The Third Extension - new flash fiction by Bogi Takács

​What if we share this planet with another entirely alien species who understand that the Plant World has a third dimension? That's the premise Bogi Takács sets out in this debut appearance on the Grievous Angel. Bogi Takács is a Hungarian Jewish agender writer and editor. You can also find em at http://www.bogireadstheworld.com, on Twitter at https://twitter.com/bogiperson and on Instagram https://www.instagram.com/bogiperson/

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​The Third Extension
by Bogi Takács


We seek out cheap rentals – as long as the house has a garden, it will suit. The Chasidic mystics say that to hasten the coming of the Messiah, Jews need to gather the divine sparks scattered across the world. That's the closest parallel we've found, the nearest concept.
    
We are from a faraway place, near but far, the underside of the world. Do you remember that time from your childhood when with much effort you flipped over a large rock, and bugs were massing underneath? The world flips over and there we are. Not insects exactly, but not human either.
    
We take good care of the rentals – patch the walls, put up new shower curtains, fix that persistent leak in the basement. We want to avoid suspicion. On this side, we never speak in chirps.
    
Plants grow with their roots into the earth, with their stalks toward the sky, but it is their third extension that concerns us the most.
    
The third extension grows into the underside of the world where it forms giant caverns if the plants are satisfied, twisty tunnels if they are ailing. We do not live in the caverns or the tunnels – we live on the smooth, warm underside of deserts, and when the rains come and the blooms start, we evacuate with much haste. We grow food in the caverns; our fungal mats need room and shelter.
    
Have you seen what gardens some of these rentals have? There is little in this world that can be as neglected as abandoned artifice. When a garden is set up to be mowed, trimmed, pruned, regularly weeded and aereated and I beg you, do not forget about the mole traps – then it does not maintain its equilibrium on its own.
    
At first, we tried to let our gardens return to their natural state; it does happen with sufficient time. Then the municipality fines started coming in. We ignored the mailings, the warnings tucked under our doors. Then the people brought giant mowers, chewed up vegetation, not letting us have a choice. We were decreasing the value of the neighborhood, they claimed.
    
So now we mow, trim, prune, weed and if the mood strikes us, even aereate, ambling across our lawns with our special aereating shoes. We do not let loose our offspring. We smile at the neighbors and put our gardening tools out of sight.
    
Sometimes, we sneak into recently abandoned lots with our pruning shears; and when we flip the world over and return, we enjoy our bounty. The more brash among us ask if it could be easier to simply get rid of humans once and for all, but we are gentle and mild-mannered.
    
We know these humans will not stay forever.