The Oracle Trilogy Book One Ohm's Node

Advanced Horticulture

chapter 25

SHE pushed up the sleeves of her pot shirt and looked at the spidery web of veins mapped out on her forearm. She made a fist curling it inward and tightened her biceps. Moistening two fingers she slapped her wrist until the blood vessels swelled, till sinewy muscle hardened, till she could feel the pump in her bump. But it wouldn't be a bump for long. She always knew she had the genes. The answer to a strong physique that had eluded the other personality for so long had come from her AI trainer who had told her to drink the special supplement before and after working out and rest for at least two days.

Last night at the AI pod, she'd kept up with her tutor who of course was a scantily dressed dream hunk. He was perfect, always complimenting her on how good she looked in her gym clothes, how well she was responding to her personalized schedule always reminding her to take the supplements provided by the Node. At first she thought they were nuts because there were no weights, wtf! And she got to lie down for everything! When he said apply pressure now, she'd put everything she had into it and when he said relax, she'd blow out air and get ready for the next one. But after two weeks, she couldn't believe the noticeable signs of improvement, having trouble prying herself away from the mirror. After each session her muscles burned, till she could hardly lift the egg carton out of the fridge. Twelve she told the girl after measuring during prime bump. Thirteen this morning.

After running the compost out to the pile, she grabbed the corner flaps of the plastic wrap and grunting, hefted the bale up to her knee, and pushing up, using her arms again to get it onto the table. She was tough and she knew it. She had left the poor helpless Jannie at the door. No need for the whinner here. Here was blocking the noise of unwanted intrusion. Here she was fighting back against the moronic babble of weak turds who thought their shit smelled like roses.

The one thing that Storm the avenger hated was change and there had been a massive dump of it in her lap. The gold plated, silver spooned ass rags had picked up her place of work and plunked it down on the old camp Gabrial grounds, houses included. Oh, hey, guess what kiddies, we're being purchased by an anonymous high-tech conglomerate. It wasn't for prisoners anymore or for the stupid rich who were fleeing from their flooding cities or even for their brain-dead kids to stop tweeping. What it was, wasn't exactly clear. She didn't give hoots ass about all the highly touted benefits that had come with it including room and board and the recreational opportunities with required chaperones. What she did like was the AI gym and the instructor, especially the results. And her boss or facilitator who helped her through the changes she was feeling every day.

As before, she worked in greenhouse One, the incubator where the pot seeds were planted and seedlings cared for until they reached a certain stage, then to be transferred to house two where they grew through the cooler months until placed outside in five-gallon pots. Pot in pots. But things had changed, so less pot and more what they called super trees, with new abilities, something she was supposed to downplay. It came with the territory.

Lately she knew that the good Jannie has gone into her sanctuary due to blackouts in her memory. This was why vigilance was key to survival. Going in and out of her people could cause neurological problems and visits to the what they called a doctor. Going to fugue could get her kicked out of this place and she couldn't afford that. Didn't want that, wouldn't happen. Between a rock and a hard place. She blew breath out through pursed lips. Just maintain and you'll be here until the world ends. If it gets too bad, fake sick and weather it out. She knew there were some who were secretly trying to sabotage her control. Push my buttons imbecile and I'll push yours.

Stripping down, she grabbed the spade and thought of the bastard that had followed her home a few years earlier. Driving the shovel onto the dry hard cake of peat, she watched it explode out onto the table.