The news that the plant restarted all the machines spread through the town at lightning speed. Most people didn't believe it, pointing out that it was more likely that somebody with a peculiar sense of humor decided to pull a prank. Others ventured less benign explanations, covering the entire range from alien conspiracies (apparently Jack was not alone in his search for extraterrestrial involvement) to the impending apocalypse.

Regardless of the explanation, all the town's folks were nervous, in equal parts due to the unexplained nature of the occurrence and its potential impact on the future of the factory.

Nobody managed to figure out how the vine got into the steam pipes, and even less on how it changed itself to survive in such a hostile environment, but the botanists finally managed to figure out what kind of plant it was. It seemed to be a distant relative of the Carolina Jessamine vine, poor man's rope, as they called it, at least that's what it started out as, before it mutated twice and shed its biological shell to evolve into a partly inorganic hybrid.

Despite all the hype around external intervention, alien, divine or otherwise, the scientific basis of what had happened to facilitate the evolution the plant into what it was now was quite self-explanatory, which made the cascading sequence of consequences even more difficult to accept, because, in people's minds, nothing this straightforward should have been allowed to radically change life as they knew it. The scientists' theory about alternate electron transfer between one side of the pipe and the other, transfer that put the pipe itself in a perpetual state of flux, became a very popular subject of conversation around the dinner table, and even young children became adept at reproducing it adequately, even if not understanding it completely. After a while, the concept of a plant that self-welds to metal stopped raising eyebrows in the community, even in its most skeptical of members.

The only entity not in the least affected by the commotion was the plant itself, which minded its chlorophyll driven life quietly, happy to thrive in its new environment. The production output went up another ten percent during the following month, but everybody was too spooked by the strange bio-mechanical monster to notice.

Overall nothing had changed, other than the impressive increase in the factory's output, nothing, that is, if one could bring oneself to ignore the giant presence in the middle of the floor, whose coppery-green mass of leaves, sprouts and curlicues filled up every nook and cranny between the pieces of machinery. Nobody could.

“I can't deal with this!” Tom blurted at the dinner table, frustrated, while Carol tried to maintain a pleasant family atmosphere, for the benefit of everyone's digestion.

“I'm sure it's not that bad, honey! What can it possibly do to annoy you, it's just a plant,” she tried to appease him.

“It's not just a plant! It's evil spawn, I tell you, the malevolent sprout from … you know where!” he said, remembering Carol's ban on mentioning evil inside the house. “Nothing alive should be able to thrive at three hundred degrees!” Tom fumed, even more irate. “Look at this! Look! Look! Have you seen this?!” he pointed to a burn on the back of his arm, burn that unfortunately didn't require an explanation. “I shouldn't be able to burn myself with foliage! Inside!” he ranted.

“Have you guys tried training it on a string?” Carol asked in an attempt to be helpful, unaware of the fact that the entire concept of interacting with plant life in the context of factory production was simply unthinkable to a technically minded person.

“No, Carol! We haven't tried training it on a string! Should I be mindful of any other gardening practices? Do we need to fertilize it on occasion? Prune it, to keep it healthy? Oh, wait! We can't prune it! And you know why? Because it's made of metal and sprouted by the unholy one himself to bring misery to our lives!” he ranted, exasperated.

“No need to take out your frustrations on me, I have my hands full around here too!” Carol protested, smiling reassuringly to the children. The girls rolled their eyes and returned to their side conversation, and Richard pretended not to pay attention, so he could get as much out of the discussion as he was able.

“I'm sorry, dear! We're all at wit's end. Yesterday we had clear out a whole section of storage before the menace found its way inside and wrecked the lot of it. It's like the cursed think has a mind of its own, I swear to you! After we were done clearing the space, the vine looped around itself and steered clear of the area altogether, and now we have to waste another day and move everything back,” he complained.

“Well, at least the output is not affected. Or the capacity,” Carol kept looking for the silver lining.

“It's not our capacity, it's its capacity! Only God knows what it will do next! How can you be so calm?!” he snapped at his wife again.

“What can I do? I offered you a perfectly good suggestion and you dismissed it!” Carol commented, resentful.

“What!? Build teepees?” he asked her.

“Keep it out of the way. I thought it was a good idea, but then again, I'm not the one with the burn on my arm,” Carol sulked, offended. She frowned at Tom, to express disapproval at his behavior, and then got up with a smile, asking. “Does anybody want dessert?”

“'Cause, God knows, pie will solve our every problem,” Tom mumbled under his voice, unable to help himself, and then said out loud. “Thanks, hon, just a small piece. I'm full.”

After dinner, Richard suddenly remembered he had to borrow a book from the library in order to finish his homework, and sneaked out to meet with Jack.

“Do you still have that stem?” Richard asked him, without any introduction.

“Yes. What do you need with it?” Jack asked, distracted. He was trying to figure out the schedule of the cheerful librarian, in the hope that they might be able to circumvent it in the future and thus avoid putting their foot in their mouth again. Every time she saw them she seemed to get another idea.

“I wonder if we could make it root. It propagates by cuttings, right?” Richard continued his thought process.

“Root in what?” Jack asked.

“Remember those hot springs, just out of town?” Richard said.

“That's like, ten miles away! Do you have to walk there?” Jack jumped, alarmed.

“Actually, it's three, I checked,” Richard countered his objection.

“It's not hot enough,” Jack threw another objection, because a three mile walk out of town wasn't his idea of fun.

“Says who?” Richard contradicted him.

“Says me. Besides, didn't they say the plant was a pest? Why would you want to make more of it?” Jack asked.

“Because it grows steel wire,” Richard said, surprised that his friend didn't see the wonderful potential of the unlikely hybrid. “Out of nothing,” he pressed his point. “Think about it,” he dreamed, eyes shining, “a bright new future for metallurgy!”

“Yeah, not feeling it, man,” Jack squashed his enthusiasm. “Those hot springs are kind of far, and there is always someone there, I don't know if it's worth the trouble. It's been a while, too, I don't know if that stem is viable anymore,” Jack tried to get himself out of this challenge.

“I can't believe you! After all the trouble you got me in, I ask you for one little thing, one! And you can't even do that! Come on, Jack, for me? Just this once!” Richard insisted.

“What are we going to do about the metal? What if it needs some to attach itself to?” Jack found another excuse.

“I know a junk yard not far from here. We can pick up some scrap metal there,” Richard came up with the solution. Jack kicked himself for coming up with this brilliant idea, because now they had added a trip to the city dump to their absurd attempt at helping metal self-replicate.

Jack had to give in to his friend's request, to get him out of his hair if for no other reason, and they set their plan in motion Saturday morning, bright and early, too early for Jack's taste. The fact that his reluctant effort at what he considered an absurd endeavor started knee deep in rusty sinks and half-devoured car carcasses didn't help boost his enthusiasm for it in the least, and he begrudgingly attended to his task, which was to find as many old pipes as he could, vowing never to get mixed up in one of Richard's projects again. After a couple of hours of intensive search, they finally started on their way to the hot springs, presenting a very odd view to the passerby, as they were carrying a ragged collection of metal rubble. With their faces covered in rust and their bodies overwhelmed by the quantity of metal scraps they were carrying, they looked like two little Tin Men, before being oiled, of course.

Richard was concerned about the amount of creativity they would require in order to make up a half-way believable story if they ran into someone they knew, but he didn't say anything to Jack, who was already upset, fact demonstrated by his sullen silence.

“It's not far now,” Richard tried to cheer up his friend, despite the fact he knew full well they had only covered about a third of the distance.

“Don't talk to me!” Jack snapped at him, grunting under the weight of scrap metal, that felt a lot heavier than he anticipated when they left the junk yard.

“It's for a good cause,” Richard tried to justify himself, if only not to feel guilty.

“That's it! We're taking a break!” Jack dropped the entire load of junk to the ground.

“Jack, come on, we still have ways to go, if we get there too late there may be people around,” he tried to convince his friend.

“First of all,” Jack said, as if he hadn't heard him, “not withstanding the fact that we are planning to dump rusty metal in a hot water spring where people bathe, I'm not taking another step with this load of crap on my back until you explain to me in detail what we're going to do,” he sat on the ground, forcing Richard to do the same.

“It is pretty simple, really,” the boy started explaining, with an enthusiasm he hoped would rub off on his friend. “We're going to stick one of these pipes in a hot spring, plant the stem in it, and let nature take its course. We'll sprinkle the other pipes around for later, when it spreads.”

“What about the electric current, it's like putting a toaster in a bathtub,” Jack pointed out.

“We'll find an abandoned spring,” Richard adjusted his original plan.

“I can't believe you talked me into this, I feel like an idiot walking three miles with a pile of scrap metal on my back,” Jack mumbled.

“Just think about it, Jack! A metal crop! And, as it grows, we can bring more old pipes to help it expand,” Richard continued.

“You mean you expect us to do this regularly? No, dude! Just no! This one time, that's it!” Jack got up quickly, grabbing his load and picking up the pace to keep ahead of Richard's ideas.

Fortunately for them, they didn't run into anybody they knew on the way over there. They walked through the arid landscape, sweating buckets under the heavy load and wishing they had thought to bring a water bottle. They found a hot and kind of smelly swamp eventually, the kind of place that was sure to discourage potential bathers, and entrusted the plant cutting to it. Jack was relieved to be done with this absurd activity and rushed back with renewed energy. The return trip would have been a lot less unpleasant, given that they had been relieved of their loads, but just as they were starting to relax and enjoy their stroll, one of their teachers, Mrs. Jenkins, drove by, noticed their strange party, dirty and sweaty as they were, and covered with rust from top to bottom, and stopped her car to offer assistance.

“Great! Now we're never getting out of the house again!” Jack whispered to Richard, really upset. “Thanks, Snake! At least I will never have to come back here, maybe this is a blessing!”

“What are you boys up to, and what's on your clothes! I can't imagine what your parents are going to say when they see you! And so far away from home, too! Hop in, I'll give you a ride home, you can explain yourselves on the way,” Mrs. Jenkins prompted.

“You shouldn't have ventured so far away from home at a time like this, well, with that cursed plant growing out of control and all,” she broke the silence, after she had given the two a few moments to volunteer the reason that had brought them to that particular location. “Your parents have enough on their mind right now without having to worry about you, too. And with the ideas some people have. Can you imagine some crazies thought it would be a good idea to cultivate that pest? Who in his right mind would even consider such a thing, as if it's not bad enough that we can't get rid of the thing! Grow more of it, can you imagine?” she said, shaking her head. “But not to worry, boys, we won't let that happen, a few of us are keeping an eye on things and anyone who is caught trying to cultivate the plant will be punished immediately. I still can't imagine what kind of person would even consider such a thing!” she shook her head in disbelief, as she let the two out of the car, at the end of their street.

“Way to go, Snake! Thanks for always blaming me for getting us in trouble, man, now we have team Jenkins on our tail. Any more ideas, smart ass?”

Richard didn't respond, upset about the fact that the regular visits to his newborn metal crop farm had become a very unlikely possibility.

“We need an interface,” he eventually said.

“The only thing we need at this point is to get out of these clothes before our parents see them,” Jack didn't even listen to his comment. “A what?”

“An interpreter, a go between, you know, the plant and the pipe manifold,” Richard continued his train of thought.

“You're insane.”

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