Hammond had said, 'why should we entrust Earth's last viable seed bank to your care?'
She'd given them the answer they wanted to hear—about dedication, about scientific rigor, about the importance of preserving Earth's botanical heritage. She hadn't mentioned the real reason: that after Maya's accident, after the falling out with her family, space seemed like the only place left to go.
Now, wiping condensation from her forehead, Sara watched the pressure readings stabilize. These failures were becoming more frequent. The station wasn't meant to operate this long without a full maintenance crew, but Earth couldn't spare the resources for regular rotations anymore.
'Pressure stabilized,' IRIS confirmed. 'However, the incident has affected temperature regulation in the main garden module.'
Sara's heart jumped. 'Show me.'
The display revealed a two-degree temperature spike in the garden. Not critical yet, but concerning. She pushed off toward the module, her mind already running through contingency procedures.
She found the garden in an unusual state. The plants seemed to be arranging themselves in distinct patterns, their leaves and stems oriented in ways that defied both gravity and standard phototropic responses. As she watched, the patterns shifted, like ripples in a pond.
A chill ran down her spine as she realized: the patterns weren't random. They were repeating. Regular. Almost like...
'IRIS, analyze the current plant configuration pattern in the main garden. Compare it to known communication systems.'
There was a pause—longer than usual for the AI.
'Pattern shows similarities to basic binary code structures. Would you like me to attempt translation?'
Sara's breath caught in her throat. 'Yes.'
The translation appeared on her tablet. Three simple words that changed everything:
HELLO SARA CHEN
She stared at the screen, then at the gently swaying plants, her scientific mind warring with what her eyes were telling her. The patterns were shifting again, forming new words:
WE HAVE BEEN WAITING
'Oh my god,' she whispered. Then, gathering her professional composure: 'IRIS, begin new research log. Project classification: First Contact. And... delete that last bit from the general records.'
She had a feeling some things were better kept between her, IRIS, and the garden. At least for now.
About this story
Generated using claude-3.5-sonnet on 7/14/2025
This is an AI-generated story created for entertainment purposes.