[i]Ma'am, what was Earth really like?

What an impertinent question. Why do you want to know?

I just want to know what it looked like, ma'am.[/i]

For as long as Genevieve could remember, there were only two places in all of Hope Station where she could always find green. First, the agricultural strata, especially the herbal labs—rows and rows of individual plants in individual aluminum boxes, washed out and shiny in the full-spectrum lamps overhead. It smelled sterile. The lights blinded her if she looked at them wrong. There were strict protocols she had to follow. She still loved it.

What she loved more, though, was the single pot she had in her room. The pot itself was a hideous clay thing she'd made in Arts and Crafts as a child, it constantly leaked dirt onto her desk, not to mention water, and the only thing she was allowed to grow outside of a carefully controlled environment was a stunted breed of grass. But there was just...something about it, something older than she was, that felt better just brushing her hand against the few thin blades she grew.

[i]Well, as best we can tell...very green. Like the hydroponics lab, but everywhere. There were even places where they let the rows overlap, in whatever way the plants wished to pollinate. And there were all different kinds of plants. Millions, even. They were still finding new ones when we left.

Aren't there pictures, ma'am?

That's enough of that. It doesn't matter, anyway. Our plant sciences are much better managed, and it's not as if you need to know any of that on Port Hope.[/i]

Well...maybe she should have pushed her tutor a little harder.

Genevieve was certain that when she looked back later, she would remember the crash landing in perfect detail—adrenaline would do that much for her, at least. Right now, though, all it was doing was making her hands shake as she stood in the doorway of the ship, every other part of her completely frozen. 

It was...really green. Really, really green.

[color=YellowGreen]"Wh...where [i]are[/i] we?"[/color]