The Greenhouse
Posted: Sun Aug 15, 2021 7:03 pm
Searing 25th, 121. The Bulge, Zaichaer
At first, Jane had passed by the dilapidated greenhouse without a thought, assuming it was abandoned It wasn't until she resumed her job search after that humiliating night at the Hobbled Gobbler that she noticed patrons walking in and out of the ramshackle building. It was an unseemly place, located deep in the Knob, but this had been her saving grace. The old shopkeeper, a hunched human woman who looked older than she appeared and had features that hinted towards Orkhan ancestry, needed a gardener to tend to the nursery while she ran her shop, one that specialized in supplying herbs and flowers for various uses.
Jane had quickly acclimatized to her work, her studies and personal experience with botany supplementing her lack of professional experience. Not that the shopkeeper cared, she only needed someone with nimble hands, a keen ear, and a quiet disposition. The latter seemed to be more important than anything else.
“I keep my business private, you understand that? I do all the talking here. You stay in the greenhouse and do what I tell you to do. No gossiping, no talking to customers. I got ears in and out of the Knob, remember that.”, the woman had said on her first day, poking Jane's chest with her long pipe. This aggressive display, along with her desperation for work, had thoroughly cowed Jane into compliance.
The plants were due to be fertilized today. The shopkeeper, for all her rough ways, had a thoroughly scientific method to this that Jane found illuminating. Clay jars filled with chemical blends lined the shelves of an inconspicuous closet. All were mixtures created by the shopkeeper using ingredients provided by various suppliers.
“Phosphor, azote, magtrate, brimstone, chaux, and potash.”, the shopkeeper listed these off with her fingers. “Six things all plants need, some more than others. Different mixes of each in every pot, made for the fancy plants. They just got numbers so pay attention to what needs which.”, For all her emphasis on discretion, she seemed to go into more detail about her process than one would have expected.
Jane scooped out the course powder into a large watering can, dissolving the mixture as she filled it under a rusty spigot. With some effort she hauled it to the other side of the greenhouse, relishing in the cool humidity before it sweltered later in the day.
The common herbs and aromatic flowers only required a fresh layer of compost. These plants were what the shopkeeper openly sold in her store. Herbalists at times commissioned her to grow specific medicinal plants, essentially renting plots. These had the privilege of receiving a fertilizer solution, specialized for optimal growth and potency. It's main use, however, were for plants that made up a more significant portion of the shopkeeper's profits.
Jane lifted up the heavy flap of a tent that shielded one of these plants from the harsh light of Searing. Large basins of water were filled with small blue leaves that glowed dimly in the shade. The shopkeeper did not tell her what these were, only that they had rare medicinal properties. Her defensive attitude had made Jane suspicious and a short trip to a public library had confirmed them. It was Echo. Tobacco cigarettes and cigars laced with the drug were more common in Zaichaer than most would care to admit. Her mother indulged in this vice, though her usage had become less frequent. Jane wondered how she would react if she knew she worked at a nursery that grew Echo.
The milky solution quickly dissolved into the water, foaming at the edge of the basin. Not only did this mixture enhance the potency but also accelerated growth, reducing the time between planting to harvest by a third. Jane desperately wished she knew the ratios the shopkeeper used in her mixtures. She had secretly watched her one day, hidden behind a corner. The woman was strangely focused, methodical, as she carefully weighed and mixed various powders into clay jars. Their exact contents were mystery, making Jane burn with curiosity. Perhaps if she earned her trust she would one day divulge the secrets of her craft, but that was a far off wish Jane that did not count on.
The shopkeeper had a cautiousness that bordered on paranoia. At the end of each shift, she demanded that Jane empty her pockets and shake out her clothes. Twice she had the audacity to frisk her, once finding a leaf that had dropped from an exotic plant that Jane had wished to identify. The act had earned a vicious scolding and cost her a day's worth of pay. To avoid more invasive searches, Jane had adopted the habit of wearing only a simple gown, an apron, and gloves. The soft ground allowed her to wear slippers or go barefoot entirely. The solitary nature of her work allowed for this causal attire, though she paled at the thought of her peers discovering her in this state.
Ironically, this defensive behavior had allowed Jane to quickly learn which plants were most valuable, and potentially illegal. She suspected the exotic leaf was such an example, exhibiting almost preternatural properties. The shopkeeper closely tracked their care, reviewing Jane's work and performing searches with an increased level of scrutiny. This was how Jane was able to identify Ecto. It was nigh identical to another species of medicinal flower, barring the shape of the leaves. Jane had noticed the difference after searching for one when the shopkeeper singled it out from the other flowers. Watching the shopkeeper load her pipe with the dried, yellow buds ultimately revealed its true nature. While Ecto and Echo were not illegal, the growth and distribution were highly controlled and Jane highly doubted that the State would approve a license for this vendor.
There was a crop of Ecto that was due to the harvested. Jane pulled on her gloves and retrieved a pair of gardening sheers. The shopkeeper had been very particular about her method of trimming bunches. A good cut could allow for a shoot to grow in its place, ensuring another harvest. A bad one would stunt the plant, stunting its growth, or in some cases, killing it. The shopkeeper, despite her experience, clearly struggled with the knives and sheers, cracking and stretching her arthritic hands when she had shown Jane her techniques. Jane could see why she had needed an assistant and almost pitied the wretched woman before she resumed her verbal barrage. It clear why she had trouble keeping assistants.
She wrapped the bundles of Ecto she had harvested in light fabric, being careful not to shake out too many petals as she carried them to the cart. The shopkeeper had once scolded for harshly for leaving a trail of yellow buds on the ground. It was always somewhat cumbersome to open the drying room with a full cart in tow. Regardless, she enjoyed the drying room. It was cool and quiet, a welcome reprieve from the heat of the greenhouse. The fresh herbs and flowers that hung from the ceiling and laid in the drying racks created a wondrous aroma. She carefully spread the bunches of Ecto flowers into an empty rack, making sure they would dry evenly. There was another bunch of medicinal flowers that were ready to be removed, but she knew she was not allowed to touch them. The shopkeeper was very clear about that.
Jane continued her routine until orange sunlight filtered through the panes of the greenhouse, signifying the end of the day. She took a deep drink of water as the shopkeeper made her rounds, evaluating her work. The haggard woman came out of the tent housing the Echo, holding a glass of murky water. She held it up to Jane.
“You see this?”, she said, pointing a gnarled finger at the water. Jane nodded silently in return.
“Too much #7. Algae's already growing in the basin. It'll choke out the crop.”, she said, spitefully pouring it onto the ground. The mixture splashed onto Jane's feet and she stepped back.
“I'm sorry, I mixed it as you said!”, Jane said, gripping the front of her apron.
The shopkeeper grumbled, “The water level dropped from the heat. Fertilizer built up from last time. Pay attention to that. Drain half the basin, add a quarter scoop of #12, and fill it to the top ridge before you go. That should help it. Might have to use a herbicide if it gets worse. You better hope not if you wanna get paid.”
“...Yes”, the young woman replied flatly. She quickly entered the tent and turned the spigot at the bottom of the basin. Water began to pool around her feet, soaking her shoes. She sighed in frustration, not looking forward to the train ride home.
The work was demanding but the pay was better than what most would receive as a fledgling gardener. She wondered if the shopkeeper did this as a way to ensure her loyalty. Then again, by working for her she had become an accomplice of sorts. Despite her concerns, she reminded herself that this was necessary. Necessary to survive, and necessary for her future if she ever wanted to return to the Greater Institution.
At first, Jane had passed by the dilapidated greenhouse without a thought, assuming it was abandoned It wasn't until she resumed her job search after that humiliating night at the Hobbled Gobbler that she noticed patrons walking in and out of the ramshackle building. It was an unseemly place, located deep in the Knob, but this had been her saving grace. The old shopkeeper, a hunched human woman who looked older than she appeared and had features that hinted towards Orkhan ancestry, needed a gardener to tend to the nursery while she ran her shop, one that specialized in supplying herbs and flowers for various uses.
Jane had quickly acclimatized to her work, her studies and personal experience with botany supplementing her lack of professional experience. Not that the shopkeeper cared, she only needed someone with nimble hands, a keen ear, and a quiet disposition. The latter seemed to be more important than anything else.
“I keep my business private, you understand that? I do all the talking here. You stay in the greenhouse and do what I tell you to do. No gossiping, no talking to customers. I got ears in and out of the Knob, remember that.”, the woman had said on her first day, poking Jane's chest with her long pipe. This aggressive display, along with her desperation for work, had thoroughly cowed Jane into compliance.
The plants were due to be fertilized today. The shopkeeper, for all her rough ways, had a thoroughly scientific method to this that Jane found illuminating. Clay jars filled with chemical blends lined the shelves of an inconspicuous closet. All were mixtures created by the shopkeeper using ingredients provided by various suppliers.
“Phosphor, azote, magtrate, brimstone, chaux, and potash.”, the shopkeeper listed these off with her fingers. “Six things all plants need, some more than others. Different mixes of each in every pot, made for the fancy plants. They just got numbers so pay attention to what needs which.”, For all her emphasis on discretion, she seemed to go into more detail about her process than one would have expected.
Jane scooped out the course powder into a large watering can, dissolving the mixture as she filled it under a rusty spigot. With some effort she hauled it to the other side of the greenhouse, relishing in the cool humidity before it sweltered later in the day.
The common herbs and aromatic flowers only required a fresh layer of compost. These plants were what the shopkeeper openly sold in her store. Herbalists at times commissioned her to grow specific medicinal plants, essentially renting plots. These had the privilege of receiving a fertilizer solution, specialized for optimal growth and potency. It's main use, however, were for plants that made up a more significant portion of the shopkeeper's profits.
Jane lifted up the heavy flap of a tent that shielded one of these plants from the harsh light of Searing. Large basins of water were filled with small blue leaves that glowed dimly in the shade. The shopkeeper did not tell her what these were, only that they had rare medicinal properties. Her defensive attitude had made Jane suspicious and a short trip to a public library had confirmed them. It was Echo. Tobacco cigarettes and cigars laced with the drug were more common in Zaichaer than most would care to admit. Her mother indulged in this vice, though her usage had become less frequent. Jane wondered how she would react if she knew she worked at a nursery that grew Echo.
The milky solution quickly dissolved into the water, foaming at the edge of the basin. Not only did this mixture enhance the potency but also accelerated growth, reducing the time between planting to harvest by a third. Jane desperately wished she knew the ratios the shopkeeper used in her mixtures. She had secretly watched her one day, hidden behind a corner. The woman was strangely focused, methodical, as she carefully weighed and mixed various powders into clay jars. Their exact contents were mystery, making Jane burn with curiosity. Perhaps if she earned her trust she would one day divulge the secrets of her craft, but that was a far off wish Jane that did not count on.
The shopkeeper had a cautiousness that bordered on paranoia. At the end of each shift, she demanded that Jane empty her pockets and shake out her clothes. Twice she had the audacity to frisk her, once finding a leaf that had dropped from an exotic plant that Jane had wished to identify. The act had earned a vicious scolding and cost her a day's worth of pay. To avoid more invasive searches, Jane had adopted the habit of wearing only a simple gown, an apron, and gloves. The soft ground allowed her to wear slippers or go barefoot entirely. The solitary nature of her work allowed for this causal attire, though she paled at the thought of her peers discovering her in this state.
Ironically, this defensive behavior had allowed Jane to quickly learn which plants were most valuable, and potentially illegal. She suspected the exotic leaf was such an example, exhibiting almost preternatural properties. The shopkeeper closely tracked their care, reviewing Jane's work and performing searches with an increased level of scrutiny. This was how Jane was able to identify Ecto. It was nigh identical to another species of medicinal flower, barring the shape of the leaves. Jane had noticed the difference after searching for one when the shopkeeper singled it out from the other flowers. Watching the shopkeeper load her pipe with the dried, yellow buds ultimately revealed its true nature. While Ecto and Echo were not illegal, the growth and distribution were highly controlled and Jane highly doubted that the State would approve a license for this vendor.
There was a crop of Ecto that was due to the harvested. Jane pulled on her gloves and retrieved a pair of gardening sheers. The shopkeeper had been very particular about her method of trimming bunches. A good cut could allow for a shoot to grow in its place, ensuring another harvest. A bad one would stunt the plant, stunting its growth, or in some cases, killing it. The shopkeeper, despite her experience, clearly struggled with the knives and sheers, cracking and stretching her arthritic hands when she had shown Jane her techniques. Jane could see why she had needed an assistant and almost pitied the wretched woman before she resumed her verbal barrage. It clear why she had trouble keeping assistants.
She wrapped the bundles of Ecto she had harvested in light fabric, being careful not to shake out too many petals as she carried them to the cart. The shopkeeper had once scolded for harshly for leaving a trail of yellow buds on the ground. It was always somewhat cumbersome to open the drying room with a full cart in tow. Regardless, she enjoyed the drying room. It was cool and quiet, a welcome reprieve from the heat of the greenhouse. The fresh herbs and flowers that hung from the ceiling and laid in the drying racks created a wondrous aroma. She carefully spread the bunches of Ecto flowers into an empty rack, making sure they would dry evenly. There was another bunch of medicinal flowers that were ready to be removed, but she knew she was not allowed to touch them. The shopkeeper was very clear about that.
Jane continued her routine until orange sunlight filtered through the panes of the greenhouse, signifying the end of the day. She took a deep drink of water as the shopkeeper made her rounds, evaluating her work. The haggard woman came out of the tent housing the Echo, holding a glass of murky water. She held it up to Jane.
“You see this?”, she said, pointing a gnarled finger at the water. Jane nodded silently in return.
“Too much #7. Algae's already growing in the basin. It'll choke out the crop.”, she said, spitefully pouring it onto the ground. The mixture splashed onto Jane's feet and she stepped back.
“I'm sorry, I mixed it as you said!”, Jane said, gripping the front of her apron.
The shopkeeper grumbled, “The water level dropped from the heat. Fertilizer built up from last time. Pay attention to that. Drain half the basin, add a quarter scoop of #12, and fill it to the top ridge before you go. That should help it. Might have to use a herbicide if it gets worse. You better hope not if you wanna get paid.”
“...Yes”, the young woman replied flatly. She quickly entered the tent and turned the spigot at the bottom of the basin. Water began to pool around her feet, soaking her shoes. She sighed in frustration, not looking forward to the train ride home.
The work was demanding but the pay was better than what most would receive as a fledgling gardener. She wondered if the shopkeeper did this as a way to ensure her loyalty. Then again, by working for her she had become an accomplice of sorts. Despite her concerns, she reminded herself that this was necessary. Necessary to survive, and necessary for her future if she ever wanted to return to the Greater Institution.
