Epilogue: The Geddes Voice Memos

by Oscar Alarie
Crimson's Orchard

Filed: April 14, 2025, Superior Township, MI
Investigator: Dr. Elara H. Winslow, Horticultural Research Division, University of Michigan

Voice Memo Entry One:

Passing reference in an archived trade journal, “Swanson’s Floral Methods,” 1912. Citation incomplete. No public patent record found. The product line, Shades of Noire, is still active under Swanson Bioculture Holdings (London).

The company declined my interview request.

I’ve located one of their original soil suppliers.

Evansville, Indiana.

A decommissioned orchard listed on an 1899 map as Crimson’s.

Voice Memo Entry Two:

The orchard is gone.

But the soil… the soil is wrong.

It’s richer than anything I’ve seen, dark as ink even in dry light. When disturbed, it emits a faint sweetness, not decay, not chemical, something living. The readings show low oxygen levels, yet the samples pulse microscopically, as if breathing.

The land is quiet. Too quiet.

No birds. No insects.

Found fragments of porcelain, maybe from planting jars, and the outline of an old foundation. There’s a small engraving on one shard: “S.F.S.”, Swanson Flower Shop.

Voice Memo Entry Three:

I’ve recreated the blend using a portion of the sample.

Control seeds sprouted in thirty-six hours. Leaves exhibit faint phosphorescence. The scent in the lab has changed, heavier, like overripe apples and wet wood.

I dreamt last night of a woman standing among rows of trees. Her shawl was blue. She whispered something I couldn’t understand, except for three words:

Good to grow.

Voice Memo Entry Four:

I’m driving home now. The samples are sealed. I’ve left a backup at the lab.

It’s raining hard, and the wipers can barely keep up. The GPS just rerouted me, something about roadwork. The new route takes me down Geddes Road.

There’s an orchard sign ahead. Faded, but the name

*Recording cuts out here. The rest of the report was never filed.

Dr. Winslow’s vehicle was found abandoned along Geddes Road, in Superior Township. The car was undamaged. Inside were soil containers, each empty but damp to the touch.

Her phone was recovered from the passenger seat.

Its voice memo app was still recording.

In the final seconds, a woman’s voice can be faintly heard through the static, humming softly.

And over it, a whisper.

Everything that grows must be cared for.

 

Swanson’s Flower Shop

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