Chapter Twenty

"Once you realize that the impossible doesn't exist the universe opens its treasure chest to reveal things you couldn't conceive of before. Some are fundamental scientific breakthroughs and then some are trivial but quite entertaining bits of impractical nonsense. No matter, though, because our life here made the important and the unimportant become equal."

"I learned that we define what is or is not important by the standards we embrace from our older loved ones, or our trusted teachers, sometimes without realizing it, but once the system of reference changes  the standards no longer apply and we set aside the sorting sieve to appreciate the miracle, large or small, just the way it is."

 

"Sister Roberta, can you help me make some titanium?" asked Sarah.

"For what, dear?"

"What can we make titanium out of?" Sarah asked, naturally.

"Well, we can use the tuna cans, but then we're going to have to sleep under the stars. There are adequate amounts of magnesium and boron in the soil, but it's too much trouble knocking out all the extra particles. How about iron, surely there is plenty of it all over the place in this red soil? What do you need the titanium for, anyway?"

"We're going to get some extra juice for your antigravity device", said Sarah, in the hope that this offering would incentivize the curious sister.

 

***

 

There wasn't a scientific challenge that sister Roberta wouldn't accept. In record time she put together a science lab that looked very much like an old scene from the gold rush days: rough carts on wheels advanced slowly through the electromagnetic field which separated the iron particles from the dust, then an alternating pulse of negative and positive particles knocked out electrons and protons to change iron into titanium. Alchemy at its finest. Of course the substance obtained was significantly heavier, but the properties were fundamentally the same.

"What should we call it?" sister Roberta asked.

"What's wrong with titanium?" retorted Sarah.

"It is not titanium, really, we have to be more precise about it."

"How about ferium?"

"Doesn't have a good ring to it. Light iron?"

"Worse. Heavy titanium sounds better."

Sarah engaged in this philosophical debate about the proper name for this modified element just to please sister Roberta, she really couldn't care less what the material name was as long as the sister produced enough of it.

"How long would it take you to make enough for 20,000 square feet of heavy titanium plate?" asked Sarah.

"What on earth for?" asked sister Roberta, alarmed.

"ALBEGs."

"What's an ALBEG?" asked sister Roberta.

"Ambient light bio-energy generator", said Sarah.

"You mean solar panels?" asked the sister, bursting with laughter. Sarah didn't answer.

With a lot of work from sister Roberta and the half-hearted cooperation of the metallurgical team who had serious concerns about the long-term stability of this compound, Sarah managed to get enough titanium trays and wiring to cover an entire soybean field lined up between the rows.

The commotion attracted a large audience, both scientists and non-scientists alike and generated a lot of commentary regarding the possible use of the apparatus. The redhead spent the next week boiling red cabbage in very large bins and mixed in cream of tartar, stirring with an enormous ladle and mumbling under her breath, for theatrical effect. She figured if she was going to spend so much time doing this with so many people staring, it might as well be entertaining. Slowly but surely the little trays started filling with purple juice which was subsequently sealed with a film of soybean oil that had chamomile and lavender essence mixed in.

"Why are you doing this", asked Seth, whose curiosity burned more and more intense as the project advanced?

"UV ray blocking, we're trying to keep the juice vital for as long as we can."

"It would be more efficient if they were sealed."

"Yes", said Sarah.

"The electrical team is going to laugh at us."

"Most likely."

"Why didn't you ask them to make the cells?"

"They don't have cabbage juice", asked Sarah simply.

"Make some!" yelled Seth, but then felt kind of bad about it because Sarah and the sisters were connecting the cables to a large electromagnet that picked up three water canisters and kept them suspended waist high.

"It's not that innovative, you know, they invented this thing in 2010", commented Seth.

"Still a good source of energy. We'll always have cabbage and soybeans", Sarah said and immediately regretted it, because she felt Seth's formidable gaze burn the back of her head.

"We can scale this indefinitely, you know", she spoke, softly.

"How hot does the liquid get?" asked Seth, worried about the cats knocking the trays over and getting scold burns.

"Somewhere in the range of 100F, we're safe."

"We're going to trip over these trays every time we harvest the beans, are you sure this is the best place for them?"

Sarah shrugged, picked up a community cat that was rubbing against her ankle and continued to watch the water canisters float gingerly in thin air.

The sisters and the engineering team accepted the upgrade without enthusiasm or objections, but pawing at the trays became the favorite preoccupation of the cats, whose fur became infused in the chamomile and lavender essential oil and started carrying the scent around like a mobile perfumery lab.

The perfumed cats of Terra Two became famous as years passed, a main visitor attraction together with the studded sky and the atmospheric light and sound show. Generation after generation of cats were so doused in fragrant oil that they internalized it, making it part of their natural scent, and their presence was made known to the nose before it was obvious to the eye.

Like fragrant clover, one could wander for hours trying to find the source of the scent, only to give up finding the secluded corner the private feline hid in to get respite from the suns, traffic and curious visitors.

Sarah was sometimes absorbed in the pruning of a tomato chord and felt a waft of chamomile or lavender fragrance brush past her, as delicate and elusive as the breeze. The sisters hadn't figured out if the cats were accidentally spilling oil from the trays or did it on purpose because they found the aromatherapy soothing.

 

***

 

When the luxury of having all necessities ensured afforded Sarah time for favorite activities she started an herbalist studio that looked more like an apothecary shop than a chemistry lab.

Bunches of herbs were hanging from the rafters, exuding aromas from pungent to heavenly amidst glass jars, marble mortars and pestles, glassware and wooden bins. The place didn't have windows, just shutters that let light in obliquely, painting abstract patterns on the rough wooden floors. The cats found the place fascinating and the more Sarah tried to keep them away from the drying racks, the mixing pans and the medicated salves, the more they found ways to sneak back in.

Solomon had a privileged situation, him being Sarah's favorite cat, flirting with immortality and quite frankly having won the territorial fights, so he spent his time on the countertop, next to the round bottomed flasks where his aromatherapy oils were distilled. He didn't mind the heat and more than once singed his whiskers trying to get closer to the irresistible aroma, more intense and enticing because of the heated volatile components.

"No, Solomon!" became Sarah's most used words, as she chased after the cat to prevent him from pawing at the flames, pushing against lab glassware and licking perfume concretes set out to macerate.

The perfume lab started more or less as a pass-time but soon became a luxurious haven of fragrance that was irresistible not only to the cats, but their caretaker too. Sarah became so passionate about her new hobby that she spent all her spare time, which now was quite copious, replicating fragrances or isolating healing oils.

"At least it doesn't stink most of the time", was sister Joseph's commentary, even though she was trained to praise austerity and self-denial and this lavish decadence seemed somewhat wicked.

"We got a cauldron, we got a broom", she said occasionally.

"We don't got eye of newt", Sarah thought, but kept it to herself because sister Joseph was on her case enough as it was and she didn't feel the need to aggravate her.

Seth pretended not to be interested, even though the fragrance and sadly sometimes the reek of Sarah's experiments wafted around the tuna cans like a cloud from a higher dimension, but once the pharmaceutical products emerged she started examining the results in the name of common good. As Sarah acquired expertise in the ways of chemistry, remembering some of her college training and the herbalist lessons learned from her father and her aunts, the products became more and more sophisticated: a universal antiviral remedy, a cellular regeneration stimulant, a drinkable hair coloring product.

Seth complained about the latter, mentioning that Sarah's time would have been better spent developing something less frivolous, but accepted to become a test subject and walked around with deep violet tresses for a couple of weeks until her body filtered out the dye.

Normally the group would have relished in every type of joke and commentary imaginable, but it was Seth they were contemplating and apprehension won its battle with entertainment. They didn't know what would happen if they said a few words too many, but were certain they didn't want to find out.

Sarah wanted to try the dye herself, but was forbidden under the threat of choking to change the color of her heavenly tresses. The sisters protested as one saying it would be an offense to the benevolence of the Almighty who graced her with the undeserved treasure of hair of gold and fire, like that of the angels, but sadly complemented it with the brains of a chicken if she considered altering it in any way.