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Fanfare, November 1950

Page 11

Presently a small sprout appeared next to the ever-flowering verbenaias. It was an unimpressive sprout except for the fact that it was a bright yellow with delicate purple veins. It grew.
Its manner of entrance had been the roof of the greenhouse. A pane of glass had been broken in its fall to the earth, below. The broken pane of glass was soon noticed by Herb and soon corrected. But luckily for It, Herb never saw the Kamina.
Just by luck he passed it by when it was still so small it might have been mistaken for a weed, until one day---it was seen.
Herb saw it and said, "What's this, a weed?" And he bent over to pick it, but then he noticed its unusual coloring and said again, more bewilderedly, "What is this?" Well, it was plain it couldn't stay with the  Verbenaias. They were already crowding each other for space.
He decided to transplant it, after remarking on its singular appearance. It was a handsome plant.
And so it grew. Larger and larger. And Herb Jensen was delighted. He began bragging about IT to his friends. Of ITS unusual coloring, and how proudly IT held ITS leaves aloft.
And not only the Kamina's leaves were enfolding; but also, its great intelligence which was old milleniums before man opened his eyes. Its own type of intelligence of course.
And so it grew and grew, and spread and spread. And Herb Jensen grew prouder and prouder. He said more and more of it to his friends until they finally grew sick of his talk and avoided him. And his opinion of it rose immensely when he couldn't find it in any of his Biology books.
And thus things went until one day the Kamina was---finished. It had reached its final growth. Now it could---strike! First the rulers of the world, then the men of state, the powerful ones who controlled all. He saw the way. It would not be too easy; but he was equal to the task.
"Here it is, Professor," said Herb Jensen. "Right over here." And he showed the biology professor the Kamina. He was astounded. At first he had ignored the fellow's wild ideas of a bright yellow purple-veined plant. But he had seemed sincere, and so finally he had agreed to come. And now he stared.
The Kamina stood thirteen feet tall, the palmish fronds reaching seven feet in every direction. It was a purplish veined yellow plant. A monstrosity!
"Where did you get it?" he asked excitedly.
"I don't know," said Herb. "It just grew. At first I thought it was a weed, but---"
Undoubtedly a mutation, thought the professor. And WHAT a mutation! This would shake scientific circles. But first a simple test to make sure, sure it wasn't a fake. He had been fooled before at first glance by contraptions of wire and papier-mache, colored crepe paper. Just a little slice there, off the tip of a leaf.
He opened his surgical case and withdrew a very sharp scalpel. Firmly grasping one leaf with a firm grip in his left hand, he brought the scalpel down in a swift, sure stroke over the tip of the leaf--- and stared in horror at the dripping obscene pinkish blood.
Pinkish, not red! his mind thought with horror. And then: "What kind of blood in a--a--a what?" In a frenzy of loathing, the professor hacked and slashed while herb looked on horrified. Finally it was all over. Only pulpy moist yellow purple and pink fragments remained. But the head and 'brain' if you will call it that, was still embedded in the earth of the pot.
page 11

Saving...

Presently a small sprout appeared next to the ever-flowering verbenaias. It was an unimpressive sprout except for the fact that it was a bright yellow with delicate purple veins. It grew. Its manner of entrance had been the roof of the greenhouse. A pane of glass had been broken in its fall to the earth, below. The broken pane of glass was soon noticed by Herb and soon corrected. But luckily for It, Herb never saw the Kamina. Just by luck he passed it by when it was still so small it might have been mistaken for a weed, until one day---it was seen. Herb saw it and said, "What's this, a weed?" And he bent over to pick it, but then he noticed its unusual coloring and said again, more bewilderedly, "What is this?" Well, it was plain it couldn't stay with the Verbenaias. They were already crowding each other for space. He decided to transplant it, after remarking on its singular appearance. It was a handsome plant. And so it grew. Larger and larger. And Herb Jensen was delighted. He began bragging about IT to his friends. Of ITS unusual coloring, and how proudly IT held ITS leaves aloft. And not only the Kamina's leaves were enfolding; but also, its great intelligence which was old milleniums before man opened his eyes. Its own type of intelligence of course. And so it grew and grew, and spread and spread. And Herb Jensen grew prouder and prouder. He said more and more of it to his friends until they finally grew sick of his talk and avoided him. And his opinion of it rose immensely when he couldn't find it in any of his Biology books. And thus things went until one day the Kamina was---finished. It had reached its final growth. Now it could---strike! First the rulers of the world, then the men of state, the powerful ones who controlled all. He saw the way. It would not be too easy; but he was equal to the task. "Here it is, Professor," said Herb Jensen. "Right over here." And he showed the biology professor the Kamina. He was astounded. At first he had ignored the fellow's wild ideas of a bright yellow purple-veined plant. But he had seemed sincere, and so finally he had agreed to come. And now he stared. The Kamina stood thirteen feet tall, the palmish fronds reaching seven feet in every direction. It was a purplish veined yellow plant. A monstrosity! "Where did you get it?" he asked excitedly. "I don't know," said Herb. "It just grew. At first I thought it was a weed, but---" Undoubtedly a mutation, thought the professor. And WHAT a mutation! This would shake scientific circles. But first a simple test to make sure, sure it wasn't a fake. He had been fooled before at first glance by contraptions of wire and papier-mache, colored crepe paper. Just a little slice there, off the tip of a leaf. He opened his surgical case and withdrew a very sharp scalpel. Firmly grasping one leaf with a firm grip in his left hand, he brought the scalpel down in a swift, sure stroke over the tip of the leaf--- and stared in horror at the dripping obscene pinkish blood. Pinkish, not red! his mind thought with horror. And then: "What kind of blood in a--a--a what?" In a frenzy of loathing, the professor hacked and slashed while herb looked on horrified. Finally it was all over. Only pulpy moist yellow purple and pink fragments remained. But the head and 'brain' if you will call it that, was still embedded in the earth of the pot. page 11