Plantae Homogenesis, "Riley"

Part 1: Prologue

Riley looked up from the geranium he was repotting as the lights flickered and died. The large room gradually grew silent around him as the small waterfall pumps failed and the air ducts ceased filtering freshly humidified air into the garden. He cocked his head to the side, listening. His hands still caught in midway in the act of transferring the plant to its new home as the utter stillness of the room held him in its grip. For the first time in his life that he could remember the greenhouse was static. No leaves rustled, no water trickled. Silence. Complete and imposing silence.

Breathing slowly and evenly, some primeval instinct warning him to not break the quiet with any unnecessary noise, Riley finished repotting the plant by the faint light of his own bioluminescence. The dim reddish glow cast an eerie, almost unworldly hue on the surrounding gardens, but it was the only illumination present as he slowly rose to his feet.

Several yards to his left, he could faintly make out the reflective one-way glass that made up the entirety of that wall. His own image, oddly illuminated by the strange patterns blanketing his flesh, greeted him as he stepped up to the re-enforced glass. He stood there a moment, waiting for the reserve generators to kick on and flood the gardens once more in light, but it never came. Touching the glass lightly with his fingertips, he stared into his own eyes as he shattered the stillness around him. His voice was loud in the silence, echoing back to him though he spoke barely above a whisper, "Doctor?"