Who Knows How a Garden Grows?

The LED display on Amelie's faceplate blinks rapidly as the robot downloads the data from the floppy disk inserted into the drive in their chest. Clicks and whirs sound within their chassis. Then, after some time, a computerized *DING* sounds, followed by a whooshing startup noise. The disk drive unlatches, and Amelie withdraws the 5-1/4" wobbly disk, storing it safely in another part of their body.

"Data download successful. Activating gardening subroutines," Amelie states. They pick up a trowel and twirl it with a flourish."Analyzing... Determining optimal garden layout... Neat rows, alternating between vegetables and flowers, all in alphabetical order." The robot nods to themself, then looks suspiciously at Sal. "Do you agree with that assessment?"

"Absolutely not, my darling aluminum friend!" Sal crosses his arms over his chest, then immediately changes his mind and gestures towards the back door leading into the future garden instead. "Neat rows, alphabetical order? Nonsense! We're talking about nature, about all things wild and untamed, about the pure chaos of the primordial world!" His voice raises dramatically as he monologues. "Nature does not accept alphabetical order! No-no-no, we mustn't confine it so - we should embrace chaos!"

Not even letting the robot reply, Sal then strolls over to the little stairs leading to the grow bed, waving for Amelie to follow: "Come on, come on, I'm sure you can see my vision! We will be like the wind scattering seeds, letting naught but fate decide where they lie!" He stops by the place where garden tools are and looks down at a watering can. "And, I suppose, when it rains. Vegetables love high humidity, don't they?"

He hums thoughtfully and then looks about the garden. "Ah yes, we were supposed to employ the help of the Rabbits! Do you suppose they'll show up if I call for them? Hello, Rabbits? Any of you around?"

Sal waits for all of a second of non-response, then breathes in, puts the hands around his mouth and half-sings half-yells: "Hello-hello, leporine friends, we require your assistance!"

He is so loud that anyone around has probably heard that; maybe even some non-leporine friends - maybe even some gloomy businessmen who happened to be nearby.

The loud yelling does indeed catch someone's attention other than the rabbits. From behind one of the hedges, you can see a very localized rain cloud and a blueish-grey umbrella floating along until Mr Boggs reaches the opening in the hedge and appears underneath said umbrella. His other hand is, as always, holding his black briefcase.

"Good day." He says in a monotonous way. "I was just having a stroll in the rain when I heard yelling." He says oddly since it's actually quite a sunny day today. Although, he does have sun glasses on.

"Am I correctly assessing that you are looking for the garden rabbits, Sal?" He asks and doesn't wait for an answer. "Well, by my calculations the chances of you finding them around are quite high. I would say as much as 76% on a day like this." Is that some type of excitement you can hear in his voice? Hmm.. Must have been an illusion. "They quite often can be found around here and there is a 43% chance one of the burrow exits is withing 10 meters from this place." He continues. "Then again, since nothing is growing here yet, they might be trying to locate a food source elsewhere. Perhaps my initial 76% is a bit on the high end." He continues talking like this, mostly to himself, trying to figure out where his calculation is going wrong.

In response to Sal's shouts, a tiny rabbit pops his head out of a nearby burrow! The dapper little mammal wears a vest and hat. He twitches his nose as he looks at Amelie, Sal, and Mr. Boggs. "Pip, pip!" the rabbit chirps in a British accent, smiling and revealing his sharp front teeth. "The name's Thistle! It's a fine summer day, innit?"

He hops closer and looks at the bags of seeds all lined up and ready for planting. "What are you fine folks up to? Planting a garden, yeah? Need some help with that? I could gather up some o' me mates!" He thumps his foot against the ground. "Oi, bunnies! Come on up!"

"My designation is AMEL-E 2900, but I am called Amelie," the robot says to Dahlia. "Your assistance would be appreciated in planting this garden. Since you have expressed a fondness for flowers, perhaps we should begin there, and proceed in an orderly fashion." They give Sal a sidelong glance as they say that. "Let us start with the daisies."

Amelie kneels down and begins to till the soil in the northwestern corner of the garden plot, preparing to seed the area with daisies.

"Mr. Boggs!" Sal twirls around to face the businessman who have emerged from in-between the hedges. "What brings you here? Actually, nevermind, it doesn't matter; it must be a sign of fate that you happened to choose this moment for your garden stroll! Your personal brand of gloominess will be the perfect spice for our artistic pursuit!" He beelines for the man and unceremoniously slings an arm over Boggs' shoulder, startling the businessman out of his mathematical trance and almost dragging him over to the grow bed. "You see, we have been tasked with making this plot the most ideal garden, and there is a conflict of passion and logic at play! And so I believe we need an arbiter!"

He deposits Boggs onto a bench near the garden plot and enthusiastically grabs a trowel from the tool rack. He's holding it in a very non-trowel-appropriate fashion, almost as if he's planning to fence with it, but he's certainly passionate about it as he gestures at the ground. "Here, behold our work, judge our balance, and tell me if I'm digging at the most artistically pleasing angle!" Sal then turns back towards the soil Amelie has just started tilling, and promptly pauses; he blinks at the rabbits, only just realising that they are here, but quickly recovers: "Ah, leporine friends, you have responded!"

"'Course we did!" A lithe rabbit with ruffled dark grey fur and a very shady-looking cloak pokes his head in-between Dahlia and Thistle. "You loud lot are planting stuff on our turf; we are basically obligated to watch how's it going before anyone digs into our burrows." The rabbit crosses his paws and critically squints at Sal. "...Name's Iris."

"Pleasure to meet you all! I'm certain your expertise will be irreplaceable." Sal waves at the rabbits, then surveys the garden space again, trying to choose a spot to start his own planting. He's not going to admit it, but he has very little knowledge of how to actually garden; he'll probably just copy what Amelie is doing, it can't be *that* hard to follow. "Hmm, I think I'm going to start with tomatoes! The most mysterious of fruits."

"Oh.. I... Huh?... Well..." Mr Boggs stutters as he's dragged across the plots to the bench. As Sal drags him along, he accidentally steps onto a package of seeds which, with the mud, sticks to the bottom of his shoe. A few meters later it rips open on top of one of the garden plots.

Mr Boggs himself hasn't even noticed. The trail of rain he leaves behind nicely wets the seeds.

Once on the bench his mind catches up with what's been said. "An arbiter." He says matter-of-factly. "Yes, I can surely do that." Everything Sal mentioned is right up his alley. Counting, check! Logic, check! Angles, double check! Only the part about being artistic was strange to him, but it was probably not important.

"I believe you are creating some sort of well planned pattern?" He asks Sal and Amelie. "I will enjoy seeing it." He says in a tone that surely does not sound excited.

"And what, prey tell, is goin on here?" A silky voice drifts over from where the rabbits are waiting in awe.

At the sound of the voice they turn and see a rather thin and long rabbit but not quite a hare. Their eyes narrow or roll at the sight, although they do follow up with a few smiles. Or smirks. Every rabbit knows the waistcoat and flatcap that marks Timber, and know that Crony and Boxer aren't far behind. None of the trio are particularly dangerous, but when gathered together hijinks are sure to ensue.

"Gardening? In my territory? I thought I had a deal with Yazeba," (He most certainly hadn't.) "But it doesn't look like it's being honoured. Reckon we've got words to say, don't we people? Reckon we have a stake in this?" (They most certainly didn't.) "So how's about we make ourselves heard?"

"Yazeba has issued a command to supervise the revision of the garden in the backyard. My programming prevents me from disobeying," Amelie says to Timber. "If you have an issue with it, you will have to take it up with her."

The robot goes back to their work cultivating the daisies, finishing it up without incident. With satisfaction, they plant the flowers in the top left quadrant of the garden.

---

"I must say, " Mr Boggs directs at the newly appeared rabbit in his usual monotonous tone "I've never heard Yazeba talk about any such contract. And we do discuss matters of business quite regularly." He readjusts his umbrella to cover his briefcase and inadvertently adds some more water to the place where seeds are being planted.

"Parhaps I can go and check the records." He muses out loud. There was no way that Boggs would turn down a chance to go through a bunch of old files!

"Excuse me?!" The dark grey rabbit who popped up earlier, Iris, twists around to glare at Timber. "Since when is the garden your territory? It's a territory of all of the rabbits, thank you very much!" He twitches his nose, then glances at the burrow Dahlia has disappeared into, seemingly debating whether he wants to stick around or not. "..Although I do agree with the sentiment. Definitely a stake."As the businessman declares his intent to perform some records-checking, Sal looks up from his soil-tilling. "But Mr. Boggs!" He decries in dramatic disbelief. "How can we manage without our judge, our arbiter, our impartial observer! You cannot abandon us in our artistic pursuit!" The musician shakes his trowel to accentuate the absolute impossibility of Boggs leaving them unsupervised; in the process, he knocks over his prepared bowl of tomato seeds, scattering them all over the soil, in complete rejection of Amelie's well-curated pattern.

"Ah, bother," he glances at the mess, then shrugs and smiles brightly. "Well, it's plants, I'm sure they'll figure out where to grow! We can call it a drop of chaos in our cocktail of ingenuity! Hmm, that can make for a good song title..." Sal seems to get lost in thought here, humming something under his nose and contributing nothing to either the garden or the rabbit dispute. He's sure it'll all work out itself while he's caught on the wave of inspiration!

As Mr. Boggs becomes distracted by the legalities of garden ownership, Amelie moves to finish planting the patch of dandelions that he has started on. Unfortunately, the robot accidentally knocks over a large bag of soil, spilling it all over!

"Oh, bother," they sigh, their programming compelling them to stop what they're doing and clean up the mess before proceeding. They grab a nearby rake and start pushing the dirt into a tidy pile.

Mr Boggs takes some time to weigh the options in his head. On the one hand, he could go inside and browse archives which he enjoyed. On the other hand, he could judge the planting and grade the participants according to multiple statistical parameters. Oh boy, this was going to be a tough decision!

"Excuse me while I think about this." He says as he starts to pace up and down along the garden.

"Wazzat?" Timber, who'd taken his hat off to smooth back his ears, immediately dons it again to glare at Iris. "This garden's always been my territory, since my great-grandmother, god rest her soul."

His two heavies nod, until one of them; likely Crony... or Boxer (it's hard to tell) speaks up. "But, er, Timber didn't you just say you had a deal with Yazeba?"

Timber's bravado fades away at being undermined in front of Iris, and he bristles. "I did. See, that's cuz- er, Yazeba came along and tried to claim with from grandmother."

"So where does the rest of your family fit in?" Boxer, or possibly Crony, taps their chin. "If it's been in your family's name all this time."

Boiling over, Timber thumps his foot on the ground. "That's not important, see. What is important is that this is my territory!"

Mr Boggs is still pacing along the garden, trying to figure out what to do. As he does so, the many drops of water coming from his umbrella fall onto the fresh plots made for veggies or flowers, giving the soil and seeds some well needed moisture.