Aberrant Shrub
During my final checks I discovered a plant I hadn’t designed myself.
I was certain: I would have remembered those red buds and the contrasting green leaves which were currently cupping perfect crystals of snow, just like little hands.
I definitely wouldn’t have forgotten about the snow either, since it was as strictly forbidden as spontaneous biological evolution. The design of the planet had to be completely under our control, and any element within the planet’s atmosphere that didn’t benefit human survival would be considered wasteful by the examinators. Too much of that, or a single aberration as significant as this sweet shrub with its cheerful bud clusters announcing future blooms, and my planet and everything on it would immediately be destroyed, its elements recycled into the next design.
After all the work I’d put into creating this fresh, joyful home for my species, I couldn’t face killing the one unexpected life that had claimed its right to exist so beautifully. It was hypocritical: had it been a microorganism instead of a pretty plant, I probably wouldn’t have thought twice about eliminating it, and this could be just as dangerous. As an Unknown, it might be poisoning the air very, very slowly, causing problems to the population centuries from now—but it could just as well turn out that its extract would cure a disease as yet unheard of.
Placing six units of Atmospherically Advantageous Tree A.1 around it, I safely hid my aberrant shrub.
I could only hope it wouldn’t snow when the examinators arrived.
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[Image description: Photo of a Skimmia plant with green leaves and clusters of red buds. In the fold of almost every leaf lies a thin layer of snow. In the background there’s a corner where a white and an orange brick wall meet, and below the plant, the snow has landed on bark chip mulch.]