Evie preferred the hands-and-knees method of garden tending rather than letting the automatic systems take over. The robotic systems never managed to get out all the weeds and always managed to take out some of the veggies.
The dirt smelled rich and natural, and when Evie closed her eyes, she thought of the worms in their tunnel homes, full, fat, and happy, warm and safe in the dark. She looked around, but no other gardeners had been assigned near her area, so she stretched herself out flat between the rows of spinach plants and laid down right on the path, her nose to the dark brown earth. Evie felt a nauseating fluttering in her stomach and her hands went flat, as if grabbing the path might hold her safe. It was nearly always in the garden where she could forget they were on a star ship, until, of course, a change of direction or power fluctuation brought her back to the limits of the world.
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