Work Text:
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[Grian]
Okay, so yet again, Impulse found a tape down in artifact storage. However, this one is marked with a statement number, so it's definitely one of ours. The problem is, the tape shell is smashed. I don’t know how on earth it was damaged this badly, but unfortunately the casing isn’t salvageable, and I don’t want to risk screwing up a shell swap, so… (Sighs) We’re going to have to re-record it. So I guess with that little explanation out of the way, I’ll let Etho do the talking. Statement begins.
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[Etho]
Okay…statement of Bdubs, regarding…
[Bdubs]
Can we just say “spooky moss”? Is that allowed?
[Etho]
Technically yes, but I’m sure the people listening to this in the future will complain if it's not scientific or fancy enough for them, so I guess “abnormal plant growth”?
[Bdubs]
Fine by me.
[Etho]
Okey-dokey! Statement of Bdubs, regarding abnormal plant growth. Ah, statement recorded direct from subject, November 12, 2023. Statement begins.
And go.
[Bdubs]
I’ve never had a problem with nature.
That’s probably a weird way to start this, but I figure it’s important to point out. I love nature. Always have, and probably always will, even despite the, ahem, current circumstances. I love plants, I love animals, and all that jazz—bring on the happy little trees, ya know? And so I’m sure it surprised no one when I took up an interest in terrariums.
The idea that you could take a bunch of little plants that were already beautiful, and arrange them in such a way that they make something that’s even more beautiful—it was a captivating idea! I had already accumulated quite a few of them when all of this started, a couple begonias, a few ferns, and some succulents too, but what had caught my eye at the moment was moss terrariums. People would place little structures, or statues, or whatever other trinkets they would find into the terrarium, and then when the moss would spread, it would create a mini landscaping.
Needless to say, it was adorable, and I had to try my hand at making one. So I rubbed a small glazed ceramic house I had made a few years prior—one with a little chimney and everything—with a bit of sandpaper to give the moss something to cling to, dusted it with dirt, and placed it inside the container. Once I was satisfied with how the display looked, I persuaded a friend of mine to let me borrow one of his horses for a day, and off into the forest I rode.
I scoured logs, rocks, trees, and anywhere else I could think of looking for the perfect moss to take home, but nothing really stood out to me. The patches I found weren’t green enough, or soft enough, or interesting enough. I needed something that was going to make the terrarium really pop with color and life.
And that’s when it caught my eye.
It was a humongous patch of dicranum scoparium—better known as broom moss—except it looked way softer than the normal variety, and was such a vivid shade of green that I wondered if it was even real. And, on top of that, it was healthy despite growing on a tree that was in full sunlight, which is unheard of in broom moss, since it needs at least partial shade. At the time, I guess I was so excited about the idea of possibly discovering some sort of new species that I didn’t really stop to think about how it was doing it. I just hopped off Lulu—that’s the horse, by the way—popped open the little plastic container I had brought, and gently started pulling the moss from the bark.
I remember that my fingers itched a bit when I touched it, and for a moment I was worried I was having an allergic reaction to it. But when nothing else happened, I figured it must have just been some sort of dirt or other tiny debris that was causing it, and I brushed it off. Soon enough, the container was full. I turned around to find Lulu so we could leave, and I did…but something was off.
She was staring straight at the container with wide eyes, her nostrils flared and her ears pinned back. I took a step forward, holding out a hand to calm her down, and she just became even more agitated, pawing the ground and whinnying, scrambling backwards so fast you’d think a wolf was after her.
Now listen, Lulu is no skittish little Thoroughbred. She’s a beautiful, calm and collected Friesian, white as snow and graceful as a swan. She’s not prone to startling, even in the presence of loud noises. But something about the moss scared her, and that made me uneasy. You know what they say, about animals sensing danger before us? Well, I’ve always been a believer In that sort of thing, so I did the one thing I could think to do.
I put the moss back.
I placed it back on the bark, and I gently pressed down on it so it could reroot itself. My hands got even itchier as they sank into its thick, velvety carpet of stems, and for a moment I felt a sharp pain. I yanked my hands back, expecting to be bleeding or something, but they were completely fine, and the pain was gone. It made me a little uneasy, I’ll admit, but I was more disappointed than anything. Deciding I would try again a different day, I rode home.
And I thought that was that, no harm no foul. The moss was gone, I was fine, and Lulu was back home with all the other horses, far away from whatever it was about the plant that had spooked her. It was a win-win for everyone.
That’s what I thought, but of course if that was the case, I wouldn’t be here talking to you about it, would I?
The next day I was tending to my other plants, minding my own business, when I spotted something green out of the corner of my eye. Something very green. It was a small clump, resting innocently between my begonias like it hadn’t not been there the day before.
At first I figured that maybe some spores had been brought home on my hands, or in the container, and I just hadn’t noticed before. So I pulled the moss out and threw it away, and expected that to be it.
But then it came back.
I woke up the very next morning to find it right where it had been, except it was bigger, and there was more of it in the other terrariums. It was spreading. This time I didn’t hesitate to rip out each and every last clump, and toss them into the trash. I took it out, changed the bag, washed my hands three times, and changed the soil in each of the terrariums. When that didn’t work, I tried dish soap solution, then baking soda solution, then lime juice to raise the soil pH.
But even after all of my efforts to rid myself of the moss—even after a week of trying—there it was, right where it had been the first day, except now there was more of it. In a way, it felt like it was mocking me, scrutinizing my feeble attempts to get rid of it. Feeling defeated, I decided to ignore it, went about the rest of my day, and fell asleep that night without getting rid of it. I guess figured, if I tried everything else and it just got worse, maybe if I tried doing nothing it would go away, or at the very least, stop spreading.
Obviously, that decision proved to be a bad move.
I opened my eyes, and all I could see was green. Green, and red, and purple, and every other color imaginable and they were everywhere. English ivy, sweet peas, and honeysuckle climbed the walls. Ferns, heather, bluebells, and foxgloves sprouted from the floor by the bunches. Vines of glowing orange berries hung from the ceiling, accompanied by curtains of moss and trumpet vines—which, by the way, are invasive, and mildly toxic.
I was left in shock. I didn’t know what to do, or think, or say. I wasn’t sure how I was going to explain the state of my house to my neighbors or friends or family. I didn’t know how much damage had been done to the structural integrity of the building, or if it’d even be safe for me to live there anymore. Everything had spiraled out of control so quickly, and now I stood in the center of it, and I was at a loss. I was so confused and stressed that my arms had started to itch again, so I went to scratch them.
I froze.
You know that feeling you get, when you finally realize something hasn’t felt right for a while, but you couldn’t put your finger on it until right then? I looked down at my arms expecting to see bare skin, and…they were green. They were covered in moss, just like the tree and the walls. I rubbed at it with my hand, trying to get it to fall off, but it wouldn’t budge, so, logically, I tried to pull it.
It hurt. Badly. Bad enough that I had to stop, because my vision started to go black at the edges. I know moss doesn’t have roots, but for lack of a better term, it was rooted in me. In my arms, and my legs, and around my neck—its fibers were woven into my skin and muscles like I was just another tree, or rock, or…whatever.
It was in me, and it’s still in me. No matter how much soap I use, no matter how hot the sun gets, no matter where I go or what I do, it stays just as soft and green and alive as always. My house is the same way. On one hand, having a garden for a house makes inviting people over quite the ordeal, and my moss is a pain to trim when it gets long. On the other hand, I’m cozy in the winter, and I don’t have to worry about breathing in spores or getting botanically poisoned, so that’s a plus. Which reminds me… (Soft clink)
[Etho]
Ummm…
[Bdubs]
It’s a Japanese maple bonsai tree! I figured I might as well give you a little something for taking the time to hear me infodump! Make sure it gets partial shade, water it regularly—especially during spring and summer—prune it, and make sure the soil is well drained. Oh! And one more thing.
Make sure you put a little moss in the pot.
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[Etho]
Okay, so that was…something.
Bdubs’s story seems legit enough. I checked with the guy he talked about—the one with the horses—and he confirmed that he does in fact have a horse named Lulu, and that Bdubs borrowed her for a day to pursue his terrarium hobby. He also mentioned that he hasn’t seen Bdubs in a while, and asked me how he was doing. Obviously I couldn’t exactly tell him that his friend is growing plants from his arms, so I just told him he was okay, and that he had just been busy lately.
As for Bdubs himself, he’s invited me over to his house for tea later this afternoon. He says he moved all of the toxic plants outside, and he’s improved his ventilation, so it should be relatively safe. Normally I’d exercise a little more caution, since this sort of thing can kinda make people scary, but he seems like a nice guy, and I need an excuse to get out of here and stretch my legs. But before I do that, I need to water the new addition to the office. Now what do I call you? Hmm…
Maybe…Eefo?
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[Grian]
Right, so that’s the end. Since Etho seems to not have had any comments on the nature of the statement, I suppose I’ll make a few. This statement seems similar to statement 0241016, as both involve a connection to plants, and some form of transformation via fusion of living things. While I don’t believe they’re an exact one-to-one, it is something to look into. Other than that, there’s not much el—
(Click)
Shoot, I—
[Etho]
(At the same time) I wonder…if I hit you really hard with this hammer, will that stop the dreams?
[Grian]
What—
[Etho]
(Overlapping) Hmm…
Sorry little tape, but Bdubs needs his sleep.
(Plastic shattering, tape distorting briefly)
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[Grian]
Etho broke it? He vanishes and leaves the archives a mess—leaving me to clean it up—and on top of that, he breaks a tape? Un-be-lieveable! Ugh!
I don’t know what dreams he’s talking about, but I swear if I find him, I will make sure I’m in his nightmares!
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