Sylvia Bishop - Chapter 1: Lost-and-found

My name is Sylvia Bishop, and I found out when I was young that I can interact, in a way, with plants. Plants can sense what's going on around them, and they can transfer those impressions to me. It's not always easy to decipher, since it's not eyes-and-ears sensory input, and, just like people, it comes with overtones of each plant's opinion. Trees, since they live longer than shrubs and smaller plants, can be a pain to talk to, since they react more slowly, and flowering plants are vain as can be during their seasons, but overall, I've learned to work with them well.

     What was harder to learn was how to get them to understand me. Talking to plants isn't done with the vocal cords, although I slip up and speak out loud now and then when I'm under pressure. I've been told that, in communicating with animals, it's all about body language and posturing. With greenery, it's more along the lines of forming concepts in your mind and pushing them out towards the target to communicate. If you've ever heard anyone say that plants have an "energy" to them, they're half right- they're picking up on the plant's communication, they just can't understand it fully, somewhat like being in a quiet room and hearing murmuring: you know something's going on, but can't make out the details.

     I was lucky in that my first experience with my skills was a positive one, and I was able to develop them without any mental trauma, thanks to an open-minded and supportive family. Having been raised with a pretty strong sense of ethics and moral code, I found myself inevitably being drawn into using my unusual abilities to help people, and, as lots of people before me have discovered, this ends up making your life a little difficult.

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     "Well," the little girl said, "I still don't like how veggies taste, but you make a good point. Would it be possible to try some new things, and try to make them at least a little more palatable?" The mother, thrilled that she was making headway, agreed, and together they sat for hours, looking up new recipes. The mother and the little girl tried out many things, some good, some immediately dubbed a failed experiment (it turns out that peppermint and spinach is not a good combination), but they eventually made up a list of recipes that the little girl would consent to eating.

     While the girl never came to love vegetables, per se, she appreciated that her mother had been honest with her, and grew up to be a great negotiator. Whenever she succeeded in talking an armed gunman into letting hostages go, or getting a potential suicide to back down and take a new look at life, people would ask her where she got her skills and open-mindedness from. But she would just think of her mother, smile, and tell them to eat their vegetables, so they could grow up to be strong adults.

Moral of the story: Treat people with honesty and integrity, and you'll both go far. 

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     "Well," the little girl said, "that's very interesting, and I see your point, but I still don't like how they taste. Thank you for making the effort though." With no other choice left, the mother went back to the good witch, and asked for the potion that would mask the taste of vegetables. The good witch looked at her sadly and said, "Are you sure? For every magical cure, there's a price." The mother didn't even hesitate and said she would gladly pay it if she could guarantee the health of her little girl.

     The good witch gathered up some ingredients from her kitchen, put a pot on the stove, and added in each ingredient very carefully. Just as it came to a boil, she asked the mother for a hair from her head, and, when supplied with such, dropped it into the mixture. She let it thicken for half an hour, then turned the heat off, and poured the brew into a bottle. The good witch told the mother to use all of it (it had boiled down to a pleasant-smelling brown sauce) with the next meal, and ensure that the girl got her share. The mother went home, clutching the bottle, excited that her fight with the little girl would finally be over.

     That night, the mother made steak and potatoes for everyone, using the magic potion as a sauce on the meat. She made sure that everyone got an equal share, so the little girl would not be suspicious, and was relieved when everyone cleaned their plates. The next day, she was surprised when, as she was getting supper ready, the little girl wandered into the kitchen and asked if there would be vegetables with the meal. The mother was so happy that she hugged the little girl fiercely, and promised that yes, there would be.

     They sat down to eat, and the little girl immediately wolfed down all of her vegetables, and asked for a second helping. The mother thought nothing could make her happier, and that things were finally looking up. Then she started to eat her own meal, and realized that the vegetables tasted... odd. Kind of, well, green. Like eating a green crayon, or tripping and getting a mouthful of leaves. She hesitated, looking around at everyone else happily eating their greens, and remembered what the witch said: for every magical cure, there's a price...

Moral of the story: be careful what you ask for. 

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     "Don't worry," the good witch said, "there are plenty of ways to get her to eat her vegetables. If she is as smart as you say, appeal to her intelligent side, and teach her about nutrition and how bodies grow.  If that doesn't work, I can try to make a potion that will mask the taste of vegetables in dishes, and you can try that."

     "I'll see what I can do," the mother said, doubtfully. She went home and spent a couple days on the internet doing research, putting together slides and information, and then sat the little girls down. The carefully reviewed how vegetables have unique nutrition qualities, and the importance of macro- and micro-nutrients in childhood and puberty, and recommended servings of veggies per day. The little girl listened to all of the information very solemnly, and then looked at her mother.

     "Well," she said...

If the little girl choses to eat her vegetables like a responsible adult, click here.

If the little girl still won't eat her veggies, click here. 

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     "Well," the mother said, "I wanted to lose some weight, so I figured I'd make myself a diet shake instead of eating food that's bad for me. Do you want to try some?" The little girl looked at the ingredients on the counter, thought for a moment, and nodded. "It looks pretty tasty, I'll give it a try."

     The mother was delighted that her ruse had worked, and that her little girl was getting the vitamins and nutrients she needed. One day, however, the little girl caught her eating a cake, and demanded to know why she was ruining her diet. The mother, already having a bad day and in dire need of some peace and quiet- and chocolate cake- admitted to the lie, and pointed out that the girl was feeling much better since she had started eating the shakes.

     While the little girl couldn't deny that she felt better, she was also pretty mad about her mom telling lies, and stopped drinking the shakes to teach her mother a lesson. And from then on, nothing the mother said or did could get the little girl to eat fruits or veggies.

Moral of the story: Little white lies can hurt. 

Story #1

     Once upon a time, (in a galaxy far away), there was a little girl who didn't want to eat her vegetables. Her mother always told her that if she didn't eat her vegetables, she would grow up weak and sick, but she just wouldn't eat them. Dinner time turned into wartime, with her mother trying to hide veggies in meatloaf, or chicken soup, but every time, the little girl would find the vegetables, pick them out, and pile them on the side of her plate. The mother tried threats, grounding the little girl in her room, and taking away her toys, but the little girl just accepted the punishment, and didn't eat her vegetables. The mother tried offering treats as a reward for clearing her plate, with apple pies, coffee cakes, and fudge brownies waiting in the kitchen, but the little girl just shook her head and said all that sugar would be worse than not eating veggies.
     The mother didn't know what to do, so she sought out the advice of a good witch. The good witch listened to what the mother had to say, and shook her her head. "Don't worry," the good witch said...

If the good witch gives the mother advice on how to eat her veggies, click here.

If the good witch tells the mother that there are alternatives, click here. 

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"Don't worry," the good witch said, "vegetables are important, but there are other ways of getting the nutrients she needs in a non-veggie diet."

     The good witch handed the mother a list of vitamin- and mineral-rich fruits, and a separate list of supplements. The mother went to the store, bought the suggested items, and went home, still a little nervous. "What if she knows what I'm doing?" she thought. "My little girl is a pretty smart cookie- if she keeps being stubborn, I'm worried that she'll get sick!"

     When she got home, she put some of the fruits into an old blender they had, added some milk and ice, and started making a smoothie. The little girl came in, curious as to what the noise was, and asked her mother what she was doing. "Well," the mother said...

If the mother lies to the girl so that will drink the shake, click here.

If the mother tells the truth, click here.