22. Terra
TERRA
Taurex’s domicile was even more alien than the Market.
Terra had expected that after everything she had already seen on the Monstrum Mother Ship—the glowing flowers, the enormous wole creatures that served as public transportation, the market stalls grown directly out of living trees and the produce that literally sang when it was ripe—she would be prepared for just about anything.
But when Taurex led her down a softly curving path bordered on both sides by feathery blue ferns and stopped in front of what was apparently his home, she could only stare.
The domicile seemed to have grown directly out of the surrounding forest. There were no straight walls or sharp corners anywhere that she could see.
Instead, enormous pale-barked trees had twisted together to form the sides and roof of the structure, their trunks curving gracefully upward before joining in a dense canopy of overlapping branches covered in dark green leaves.
Wide windows had somehow been grown between the trunks—smooth oval openings covered in a transparent substance that looked like glass but shimmered faintly with a pearly iridescence when the light struck it.
Long vines trailed over the roof and down the sides of the house, heavy with clusters of glowing lavender flowers, and the front door appeared to be made of some kind of thick living bark polished until it had a satiny sheen.
Terra stood at the end of the path with her mouth slightly open.
“You live in a tree house,” she said at last.
Taurex frowned.
“This is not a tree house. It is not a house in a tree.”
“It is literally a house made out of trees,” Terra pointed out. “Same thing.”
Taurex shook his head.
“It is a domicile grown from several different species of structural flora,” he corrected her.
Terra raised an eyebrow.
“So…a tree house.”
The corners of his mouth twitched.
“If you wish to call it that.”
“I do.”
Taurex sighed with exaggerated resignation and touched his palm to the bark of the door.
Immediately, a pattern of tiny golden lights spread beneath his hand like glowing veins. There was a low rustling sound, and the thick bark door curled inward upon itself, opening like an enormous leaf.
Terra stared in surprise.
“Okay, that is seriously cool.”
“It recognizes my biological signature,” Taurex explained as he gestured for her to enter. “Once you have been added to the domicile’s memory, it will open for you as well.”
Terra stepped over the threshold and the first thing she noticed was the smell.
It wasn’t the closed-up scent of an apartment or house on Earth.
There was no trace of paint or carpet cleaner or artificial air freshener.
Instead, the interior smelled like a forest after rain—fresh leaves and damp earth mixed with something lightly floral and sweet.
The air itself seemed cleaner somehow, cool and soft against her skin, and she could hear faint rustling sounds all around her as the living walls shifted almost imperceptibly.
The second thing she noticed was how beautiful it was.
The main room was huge, with a vaulted ceiling formed by interwoven branches overhead.
Glowing flowers grew in clusters along the walls, providing pools of golden and pale blue illumination, and the floor beneath her feet appeared to be made of tightly braided roots covered in a layer of soft green moss.
The moss compressed beneath her shoes but sprang back the moment she moved, leaving no footprints behind.
There was also furniture, of course, though Terra had to look twice before she realized what she was seeing.
An enormous couch occupied one side of the front room, but instead of leather or fabric, it was made of densely packed vegetation.
Thick branches had grown up from the floor to form a broad curved base, and the cushions seemed to be composed of layers upon layers of velvety green leaves and soft moss.
Several armchairs had been grown in the same fashion, each one shaped from living vines intertwined so tightly that they looked almost woven.
Terra eyed the couch suspiciously.
“Am I actually supposed to sit on that?”
Taurex followed her gaze.
“On the couch? of course.”
“It looks like a hedge,” Terra said. “Like something someone grew around the perimeter of their property.”
He smiled.
“It is not a hedge—I assure you.”
“It looks like one.”
He made an amused rumbling sound deep in his chest.
“It’s actually quite comfortable. Sit on it and see for yourself.”
Terra approached cautiously. She could see branches beneath the thick mat of vegetation and the last thing she wanted was to sit down only to have some twig jab her in the ass—or someplace worse.
“If I fall through this thing, I’m blaming you,” she warned the big Monstrum.
“You will not fall through,” Taurex assured her.
She raised her eyebrows.
“And if I get stabbed by a branch?”
“You will not be stabbed by a branch, either. I promise you that.”
“You sound awfully confident,” Terra grumbled.
“I have lived here for years,” he said patiently. “And I have never yet been stabbed by a branch when I sat on my couch.”
“Well, you also weigh about three times what I do, so maybe the furniture is afraid of you,” Terra pointed out.
Taurex rumbled laughter.
“Just sit and try it for yourself.”
Deciding to take a chance, Terra lowered herself gingerly onto the couch.
She expected resistance and sharp twigs poking her most sensitive areas.
Instead, the vegetation beneath her shifted and there was a soft whisper of leaves as the living cushion sank beneath her weight, then curved upward around her hips and lower back, molding itself to her body.
The effect was so smooth and gentle that Terra gasped.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “It moved!”
Taurex looked concerned.
“The furniture is alive—it adjusts to your size and weight for maximum support. Is something wrong?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Terra shifted experimentally. The couch adjusted with her, the soft leaves and moss reshaping themselves until they supported her perfectly. “Oh my God—it’s so comfortable.”
He smiled.
“Of course it is. Didn’t I tell you?”
“No, I mean really comfortable.” She leaned back, laughing in amazement when the back of the couch rose slightly to support her shoulders. “It’s molding itself around me.”
The big Monstrum nodded.
“It senses pressure and adjusts accordingly.”
Terra pressed one hand into the cushion beside her and watched the vegetation rise around her fingers before returning to its original shape when she moved her hand.
“You know, this is better than memory foam,” she remarked.
Taurex shrugged.
“I do not know what memory foam is.”
“It’s something humans invented because apparently we couldn’t figure out how to teach our couches to grow and support us exactly how we wanted them to,” Terra said.
Taurex smiled.
“In that case, I think I prefer our living couches.”
“I don’t blame you.” Terra sank deeper into the living furniture with a contented sigh. “I may never get up.”
“You will when you smell dinner,” Taurex predicted.
She looked up at him with a grin.
“That remains to be seen.”
Taurex set down the baskets from the Market and held out one hand.
“Come. I will show you the rest of the domicile. You can return to the couch after our tour if you still want to.”
Terra groaned dramatically.
“You’re making me leave the magic couch already?”
“There is another in your sleeping chamber.”
That got her attention.
“My room has one too?”
“Yes.” He nodded.
“Well, why didn’t you say so? Let’s go!”
She took his hand and allowed him to pull her up. The living couch immediately reshaped itself behind her, smoothing until there was no sign anyone had been sitting there.
“That is so weird,” Terra murmured, watching it.
“It is efficient,” Taurex corrected her.
“You really love that word,” Terra remarked. It was one of the ways he praised her when they had an especially good day at work—he called her “efficient.”
“Because efficiency is admirable,” he said gravely.
“Spoken like a male whose Earth office looked like a recycling center exploded in it,” Terra said, laughing.
Taurex gave her a wounded look.
“That was before I hired you. It looks much better now.”
“Exactly. Because I’m efficient.”
“Yes, you are.” He gave her an admiring look. “Come—let me show you the food prep area of my domicile.”
Still holding hands, they moved into the next room, which turned out to be the kitchen or “food prep area” as he called it.
The kitchen fascinated Terra even more than the magically supportive living couch.
There were no conventional appliances anywhere—no refrigerator, stove, microwave or dishwasher that she could see.
Instead, the entire room seemed to consist of different living plants trained to perform specific functions.
A huge pale green pod grew from one wall, tall enough to reach Terra’s chest and wide enough that she could probably have climbed inside if she wanted to. Taurex touched the side of it and the pod unfolded into several overlapping sections, revealing a cool interior filled with food.
Terra stared with interest.
“Is that the Monstrum version of a refrigerator?”
He nodded.
“It serves the same purpose. To keep food cold so it doesn’t spoil.”
She held one hand near the opening and cold air drifted over her fingers.
“How does it work?” she asked, since she loved knowing the “how” of everything.
“The plant absorbs heat from the chamber and transfers it into its roots,” Taurex explained. “There it generates energy and puts out cold air as a byproduct of its growth cycle.
“So it’s a refrigerator bush!” Terra exclaimed, delighted.
Taurex smiled.
“It is a kelthra cooling pod.”
“Refrigerator bush,” she insisted, grinning impishly at him.
He gave her a look and Terra laughed. Yes, she loved teasing her big Monstrum boss. And it seemed that Taurex liked playing along.
Near the refrigerator bush was another plant shaped like a broad bowl supported on several thick roots. Its inside surface was smooth and dark, almost like black stone.