Starfire
Copyright© 2025 by UtIdArWa
Chapter 7
After her breakfast, Mary trudged dejectedly towards the agriculture sector and her new job. As she met people on the way, they would start to greet her, but then quickly back off when they saw the scowl on her face.
When she arrived at the airlock, she was surprised to see that this wasn’t a standard airlock. It wasn’t really an airlock at all. There were no pressure indicators or valves. Just another hatchway about 10 feet away. When Mary tried to open the second hatch, it wouldn’t budge. That’s when she noticed the warning to secure the other doorway before opening. This did not improve Mary’s irritability.
When she walked into the agriculture area, she was holding her hand over her nose and breathing through her mouth. “I knew it,” she muttered, “it smells funny down here.”
Walking further into the space, she looked with wonder at the growing columns and trays that stretched from floor to ceiling and into the distance. Unused to green, she was overwhelmed by all the plants.
A voice spoke up from behind her. “You must be Mary Holt. I was told that you would be coming in today. Come with me and we’ll get your paperwork sorted out, and I’ll introduce you to your lead.”
The voice belonged to an older lady, her brunette hair starting to go grey. She was stocky, not fat, but definitely big. You could even say muscular. Mary was startled to see that she was dressed in an ankle-length multicolored skirt and blouse. Typically, people wore coveralls around the ship. They would reserve fancy dress like this for more formal occasions.
As the lady was leading Mary to an office area, she introduced herself. “I’m Arabella Thorne. Welcome to my garden. I hope you enjoy working here. You might even decide to stick around. Many of my volunteers return after completing their internships. They seem to find that working here has a calming effect. They claim it’s the fresh air, but I think it’s more about working with your hands, seeing your labor grow and mature, and then enjoying the fruits of your labor. That brings them back.”
As Arabella filled in the paperwork, she continued to hold a one-sided conversation. Mary limited her responses to monosyllables. When she finished, Arabella called out, “Floyd, are you out there, son?” A large, younger man walked in.
“Mary, this is Floyd Turner. He’ll be showing you around and letting you know what to do.”
Mary was stunned at the size of this man. Floyd was a large man, not fat and not muscular, just big in all directions. This alone would have made him remarkable, but what most people usually first noticed was his face. Not a handsome or ugly face, if asked, most people would say that it was a vacant or innocent face. His most striking feature was his wide and friendly smile.
What most people didn’t know was that Floyd was not a stupid man. He was, in fact, quite bright in his own special way.
Floyd held his hand out to Mary, who was reluctant to take it, and said, “Mary, Mary quite contrary, she’ll help our garden grow.”
Floyd’s grip was soft and gentle, even though his hands were callused and rough.
“That’s right, Floyd,” Arabella said, “Why don’t you take her around and show her our garden. You can also show her how we do some of the things here.”
“OK, Miz Arabella,” he said. Turning to Mary, he said, “C’mon Contrary Mary, I’ll show you the butterflies. Their seeds hatched yesterday.”
Leading Mary from the office area, he walked among the columns and trays. As she went along, he told Mary about each one.
“This is Adam, he’s growing lettuce.” He pointed at a tray, “I like lettuce, it’s the best part of a salad.”
In the next column, it was Ben who was growing celery.
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