The Lord of Opium

They walked on, admiring the birds and trees. “I think this is the ecosystem of northern Europe,” the jefe said. He pulled out a map and peered at it closely. “Yes. This is northern Europe, or at least the way it was.” They sat down on a small hill. In the distance the frogherd swam around the pool, flexing his long, white legs.

“I can see why you wanted to come here,” said Matt. “It’s the most magical place I’ve seen.”

“I had another reason.” Cienfuegos fell silent for a moment, perhaps considering how much to reveal. “Before I came here, I studied agriculture in college.”

“I know. Chapultepec University. Celia told me,” Matt said.

“If you ever want a story to get all over the place, tell it to Celia,” said the jefe with some annoyance. “She probably told you that the farmland in Aztlán was poisoned with chemicals.” Matt nodded. “It would break your heart to see it. What were once beautiful fields of corn and wheat have turned into desert. The plants grow twisted. Men and women who tend them fall ill with strange diseases. It’s like what happened to the Maya in Yucatán long ago. They ruined their environment, and their civilization collapsed. You’d think their descendants would have learned not to kill the earth that feeds them, but humans are endlessly stupid and greedy.”

A line of men and women in white tunics walked from the distant grain fields. Each carried a basket of wheat on his or her head, and they walked with such grace that Matt caught his breath. They were like a line of music.

“Originally, I planned to go to the United States,” said Cienfuegos. “There’s a place in the north where they study how to repair soil, but as you know, I ended up here. Then I heard about the biosphere.” A rain cloud passed briefly and pattered rain on their heads. Listen turned up her face and tried to catch the drops in her mouth. Mirasol didn’t appear to notice, but somehow in this cool, clean atmosphere, she looked more alive. More beautiful.

“The first biosphere, the one in the United States, had a problem,” the jefe continued. “No matter how careful the scientists were, they couldn’t keep the soil productive. Toxic waste built up.”

The harvesters had disappeared among trees at the far end of the building. Matt would have liked to follow them, to see what they did with the grain, but he didn’t want to interrupt Cienfuegos.

“El Patrón solved the problem. Oh, not by himself,” the jefe said. “He hired top scientists to do it. They were the first inhabitants of the Alacrán biosphere, and according to Dr. Rivas, they were imprisoned here. They had to find a way to purify the soil or they would die when the system broke down. A typical El Patrón strategy.”

“Why didn’t he let them go home after they fixed things?” asked Listen.

Cienfuegos laughed. “Once the old man owned something, he never let it go.”

“So they stayed here, had children, and turned into frogherds.”

“I think that’s what happened,” said the jefe.

“We’re here to find out how they purified the soil,” Matt guessed.

“I hope so. This place is huge, and I don’t know who to ask. If all the scientists are gone, perhaps no one can explain how it was done.” Cienfuegos unfolded the map again and laid it out so the children could look at it. Buildings were labeled NORTHERN EUROPE, THE MEDITERRANEAN, OCEANIA, SUB-SAHARAN AFRICA—

“Let’s look at that,” cried Listen, poking the map with her finger.

“I didn’t know you could read,” Matt said.

“Can’t read everything. But I know Africa,” the little girl declared.

“Let me see. We probably have time to visit four ecosystems on this trip. We can pass through Africa on the way to the Mushroom Forest,” Cienfuegos said.

25

THE MUSHROOM MASTER

Matt realized that the biosphere was much larger than he’d imagined. There were dozens of buildings, each a mile or more long. If the Scorpion Star was built on this scale, it was no wonder they needed hovercrafts to get around. Most of the regions were named for parts of the world, but a few were labeled WATER, AIR, KITCHEN and, more mysteriously, GAIA’S DOMAIN, DORMANCY, and BRAT ENCLOSURE. The Mushroom Forest was two buildings away. Beyond it was KITCHEN and a small building labeled EXIT.

Northern Europe was so full of trees they couldn’t see the other end of the building for a while, but eventually they came to a long corridor. The air grew warmer and more humid as they walked, and presently they came to the next building, Oceania. Before them lay a wide expanse of water, beside which curved a white sandy beach. The water flowed in and withdrew in a regular rhythm. “Look at that. They’ve found a way to make tides,” said Cienfuegos, pleased.