The Fungal Boot Glitch

"It's leaking again," Lenny said. He stood in the middle of the 'Transitional Meadow,' which was mostly just a big square of gray mud and half-melted slush. He looked down at his left foot. The boot was supposed to be a miracle. It was made of compressed mushroom roots that grew to fit your foot. The brochure said they were 'self-healing.' The brochure was a liar.

Kaylee didn't look back. She was twelve and had recently decided that looking at things was beneath her. She kept walking, her own fungal boots making wet, sucking sounds in the muck. "Walk faster. The sun-cycle resets at five. I'm not getting stuck in the Dark Hour because your toe is damp."

"It's not damp. It's a puddle. I have a personal puddle in my shoe," Lenny muttered. He hopped on one foot, trying to shake the water out. It didn't work. The mud here was thick and smelled like old vitamins. This was New Eden District 4. It was a utopia. Everyone said so. The air was ninety-nine percent pure. The water was recycled through three different kinds of special sand. Even the trash wasn't trash; it was 'pre-resource material.'

But it was the end of winter, and the utopia felt like a soggy cardboard box. The 'Eternal Spring' heaters in the ground were glitching. They were supposed to keep the soil at a perfect sixty-two degrees, but they were currently stuck on 'Simulated Frost.' The grass, which was genetically modified to stay green all year, was a confused shade of bruised purple.

"Look," Kaylee said, stopping suddenly. She pointed at a row of white houses. They looked like giant eggs that had been dropped into the hillside. "Mr. Patterson is out."

Lenny squinted. Mr. Patterson was their neighbor. He was eighty, which was very old, even for a place where everyone lived to be a hundred. He was wearing a silver heat-suit that made him look like a baked potato. He was kneeling in his 'Personal Growth Sphere,' poking at a patch of dirt with a plastic stick.

"He's looking for it too," Lenny said.

"The Prophecy Bud?" Kaylee rolled her eyes. "It's a myth, Lenny. The city council just tells people that so they don't get 'Seasonal Low-Energy Syndrome.' There is no first flower. The robots plant everything on April first. Exactly at dawn."

"No, the manual says natural growth is encouraged. Page forty. 'Natural variation is the soul of the collective,'" Lenny quoted. He liked the manuals. They were the only things in New Eden that didn't break when you dropped them.

They reached the edge of the meadow. The sidewalk started here. It was made of 'Pave-Light' tiles that gathered energy from footsteps. Today, they were flickering. A pale, sickly yellow light pulsed under Lenny's wet boot. It felt like walking on a giant, dying flashlight.

"Hey, Mr. Patterson!" Lenny yelled.

The silver potato turned slowly. Mr. Patterson’s face was wrinkled in a way that the skin-clinics usually fixed for free. He didn't like the clinics. He said he earned his lines.

"Keep it down, kid," Patterson croaked. He didn't use a voice-amplifier. He liked to strain his vocal cords. He said it made him feel alive. "You'll scare them."

"Scare what?" Lenny asked, hobbling over. "The flowers?"

"The possibilities," Patterson said. He looked back at the mud. "The ground is thinking. I can feel it. It’s deciding if it wants to bother with us this year."

Kaylee crossed her arms. Her jacket was made of recycled ocean plastic. It crinkled loudly whenever she moved. "The soil sensors are at forty percent moisture, Mr. Patterson. The city AI already decided. Growth starts in ten days."

Patterson looked at Kaylee. He looked at her crinkly jacket. "The AI doesn't know how to itch, girl. When the ground starts to itch, that’s when things happen."

Lenny felt an itch right then. It was his wool sweater. It was made from 'Ethical Sheep' that were never shorn too close, but the wool was still scratchy. It felt like a thousand tiny ants were marching across his shoulders. He reached back to scratch, nearly falling over.

"See?" Patterson pointed at Lenny. "The boy gets it. The itch is the start."

"The itch is a skin rash," Kaylee said. "Mom says we need to recalibrate our laundry cycles. The soap is too 'active.'"

Lenny ignored them. He was looking at the base of a solar-tree. The tree was a tall, sleek pole with glass leaves that tracked the sun. At the bottom, where the metal met the mud, there was a tiny crack. A real crack. Not a designed 'drainage fissure.' A mistake.

And inside the mistake, there was a speck of green.

It wasn't the fake, neon green of the modified grass. It was a dark, dirty, stubborn green. It looked like it had fought its way through a wall of concrete.

"Kaylee," Lenny whispered.

"What?"

"Look."

She leaned over. Her jacket crinkled like a bag of chips. She stared at the crack. Her face changed. The 'cool' look fell off, replaced by something smaller. Something like a kid.

"Is that... a weed?" she asked.

"Weeds don't exist in New Eden," Lenny said. "The filtration system kills the seeds in the air."

"Well, nobody told that thing," Patterson said, his voice sounding like dry leaves. He leaned in, his silver suit reflecting the dull sky. "That’s a dandelion. A real one. From the Before."

Lenny reached out a finger. He wanted to touch it. He wanted to see if it was as tough as it looked.

"Don't," Kaylee said.

"Why?"

"The sensors. If the city sees a non-standard biological entity, the 'Clean-Bots' will be here in three minutes. They'll spray it with vinegar and salt. It’ll be gone."

Lenny stopped. His finger was an inch away. The little green sprout looked lonely. It was surrounded by white plastic, glass leaves, and silver potatoes. It was the only thing in the whole district that wasn't trying to be perfect. It was just trying to be.

"We have to hide it," Lenny said.

"How?" Kaylee asked. "The drones see everything. Look up."

Lenny looked. High above, a small, white circle was hovering. It was a 'Peace-Keeper' drone. It was checking the air quality. It was checking the mud. It was checking them.

"I'll stand over it," Lenny said. He shifted his weight, placing his leaking fungal boot right next to the crack. It was a big, ugly boot. It covered the dandelion perfectly.

"You can't stand there forever, Lenny," Kaylee said. "The sun-cycle is ending. Mom’s making the algae-pasta tonight. You know how she gets when the pasta is cold. It turns into glue."

"I don't care," Lenny said. His toe was freezing. The water in his shoe felt like ice. But the itch on his back felt different now. It felt like energy. "If I move, it dies."

Mr. Patterson stood up. His joints popped. It sounded like small sticks breaking. "The boy has a point. But he’s a small boy. He needs a bigger shadow."

Patterson moved. He stood next to Lenny. His silver suit was wide and bright. He blocked a huge section of the ground from the drone's view.

"Kaylee," Lenny said.

She looked at the drone. She looked at her brother, who was shivering. She looked at the old man in the potato suit. She sighed. It was a long, dramatic sigh that she usually saved for when the Wi-Fi was slow.

She stepped in. She stood on the other side of the solar-tree. "This is stupid. We're standing in the mud for a piece of grass."

"It’s a dandelion," Patterson corrected.

"Whatever."

They stood there. The wind picked up. In New Eden, the wind was supposed to be a 'gentle breeze,' but today it was sharp. It smelled like the coming rain. The sky turned a deeper shade of gray, the color of a bruised knee.

Lenny’s leg started to cramp. He felt ridiculous. They were three people huddled around a pole in a city where everything was provided. They had heated floors at home. They had 'Nutri-Shakes' in the fridge. They had a robot that folded their laundry. And here they were, getting wet and cold to protect a mistake.

"Why is it growing here?" Lenny asked.

"Because it can," Patterson said. "That’s the thing about life. You give it a crack, and it takes the whole world."

Suddenly, the ground hummed. It was a low, vibrating sound that Lenny felt in his teeth.

"The sun-cycle," Kaylee said, her voice tight. "It’s over."

Across the district, the white egg-houses began to glow with a soft, orange light. The 'Eternal Spring' heaters gave one last, pathetic chug and died for the night. The temperature dropped instantly.

Then, the drone dipped.

It was coming lower. The white circle was getting bigger. It emitted a small, polite chirp.

"Citizen alert," a smooth, female voice said from the drone. "Unusual static cluster detected. Please move to your designated living modules. The 'Meadow Maintenance' phase is beginning."

"That's the spray," Patterson whispered. "They're going to salt the mud."

Lenny looked at the crack. The little green sprout was so small. One drop of the city's 'Pure-Clean' solution would shrivel it into nothing.

"No," Lenny said.

"Lenny, we have to go," Kaylee grabbed his arm. "If we get a 'Non-Compliance' mark, Mom loses her credit-bonus."

"I'm not moving."

"Lenny!"

The drone was twenty feet up now. A small hatch on its belly opened. A nozzle slid out. It looked like a tiny, silver finger.

Lenny looked at his boot. He looked at the mud. He looked at Mr. Patterson.

"Give me your hat," Lenny said to Patterson.

"My what?"

"Your heat-hat!"

Patterson blinked, then understood. He pulled the silver, insulated cap off his head. His hair was thin and white and stood up in every direction. He handed the hat to Lenny.

Lenny knelt down. He was quick. He placed the silver hat over the crack. He tucked the edges into the mud, sealing the dandelion inside a little silver dome. It looked like a tiny version of their houses.

"Hey!" the drone chirped. It was louder now. "Property interference detected. Please cease immediate action."

"Run," Patterson said.

"What about the hat?" Lenny asked.

"I'll say the wind blew it. Now go!"

Kaylee didn't wait. She grabbed Lenny by the collar of his scratchy sweater and hauled him toward the sidewalk. They ran. Lenny’s wet boot made a slapping sound on the Pave-Light tiles. The tiles flashed red as they ran over them. 'Sprinting Not Recommended' flashed in text under their feet.

They didn't stop until they reached their front door. The door recognized their faces and slid open with a soft hiss. The air inside was warm and smelled like synthetic lavender.

Their mom was in the kitchen. She was stirring a pot of green noodles. She looked up, her face tight with the stress of a woman who had to keep a 'Perfect Household' score of 9.8 or higher.

"You're late," she said. She looked at their boots. "And you're covered in 'Unprocessed Earth.' Do you have any idea how hard it is to get the sensors to ignore mud?"

"Sorry," Lenny panted. He felt hot. His heart was thumping against his ribs like a trapped bird.

"Go. Wash. Now."

Lenny went to the bathroom. He kicked off the fungal boots. His left sock was soaked brown. He peeled it off and looked at his foot. It was red and wrinkled. It looked like it belonged to a much older person.

He looked out the window. The 'Dark Hour' had started. The neighborhood was a sea of soft, orange glows. The 'Meadow' was a black square in the distance. He couldn't see the drone. He couldn't see the hat.

He thought about the dandelion. Was it dark in there? Was it warm? Did it know he was trying to help?

He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Kaylee. She had changed into her 'Recycled Silk' pajamas. She looked at his wet foot.

"It’s just a weed, Lenny," she said quietly.

"It was real," Lenny said. "Everything else is... printed."

Kaylee looked out the window too. She didn't say anything for a long time. Then, she leaned closer to the glass.

"The heaters are off," she whispered.

"So?"

"So, if the hat holds the heat from the ground... it might grow faster."

Lenny felt a spark of hope. It was a bright, sharp thing. "Really?"

"Maybe. Or maybe the drone already melted it."

She walked away, her footsteps silent on the soft, sustainable flooring.

Lenny stayed at the window. He watched the black square of the meadow. The wind was hitting the glass now. Real rain started to fall. Not the 'Mist-System' rain that happened at 2 AM, but the messy, loud, cold rain of late winter. It streaked the glass, blurring the perfect lights of New Eden.

He sat on the floor, his back against the heater. He waited for the morning. He waited for the itch to come back.

In the morning, the sun was different. It wasn't the dull gray of winter. It was a bright, aggressive yellow. It hit the white egg-houses and turned them into blinding spots of light.

Lenny didn't even wait for breakfast. He didn't wait for his boots to finish their 'Dry-Cycle.' He put them on while they were still slightly damp and ran out the door.

"Lenny! Your nutrients!" his mom yelled, but the door was already hissing shut.

He ran to the meadow. The mud was drying. It was turning into a crusty, pale brown. He reached the solar-tree.

Mr. Patterson was already there. He wasn't wearing his silver suit. He was wearing a regular old cardigan that looked like it had been chewed by a dog. He was holding his silver hat.

He looked at Lenny. He didn't smile. Mr. Patterson didn't do smiles. But his eyes were wide.

"Look," Patterson said.

Lenny looked.

The crack in the pavement was wider. The dandelion hadn't just grown; it had exploded. There was a bright, jagged yellow flower sitting right in the middle of the gray. It was loud. It was the loudest thing in the whole city. It was a yell of yellow against a world of white.

But that wasn't why Patterson was staring.

Lenny looked closer. Around the yellow flower, the 'Smart Grass' was changing. The purple, modified blades were dying back, turning into brown mush. And in their place, dozens of tiny, green spikes were pushing up. They were messy. They were uneven. They were real.

"The sensors are going crazy," Patterson whispered. "I can hear the city humming. It doesn't know what to do. It’s not in the code."

Lenny felt a vibration in his feet. It wasn't the sun-cycle. It was deeper.

Then, he heard it. A high-pitched, mechanical whine.

From over the horizon of egg-houses, a swarm of white dots appeared. Not one drone. Not two. A dozen. They were moving fast, their lights flashing a bright, angry red.

"They're coming to fix it," Lenny said, his voice trembling.

"They're going to try," Patterson said. He reached down and picked up a handful of the drying mud. He looked at it like it was gold.

Lenny looked at the yellow flower. It was so small compared to the drones. It was just a bit of color in a crack.

"We need more hats," Lenny said.

He looked back at the houses. He saw Kaylee standing on their porch. She was holding her crinkly plastic jacket. She saw the drones. She saw the yellow.

She started to run toward them. But she wasn't alone. Other doors were opening. People were coming out. They were all wearing their perfect clothes and their fungal boots, but they were all looking at the same thing. They were looking at the glitch in the world.

Lenny looked at the drones again. They were almost there. The lead drone lowered its sprayer.

But then, the solar-tree next to Lenny made a loud, grinding noise. The glass leaves stopped tracking the sun. They began to spin wildly. A spark flew from the base, right where the dandelion was growing.

All at once, the lights on the sidewalk went dark. The hum of the city stopped.

A strange, heavy silence fell over New Eden.

Lenny looked at the dandelion. It hadn't moved. It just sat there, being yellow.

Then, the lead drone faltered. Its red light flickered. It dipped, swayed, and then dropped out of the sky, landing with a dull 'clonk' in the mud.

One by one, the other drones began to spin. They hovered for a second, chirping confusedly, before their engines died. They fell like giant, white hail.

"The roots," Patterson whispered. "The roots got into the grid."

Lenny looked at the mud. He could see it now. The cracks were spreading. They weren't just around the tree. They were moving under the sidewalk. They were reaching for the houses.

He felt a sudden, sharp pain in his toe.

He looked down. His fungal boot was twitching. The mushroom roots inside were growing. They were reaching for the ground. They were trying to go home.

He tried to pull his foot away, but he was stuck. He was being anchored to the earth.

"Kaylee!" he yelled.

Kaylee stopped ten feet away. She looked at her own boots. She looked at the grass that was turning green at an impossible speed.

"Don't move!" she screamed.

But the ground was already rising.