“Ah Rooroo, you great big glumping galoot! Wait! Wait!”

But by the heaving and rolling of the spongy surfaces of my Pod, I knew Rooroo was in a hurry. I quickly rolled onto my stomach and covered my face with my hands as the Pod walls gushed out sticky jelly. That stuff covered my whole body like a slimy suit. Then there was a pouff sound as Rooroo released his pollen.

“Another Pollen Run? That’s the third this week!” I groaned as Rooroo sent me images to guide me to the Mother Tree that was calling for a mate.

I rolled around in my pod to get as much of Rooroo’s powdery pollen onto my slimy jelly coat. The more pollen I had, the safer I’d be from the Mother Trees, which were temperamental creatures, unlike my Rooroo, who was a Father Tree. Mother Trees often ate us, Movers, who brought them pollen.

As the bracts of my Pod began to loosen, I hurriedly crawled out and stretched.

“Why won’t you just let me pack your pollen into a bottle and carry it?”

No little one. My pollen needs to be warm, and your skin does a good job of keeping them at the right temperature. Besides, my jelly will also protect you from the cold winds and any radioactive storms that you may get caught in again.

“Hah! Don’t sweet talk me! All you care about is your precious pollen and how many seedlings you manage to father. By now you’ve probably fathered half the next generation,” I thought at him grumpily.

You may be right about the next generation, but I do care about you, Fleetfoot. Now go, little one, and come back to me. Alive. I am your Home!

I gave Rooroo’s bulbous trunk a quick pat and took off towards the amorous Mother Tree to gift her with his pollen and hopefully escape with all my limbs intact.

After half a day’s walk, I finally found the Mother Tree. I sidled up to her open pod and cautiously wiped one of my slimy pollen-laden hands on the edge of a red bract. Her heavy branches creaked, and a shiver ran down my spine. Would she recognise me as a pollen-carrying Mover, or as just another prey animal to be snapped up in her red pod-maw? The open pod responded with a rippling tremor and extended row upon row of bristly pollen collectors. I sighed with relief – I wasn’t going to be her lunch today. I began to rub myself on the pollen collectors briskly to get all of Rooroo’s slimy jelly and pollen off.

Success! After what felt like a lifetime, I had scraped almost all of Rooro’s pollen onto the open pod. Now, back to Rooroo and some well-deserved food and rest.

As I turned away from the Mother Tree, I felt a prickle on my neck, then another on my thigh. My body went numb and my mind blank.

Is she out? … Don’t want to deal … hysterical Lost One … kick and bite like wild animals.

I could hear strange voices above me – words fading in and out of my awareness. I cracked open an eye and saw a strange, puffy and soft Mover-like form with a single rectangular eye.

And then it clicked. I’d seen these creatures before, emerging from a door in the ground – they were TechMonks. Rooroo said they were Movers like me, but covered over with that puffy stuff. He explained that they used machines all the time – I guess that explains the Tech – and never seemed to have young Seedlings – is that why he thought they were Monks? Because they didn’t seem to reproduce?

Rooroo’d said that the disastrous Mover wars had so poisoned the world’s lands and waters, that almost no life remained on the surface. The surviving Movers became the TechMonks, creating burrows underground where they’d lived with their machines waiting for surface conditions to improve. Meanwhile, plant life like Rooroo had begun the slow process of making the surface habitable again. When the Movers’ machines began to fail, many abandoned their burrows and came up to partner with the Father Trees. Movers helped with pollination and the Father Trees protected Movers from radiation storms, acid rains, and starvation.

As I tried to remember more of Rooroo’s old lessons, vainly looking for some information that’d help me escape, their chatter caught my attention.

This one … sent to Tree … about fifty years ago … just look … not a day older than ten … when she was sent out … those trees … kept … young … Peter Pan’s Neverland …

I strained my ears for more, but one of them saw me move and pricked me with something. I slipped into a dreamless sleep.

It’s been so long since I last saw Rooroo – since I’d been caught and taken underground into the TechMonks’ burrow.

The room I was in was comfortless – only a thinly padded bed, a bowl, and a jug of water on the floor. A wall flashed strange squiggly lines and pictures periodically. Right now, it showed a radioactive storm raging above a desert – I’d been caught in such a storm just once. Rooroo’d cursed me roundly while he’d healed my burns in the Pod for two whole days. The next picture was of a huge expanse of water – a voice from the wall called it an Oshean – which was apparently a poisonous soup of radioactive dust and stuff called microplastics. Then the wall showed my forest, with all its green growing things and last of all, there was a picture of Rooroo!

I couldn’t help crying at the sight of Rooroo’s big trunk and his giant rounded leaves that turned purple in worry, red-black in anger, or verdant green in joy.

Everything here was strange – this place, the food, and the TechMonks themselves. After every sleep cycle, they’d poke me with sharp metal sticks and draw blood. They said my blood was a miracle – the ‘clones’ grew better with my blood – but I didn’t understand what they meant. Their food was always soft with little taste and even less texture. My mouth watered at the thought of Rooroo’s sweet nectar, dripping into my open mouth from the edges of his leaves, the crunchy beetles that I’d pull from his trunk, and the spicy squishy grubs I’d dig from his roots. Those beetles and grubs were probably destroying Rooroo’s trunk and roots without me to eat them, I thought sadly. This place – sterile and harsh – was no home. How I ached for the pod attached to Rooroo’s trunk. My pod, with its spongy lining, would ease weary muscles and cuddled my body comfortingly as I’d sleep.

Strangest of all was my own body – it’d begun changing very soon after my capture. I’d grown larger. My limbs lengthened, my shoulders and hips broadened, and I sprouted hair everywhere – legs, arms, and even armpits! Ugh! My chest grew mounds of soft flesh that hampered my movement and irritated me vastly. 

But the most frightening change was that I was getting weaker – I looked fine, but I felt a faint trembling in my body that told me something was wrong with me. I needed to get back to Rooroo. Soon.

I was out!

Today’s blood draw had been disrupted by a loud beeping the moment the needle touched my arm. While the TechMonks were busy with their noisy machine, I rolled off the bed and sneaked away down the corridor towards a ladder. Scrambling up, I’d wrestled open the door on top, and was out on the surface.

A quick glance around and I knew that I was at the edge of Rooroo’s forest. He was near!

By the time the TechMonks caught up, I’d raced to my pod. I dove in headfirst. With one squirm and a hard push, I was half-in! But oddly, my Pod felt much smaller than I remembered.

… can’t lose her! … has … best genetic material … in centuries … hardly any radiation damage … her stem cells  … vital … new batch of clones …

The TechMonk’s disjointed words trickled into my ears through the pod’s walls. I didn’t care, and kept pushing till I was fully in; but suddenly, everything quivered. I paused, confused. My body tingled and agony flared in my head. The pod convulsed painfully around me.

“Rooroo? It’s me!”

I felt Rooroo’s panicked voice in my head. Fleetfoot? You sound like my Fleetfoot, but you’re bigger and … and different! You’re not her! I won’t have you!

I felt the pod squeeze again as an icy numbness spread through my body. The TechMonks were now shouting.

… just like … old Peter Pan myth … Peter Pan and his Lost Boys … children forever in Neverland … that’s what the trees do! … Keep these kids as children for … for … forever … But … away from the Trees … children grow up … Peter Pan killed children who grew up …

What did these TechMonks know? Nothing! Rooroo loved me – he’d recognize me soon, hopefully before the pod dissolved me. I smiled as my breathing shortened. I was still Home.