Seeders: A Novel by A. J. Colucci Page B

the world. It was the most taboo subject in the field of plant biology, but to open-minded scientists like himself, it was the Holy Grail of botany: the detection of a central information system in plants that was akin to the human nervous system. But Jules believed such a finding was decades away. There were too many questions. Where would such a system be found? Which tissues would it involve? What would be the cell-to-cell connections? What would be the firing system? Would there be a network with specialized cells and tissues to direct processing?
    Perhaps in the last few years of his life, George had found the Holy Grail.
    Unfortunately, there were no files dated after 2004. It was possible George had burned his most recent data in a bonfire on the patio. Jules had picked through the immense pile of ash and found remnants of spiral notebooks and binders, stacks of paper burnt into thick blocks of charcoal, along with the charred remains of plants. But why George would destroy the last ten years of his work, the most significant finding of his life, was as mysterious as his death.
    He looked around the room. There was nothing left to search but a set of bookshelves over the desk. Some of the books were old and worn with dull fabric covers and titles concerning plant physiology and phytohormonal regulations, early subjects George had studied. Others had more contemporary titles on plant genomics, molecular neurophysiology, and electrophysiology. Jules felt a certain pride to see his own books on the shelf, all three he’d written in the last decade. He scanned the bottom shelf and spotted a bright yellow book with blue letters down the spine: Binaural Beats: Principles and Explorations .
    He pulled it from the shelf and flipped it open.
    Sean walked into the lab, quietly and unseen. He perched himself on a stool and watched the scientist read, smiling at the way Jules rubbed the side of his face with large bony fingers, slender and big-knuckled like tree branches. Finally, he let out a grunt.
    “Oh. Hullo.” Jules peered up from his reading. “Wouldn’t you like to help your mother look for the diamond?”
    Sean shook his head.
    Jules continued reading about binaural beats, along with notes scribbled along the margins.
    “Ung,” Sean grunted again.
    Jules tried to ignore him, but his protests continued.
    “I’m trying to concentrate, Sean.”
    “Ung!” The boy stabbed a finger at the bookshelf.
    “You want a book? Well, fine, then, take one.”
    Sean poked the air harder.
    “All right, all right. Which one?” Jules ran his hand over the row of titles until Sean grunted with enthusiasm.
    It was the largest book on the shelf, a fat almanac simply titled Botany . Jules wiggled it out of its long-standing spot on the shelf and felt its substantial weight. The engraved leather seemed more fitting for a collection of Shakespeare than a catalog of plants. The paper looked old and slightly yellowed, but other than that it was in pristine condition. Jules handed it to Sean, who was anxiously snapping his fingers like crab claws.
    Once the almanac was removed, Jules spotted a notebook pushed to the back of the shelf, green as a grasshopper. He pulled it out and laid it on the desk. It was a simple composition notebook like students use in secondary school.
    Across the cover The Eden Project was prominently written in black marker. Jules fanned through the pages. Some were dated within the last five years and that instantly brightened his mood. Yet the entries were fragmented and sketchy: daily logs of plant growth; a list of 128 species of vegetation found on the island with their geographic locations; long descriptions of molecular genetic mutations performed on plants and fungi through a process called protoplast fusion; a series of detailed maps indicating cities and countries all over the world.
    None of it held the slightest interest to Jules. It would take hours to read through George’s miniscule handwriting, so