The Snot-Colored Bud

The mud was the best part of spring. It was cold and it felt like wet chocolate, but you couldn't eat it because it tasted like salt and old pennies. Toby sat on his heels in the middle of the Green Cube. The Cube was supposed to be a park, but it was really just a big glass box with a dirt floor where the city let things grow if they felt like it. The air inside smelled like a wet dog that had been washed with lemon soap. It was a Utopian smell. Everything in the year 2026 was supposed to smell like lemons or nothing at all.

"Don't touch that," Leo said. Leo was nineteen and always acted like his brain was too heavy for his neck. He was leaning against a plastic tree that was trying very hard to look like an oak. "It’s probably got, like, nano-fertilizer on it. You’ll grow a third ear or something."

"I want a third ear," Toby said. He poked a small, pale green bump sticking out of the mud. It was the first bloom of the season. It looked like a tiny, clenched fist. "Then I could hear what the dirt is saying."

"The dirt is saying it’s tired of us," Leo muttered. He checked his wrist-link. The screen was cracked. A thin line of light bled across the glass, making his skin look green. "The sky-mesh is flickering again. Did you see the news? The Great Brightness is losing its juice. They say the sun might actually look like a sun again by Friday. Not just a soft-box light."

Toby didn't care about the sun. The sun was just a big lamp in the sky that made him sweat when he played grav-ball. He cared about the bud. It was ugly. It was the color of snot. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen because it wasn't made of plastic and it wasn't clean.

"Is the world ending?" Toby asked. He said it the same way he might ask if it was time for lunch.

"Not ending," Leo said. He kicked a loose pebble. It skittered across the floor and hit a robotic bee that was humming near a clump of dandelions. The bee didn't fly away. It just spun in a circle, its little metal wings buzzing with a sound like a broken hair dryer. "It’s just... changing. The Utopia is getting a bit dusty. The 'Perfect Era' has a scheduled maintenance window that’s lasted three years now. It’s mid, Toby. The whole vibe is just mid."

"You use that word too much," Toby said. "What’s mid?"

"It means it’s not great, but it’s not bad enough to scream about. It’s just... there. Like school. Or those protein bars that taste like chalky blueberries."

Leo sat down in the mud next to Toby. He didn't care about his white trousers getting stained. That was how Toby knew things were actually serious. Leo usually spent twenty minutes every morning making sure his hair looked like it hadn't been touched by wind. Today, his hair was a mess. It looked like a bird had tried to start a business in it and then went bankrupt.

"Look at this flower, Leo. It’s trying really hard."

Leo squinted at the snot-colored bud. "It looks like it’s struggling. Everything is struggling. Even the plants have to work overtime to breathe this recycled air. You know, when Mom was a kid, she said the flowers just grew. Everywhere. You didn't need a Cube. You didn't need a permit. You just walked outside and there was grass. Real grass. Not this bio-turf stuff that feels like itchy carpet."

"I like the turf," Toby said. "It doesn't have bugs."

"Bugs are part of the deal, Tobes. No bugs, no fun. That’s what’s wrong with everything. We traded the bugs for safety, and now we’re just bored and the sky is turning grey because the filters are clogged with old dreams and carbon."

Leo was being dramatic again. He liked to talk like he was in a movie about the end of history. Toby ignored him and leaned closer to the bud. He could see a tiny drop of water clinging to the tip. It wasn't a perfect drop. It was lopsided.

"Do you think it’s happy?" Toby asked.

"The flower? It’s a plant, Toby. It doesn't have feelings. It just has chemistry."

"I think it’s happy because it’s out. It was in the dark for a long time. Now it’s here."

Leo sighed, a long, shaky sound that made his shoulders drop. "Maybe. Or maybe it’s looking around at this glass cage and wondering why it bothered. Look at the sky, Toby. Seriously."

Toby looked up. Usually, the sky was a perfect, flat blue, like a screen that had been set to the most boring color possible. But today, there were streaks of charcoal grey. They looked like long fingers reaching across the ceiling of the world. The Great Brightness—the massive array of lights and mirrors that kept the city in a state of eternal, pleasant afternoon—was humming. It was a low, vibrating sound that you felt in your teeth more than you heard in your ears.

"It’s pretty," Toby said.

"It’s a power failure," Leo corrected. "The Grid is starving. People are saying the Outer Zones have already gone dark. Like, actually dark. No streetlights. No floor-glow. Just the stars. Have you ever seen a star, Toby?"

"In the books. They look like dots."

"They look like fire," Leo said. His voice was different now. Not as witty. Not as sharp. "Mom told me they look like someone poked holes in a black velvet curtain and put a flashlight behind it. I think I want to see them. Even if it means the heater stops working."

Toby looked back at the bud. If the heater stopped working, the bud would freeze. It would turn from snot-green to black. It would shrivel up and go back into the mud.

"I don't want it to be dark," Toby said. His stomach felt tight, like he’d swallowed a rock. "I like the lights. I like being able to see my feet."

"You’re such a coward," Leo teased, but he reached out and ruffled Toby’s hair. His hand felt warm. "It’s okay. We’ll just get flashlights. We’ll be like explorers. We can hunt for those giant rats people say live in the old subway tunnels."

"Are there really giant rats?"

"Probably. Everything gets bigger in the dark."

A loud crack echoed through the Cube. It sounded like a giant snapping a dry twig. Both boys jumped. Toby’s heart started thumping against his ribs like a trapped bird. Up above, one of the massive glass panels in the ceiling shifted. A thin line of real, cold air drifted down. It didn't smell like lemons. It smelled like wet stone and something sharp, like electricity.

"The seals are breaking," Leo whispered. He stood up, pulling Toby with him. "Okay, maybe we should go home. This vibe just went from mid to actually scary."

"Wait!" Toby cried. He lunged back toward the flower. "We have to save it!"

"Save what? The weed? Toby, come on, the ceiling might fall."

"It’s not a weed! It’s the first one!" Toby scrambled on his hands and knees, scooping up a big hunk of mud with the bud right in the center. He didn't care that the mud was getting under his fingernails or staining his shirt. He cradled the cold, heavy lump against his chest.

"You’re a weird kid," Leo said, but he didn't make him put it back. He grabbed Toby’s hand and started pulling him toward the exit.

Around them, the other people in the Green Cube were starting to notice. A lady in a silver jumpsuit stopped jogging and stared at the sky. A group of kids stopped playing with their hovering discs. The humming sound from the Great Brightness grew louder, turning into a screech. It was the sound of a machine trying to do something it wasn't built for.

"Run," Leo said.

They sprinted across the bio-turf. Toby’s boots made a thwack-thwack sound. He held the mud-clump tight. He could feel the tiny bud pressing against his ribs. It felt fragile. It felt like it might break if he breathed too hard.

They reached the heavy airlock doors just as the lights flickered. For a second, everything went pitch black. Toby gasped. He had never been in total darkness before. It was like being underwater with your eyes closed. Then, the emergency lights kicked in—a dull, sickly orange.

Leo leaned his head against the cool metal of the door. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"The silence," Leo said. "The city stopped humming."

Toby looked down at the mud in his hands. In the orange light, the snot-colored bud looked orange, too. It didn't look like it was struggling anymore. It just looked like it was waiting.

"Is it nighttime now?" Toby asked.

"No," Leo said, looking through the glass door at the street outside. The tall, white buildings were fading into the grey shadows. The holographic advertisements for 'Perfect-Health Soda' and 'Digital-Joy Subscriptions' were flickering out one by one. "It’s just the end of the long afternoon."

They stepped out onto the sidewalk. The air was much colder here. There were no heaters in the street anymore. People were standing still, looking up. They looked like statues. They looked ridiculous, Toby thought. Their mouths were open and they were holding their expensive devices, waiting for them to tell them what to do. But the devices were dark.

"Leo?"

"Yeah?"

"Where do we go?"

Leo looked left, then right. He looked at the shadows growing between the towers. Then he looked at Toby and the little plant. A small, bleak smirk touched his lips.

"We go home," Leo said. "We find some candles. And then we see if that thing of yours actually grows in the dark."

As they walked, Toby noticed something. The grey streaks in the sky were moving. They were clouds. Real clouds. He had only seen them in history videos. They looked heavy and soft, like giant pillows filled with rain.

Suddenly, the orange emergency lights on the street poles shivered and died.

A woman nearby screamed, a short, sharp sound that was immediately swallowed by the wind. The wind was new. It wasn't the gentle, filtered breeze of the Cube. It was wild. It smelled of old things, of dirt and distance. It pushed against Toby’s back, urging him forward.

"I can't see my feet, Leo!" Toby shouted. He felt a surge of panic. The ground felt like it had disappeared.

"Grab my jacket!" Leo’s voice was close. Toby reached out and found the rough fabric of Leo’s sleeve. He held on tight.

They walked through a world that was rapidly losing its edges. The Utopia was dissolving into a soup of shadows. Toby squeezed the mud-clump. He felt a tiny, sharp prick against his thumb.

"Ow," he whispered.

"What?"

"It poked me," Toby said. "The flower. It has a thorn or something."

"Good," Leo said. "It’s going to need it."

They turned the corner onto their block. Their apartment building was a tall, dark finger pointing at the messy sky. Usually, it glowed with a thousand friendly blue lights. Now, it was just a hole in the air.

As they reached the front steps, the first drop of rain hit Toby’s forehead. It was cold. It was startling. It felt like a tiny electric shock.

"It’s leaking," Toby said, looking up at the sky.

"It’s raining, Toby. It’s actually raining."

They stood there for a moment, two small figures in the deepening gloom, as the sky began to pour its long-held secrets onto the pavement. The water washed the lemon-scent away, replacing it with the raw, metallic tang of a world waking up from a long sleep.

In Toby's hands, the snot-colored bud drank the rain.