Picnics on Neila One

JelDarian was riding their circuit of this side of the Valley with KatLynd and thinking of home.

“My father was Doctor GalDoxian PharMata, First Professor of Genetic PhiloStudy at PrimeFed University on Neila One,” JelDarian stated by rote, surprising KatLynd. JelDarian’s monologues did not typically cover personal history, KatLynd mused, thinking of their own home on Moon Four.

“Professor GalDoxian was the youngest First Professor at PFU in living memory,” JelDarian bragged.

“We lived in a small faculty residence on the sprawling campus. I basically grew up at university with the professor,” JelDarian said more quietly.

“Professor GalDoxian was the chair of Genetic PhiloStudy as far back as I can remember. I started my own studies quite early,” JelDarian went on proudly.

“The professor was always busy during study terms—with lectures and department rounds most days, and long evenings in the research labs,” JelDarian said over the Comms while they rode.

“I ate most of my meals in one of a hundred small dining halls on campus, acquiring sustenance, knowledge, and FedDebt practically from birth. Sometimes, if I timed it right, I would join the professor for a quick meal in between lectures—sharing a few events of the day or just eating quickly, sitting next to each other, listening to a colleague go on about a new topic or assignment,” JelDarian said.

“During the warmer months, things slowed down a bit—and we might just have a picnic every few weeks,” JelDarian beamed.

“Picnics on Neila One?” KatLynd thought.

“Where?!” KatLynd may have said out loud.

“So you know Neila One?” JelDarian asked.

“Not a lot of green space, eh? Not like under the AgriDomes of Moon Four,” JelDarian went on without waiting for KatLynd to answer the questions.

“The PrimeFed University Genetic BioStudy department had acres of AgriLabs, most underground, but some under AgriDomes,” JelDarian explained.

“The professor had an interest in all genetic study disciplines, and had access to most of the university AgriLabs. A few days—in between study terms during the warmer months on Neila One—Professor Dad would take me to one of the less frequently monitored subterranean AgriLabs for a picnic. It would be cool, and usually smelled like damp earth, fungi, and new growth,” JelDarian described for KatLynd as they rode along the ridge.

“We would pack our meal together, maybe some roasted fungi steaks, a salad with small fruits, a dressing, and drinks. We would find a corner of a remote AgriLab, and eat and drink our picnic lunch while the professor would explain what was growing in this lab, or the labs we passed, or the newest plant life under an AgriDome,” JelDarian said.

“Sometimes, I could add a few leaves or shoots from the plants growing in long rows to our meals, if the professor said it was safe—or maybe a new small fruit of some kind,” JelDarian reminisced.

“The professor might ask me about my studies, but usually Dad would share the latest lecture topic or explain a new species or research project,” JelDarian said, “but the professor almost never talked about the animals.”

“Those were good times,” JelDarian said, a bit forlornly KatLynd thought.

“Most of the time I was pretty much on my own, taking care of our rooms, keeping up with my studies,” JelDarian shared.

“The labyrinths of study halls on campus were my sanctuaries during most study terms. I would pass by rows of ScreenBooths in the more congested halls, looking for a corner of an older hall to set up in and watch the days lectures,” JelDarian went on.

“During one of my last terms, I found a panel along one wall in between some old shelving units, that opened just enough to gain entrance after I accidentally put my hand on a hidden mechanism,” JelDarian confessed.

“The small room hidden behind the panel was lighted oddly, and had a plain table and chair, and no Screens,” JelDarian all but whispered into the Comms, “the old shelves along the walls were full of unusual artifacts and musty, bound volumes.”

“I went there a few evenings, during my last term, while the professor was at a research lab,” JelDarian went on.

“I was going through some stuff, and I liked the energy of that room when I needed to be alone with my thoughts,” JelDarian explained.

“During our last picnic of the season, before getting the call for this assignment, I told Dad about the room, asking about some of the artifacts I found. I had drawings of a few of the items, and the layout of the room—but the professor did not need to see the drawings to know right where that room was, and what was in it,” JelDarian boomed.

“The professor was quite agitated and told me never to go back to that room—we ended our picnic early,” JelDarian finished.

“Did you ever go back?” KatLynd asked.

JelDarian hesitated, and they rode in silence for a time—the hum of the energy barrier the only sound. Finally, KatLynd’s EquidBeast snorted.

“The AssignOfficer called before the next term started. On my last day I stopped by Dad’s office to say my farewells, but the professor was tied up with some scientists and GenTechs on an important new project,” JelDarian paused for effect, “I went to that old hall—to the wall that hid the room--and the mechanism had been sealed over.”

KatLynd wondered.

JelDarian started the next lecture, The History of MagPlates, as they rode towards the station and an unsatisfactory AirShower.

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