Professor Doolittle looked lovingly at his creation. Before him, and all around him lay a garden. He had named it after his wife, Gaia, who right now was dutifully watering at the other end of the garden. They had no children of their own, but they considered the beautifully tended ecosystem they had created to be their true offspring.

The garden had a large oak tree at the centre, and successive rings around this mighty and old tree, included rhododendron, bougainvillaea and rose bushes. Further out at the margins were rings of wildflowers such as large daisies and foxgloves.

This garden though, was unlike any other. The professor had carefully introduced genes from all the species gathered in the ecosystem into each other. All the plants present were therefore related to each other in some way, and were in some way dependent on each other.

The professor had carefully used the crown gall bacteria: agrobacterium tumefaciens to insert the DNA of other plants into the specimens he was working on.

The foliage surrounding the mighty oak held the genes of mistletoe, and this enabled their roots to tap into the roots of the oak, and thus to share with the mighty tree the sustenance of the earth.

It was all one huge interconnected system. The professor thought that by sharing nutrients, and being dependent on one another, he could hope to create a conscious living god in the garden. He had studied the works of Jung and Lovelock, and believed that by sharing DNA the plants would achieve a higher state of being by means of quantum entanglement.

The professor paused as he surveyed the mighty oak. The tree was the mighty peg on which his project hung. It was the only living thing which had lived before his creation was conceived. Indeed, by many centuries its existence preceded the lives of both the professor and his wife.

The oak was held sacred by the druids of this land, and was held in awe by the worshippers of the god: Wotan. Indeed the mighty spear on which the lord of all gods wrote out his contracts, was thought to have been made of the wood of the oak.

The thick gnarled roots of the oak projected a short distance into the air before they descended into the earth. The professor was startled by what he thought was some movement in the roots. He lay down on the earth before the oak, and put his ear to one of the roots.

Yes, he could hear a slow steady creaking coming from the root. The professor grew excited. Was this the evidence that he had waited for? Was this the fulfilment of his dreams? The professor shouted for his wife. She hurriedly made her way to the centre of the garden.

When she arrived the professor was in a state of much excitement. The creaking grew louder, and his wife noticed a slight movement in the great roots which projected from the tree.

Then with alarm Gaia noticed that the roots were slowly encircling her poor husband. It was too late. Before she could cry out, the mighty boughs had completely held her husband prisoner, and were slowly throttling the life out of him.

The professor cried out. Suddenly realising the precariousness of his position, and feeling the roots contracting around him, like a python slowly strangling its prey before it engulfed it whole, he cried out “Bring the chainsaw from the tool store, I can’t move!”

Gaia immediately jumped into action, and when she returned to the spot at the centre of the garden with the tool, she noticed a change in the professor’s demeanour. He seemed to be smiling. “It is written!” he said. “We are one!”.

Then the eyelids of the professor flickered, and the whites of his eyes rolled up, and the professor let out a long sigh. He shivered softly, and then became limp. His smile grew on his face as the last of his breath slowly exhaled from the professor’s lips.

Gaia was distraught. She did not know what to do. Immediately she thought of revenge, and of hacking away at the oak’s roots with the chainsaw. Then she too, felt a sudden calmness drop into her mind. She thought of her husband’s fate, and wished to join him.

Yes, she felt a higher power compelling her towards the base of the oak. She too smiled, and dropped the chainsaw. Walking slowly to the embrace of the mighty oak, she let its mighty fingers encircle her.

She did not think she was sharing her former husband’s fate. No, her husband still lived. Her husband was now one with the mighty oak. He and her wife were now completely encircled by the mighty roots. Slowly the last gasp escaped from Gaia’s lips.

Gaia was now Gaia, not only in name, but in actuality. Slowly over many years, Gaia and her husband’s body now decomposed, and nourished, and fed both the mighty oak and the other flora of the garden.

Obeying laws older than they, the garden lived on. The mighty cycle of life continued, and the garden claimed fresh victims. Whether the garden itself was conscious, I cannot say. All I can say is that every one of its victims died with a smile on their face.

Brian McGill Wednesday 19th October 2022