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    _A bit of levity never hurt anyone--even a science fiction editor,
    writer or reader, we hope. And a laugh has been known to lighten a
    heavy load and even change the path of history. So--we give you this
    brief moment with an amazed scientist and his startling
    creations--for a brief chuckle._


     such
 blooming
     talk

 _by ... L. Major Reynolds_


 Henderson's lovely flowers were going to bring
 him fame--until they walked and talked too much.


The ringing of the door bell cut into Henderson's concentration and he
made a gesture of irritation with one outflung hand. But he didn't raise
his head or shift his eyes one iota from the tiny green thing on his
laboratory table. Tensely absorbed, he stood watching the small miracle
he had made and emotion approaching exultation gripped him.

He slid one hand toward a switch, never moving his eyes from the table.
The infinitesimal movement of his hand increased the power throb in the
machine at his side so imperceptibly that only he could be aware of it.

Suddenly his breath exploded in what was almost a squeal of delight.

The small green plant on the table was with great effort extending a
pair of tiny rootlets and was trying to use them to walk!

As Henderson watched, spellbound, the sudden cessation of the doorbell's
ring went unnoticed. He stood there, willing with every cell of his body
the miracle that would make that small shred of green take the first
vital step.

Slowly, slowly it struggled to an upright position, stood wavering.
Henderson increased the power with a trembling hand and almost forgot to
breathe as he waited for the miracle which followed.

Several more rootlets abruptly appeared, and now the plant balanced
itself easily on the bare table. Then slowly, as a long minute passed,
one of the roots made an uncertain step, then another and another, until
it was walking unsteadily across the surface of the table!

Henderson, his face--even his lips--white with excitement, now reached
for another switch. Before turning it on he adjusted a tiny microphone
on the edge of the table. Then he turned the screw switch ...

Instantaneously the laboratory was filled with a rustling. Then there
came a series of tiny squeaks that sounded strangely like a voice
speaking. Henderson sat spellbound, watching, listening ...

The door bell rang again, but this time he didn't even hear it. Nothing
could break the spell which held him in his seat before the first
talking and walking plant the world had ever known.

He picked up an alternate phase microphone and spoke into it. His voice
issued from a tiny speaker beside the plant as a small whisper of
itself.

"Man!" his voice whispered, "Man!" He nearly yelled his delight as the
small green thing echoed the word!

He shut off the mike, then, and got busy. He sat down and began to plan
a vocabulary to educate his plant. When that was done he would stun the
world with a demonstration of his genius ...

It was some time before he realized there was a ghost of a voice coming
from someplace in the room. He looked at the plant on the table, but it
was standing quiescent.

Henderson stared around the laboratory, frowning. Then a movement at the
window caught his eye.

His mother's prize geranium was struggling to free itself from the soil
in the window box! And it was muttering! Henderson blushed as he made
out some of the words the flower was muttering. That plant had been in
the room with him during some of his most dismal scientific failures,
and it evidently had a good memory. He watched wild-eyed as the plant
struggled to lift its roots from the earth ...

One root finally came loose with an audible POP, accompanied by a
squeaking streak of profanity. Another and another root worked free, and
suddenly the geranium was standing on the edge of the box. Its bright
red blossom turned from side to side. There were no eyes visible but
Henderson had the chilly feeling that the flower was surveying the room.
Then, after a moment, the plant jumped to the sill of the window, from
there to the seat of a chair. Then it slid down one of the legs of the
chair to the floor.

It shook its leaves, lifted its blossom upward at the amazed Henderson
frozen in his chair, and the tiny squeaking voice said cheerily, "Hi,
Pal!" Then it started walking across the floor, toward the door,
muttering, "Somebody's got to answer that damned door bell."

Henderson's legs came unfroze as it went through the doorway and he made
a wild dash after the walking geranium. It was padding down the hall,
its roots making little patting sounds on the linoleum as he passed it.

Henderson opened the door, and only then did he begin to realize the
scope his rays must have!

He stood, jaws agape, looking down at the rose-bush which stood outside
the door. His mouth opened and words tried to come out. But the bush
spoke first.

"I've been ringing this bell for hours," it said petulantly. "Some nasty
boys have been picking my roses and I'm getting sore!"

Henderson fainted then, and the last thing he remembered was the voice
of the geranium saying:

"Hi, Babe, come on in. I been watching _you_ for a long time!"




Transcriber's Note:

    This etext was produced from _Fantastic Universe_ March 1954.
    Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
    copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
    typographical errors have been corrected without note.