Page 78 of As You Wake, Break the Shell
Signy nodded with an understanding lodged in the bitterest regions of her heart. “What do you know about canvas plants?”
“Uh . . .” Cora pursed her lips. “They’re a weird copy-paste plant that we use to make, like . . . a million things.”
That was the breeziest explanation Signy had ever heard for the genetic host plant used to produce compounds for everything from engine grease to clothing dye to oatmeal flavors. “Do you know they were cultivated on Argosy?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know they have different growth requirements than Earth-origin plants?”
“I guess that makes sense.”
Signy nodded again. “They are expensive to grow. They require special lights, special substrate, all made with Tier One materials.” Rare compounds, divvied up among businesses with the correct licenses, priorities, and connections. “The farms are the only places equipped for growing them, and there aren’t enough canvas plant facilities to meet every demand. It’s the same reason we get shortages for certain artificial flavorings. Or—you remember last year, when every shop ran out of everything that used adhesive in the manufacture somewhere?”
“Was that only last year?” Cora said, in the weary tone of a person who had experienced five years in that time. “Jesus.”
“The point is, legally speaking, the only plants you can augment for making pharmaceuticals are canvas plants. And I can’t grow those. Nobody outside of the farms can, even if it were legal. I don’t have the equipment for it, and I don’t have the training.”
“Okay, but if you can do the same thing with Earth plants, then who cares?”
“Because I’m not doing the same thing. A canvas plant was designed to have genes swapped in and out constantly. That is its purpose. But these”—Signy gestured broadly at the plant shelf—“I have fundamentally changed these organisms. Your bell pepper is no longer the same bell pepper included in the Primer. Under the surface, it is tobacco, and I likewise turned that tobacco into a chemical factory. And that is what’s not allowed.”
“But why?”
It was incredibly gratifying to watch someone—not just someone, but Cora, lovely Cora—reach her own conclusion about the exact thing that had been stuck in Signy’s craw for her entire adult life. It was almost like seeing someone learn to enjoy the same hobby as you, if your hobby was immensely infuriating and got people killed. “I never explained genetic drift to you,” Signy mused. She hopped down off her stool. “Come on. Tea, and genetic drift.”
“I, um—” Cora reached out as Signy started to walk to the pantry. “I gotta tell you something.”
“What?”
Cora sighed, looking humbled. “I don’t like tea.”
Whatever Signy had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. “Why didn’t you say so before?” she asked.
“Because . . .” Cora threw up her hands, then put them on her waist with a sigh. “Because I like you and I didn’t want to—”
“To what? Tell me your preferences?”
“I mean, it sounds bad when you put it that way! I was just being polite.”
There were few things Signy found more of a waste of time than anything done solely for the sake of “being polite.” She peered at Cora. “Why are you telling me now?”
“Because . . . another thing I would prefer is to be honest.” Cora shrugged, running her hand bashfully through her hair. “About who we are.”
In that moment, Signy not only gave up the fight to not get stupid over this woman, she forgot she’d ever made the attempt. She took two steps forward and kissed Cora, gently. “I think I have a few packs of hot chocolate mix, if you’d like,” Signy said.
Cora grinned. “I would like, thank you.”
Signy threw a wry look over her shoulder as she continued toward the pantry. “I keep them in case I get any kids sheltering here.”
Cora tsked as she followed after. “Okay, you didn’t have to say that part.”
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Common name: Dwarf cacao
Species name: Theobroma cypsela
Adaptation path: Theobroma cacao—> Theobroma astralis—> Theobroma cypsela
