Wasn't that odd? Part of her thought. And wasn't it odd that it didn't feel as odd as it should?
Constance stalked aimlessly away, just trying to put distance between herself and the bemused young man. In the darkened muddle of her thoughts, she nearly tripped over a metal pipe that had been discarded among the fronds of a translucent, fern-like organism. She was standing next to the animal enclosure that Walter Ames had begun to build after their arrival, made out of interconnecting aluminum pieces that the veterinarian had insisted must be brought to the tower with him. Now, Walter and his wife Susan were camped outside the grove, the enclosure half-finished and abandoned.
Looking up, Constance saw the rest of the area that the colonists had initially selected for their primary camp. It was a strange scene. The spot had been selected because of the proximity of a patch of tall, bamboo-like plants with rubbery stalks and large, feathery fronds at the top. The enterprising colonists had found that if a stalk was cut down for use in construction, another would take its place in a matter of hours. This provided a valuable resource for the building of shelters, as the stalks could be bent, bound with cords, and used as framing for sheets or canvases. The only problem was that there was no actual need for shelter. It never rained in the tower garden, and the only wind was a soft, persistent breeze that seemed to cycle perpetually through the level without any change or variation. Privacy was a factor, and the colonists had speculated early on that the constant early-twilight ambience might make sleep difficult for some. In practice, though, the variety of different semi-organic architectural structures scattered around the garden meant that privacy could be enjoyed by anyone who wanted it without expending the effort to build something new. And as for sleeping—the garden seemed to create a feeling of general vitality and well-being. While Constance supposed she must have dozed from time to time, the pressing need for sleep was largely absent, along with eating, drinking and other bodily requirements. They were not gone entirely, but life in the garden seemed inclined toward a kind of serene stasis. After what registered on their chronometers as a day or two, the colonists had mostly shed the pretense of busywork.
Wasn't that odd? Part of her thought. And wasn't it odd that it didn't feel as odd as it should?
Constance was startled out of her thoughts by a sudden, jarring clanging sound. She realized that she had picked up the discarded piece of pipe and, without consciously deciding to, had struck a free-standing pole of the half-built enclosure, causing it to topple along with a few other connected pieces. There had been some difficulty in determining how to anchor the fence, she recalled.
Eyes flashed up at her as some of the colonists who still occupied the area were distracted from their superficial activities. Sarah Mays looked particularly perturbed, as she had evidently already been having trouble keeping the small cluster of children engaged in the school lesson she was presenting.
"Is there something about that particular bit of fencing that upsets you?" Asked a voice behind Constance.