Dorothie

SUMMARY

Dorothie is the relaxed, chill, flower-eating, plant loving mentor and professor at Tempest and takes care of, and operates an enormous greenhouse.

PERSONALITY

Dorothie, unlike the professionalism and drabness of Dennis, the upbeat attitude of Edgwus and the sniveling patheticness of Quinn, she is laid back, relaxed and highly casual. She is completely free with her speech, saying, asking and swearing about whatever she feels like. She has a soft, albeit somewhat monotone voice. This has led her to be the mentor by which the students feel the most friendly with, provided a few rules. While not the most sympathetic creature, she is the least judgmental and will listen to her students if they have issues. She won’t be the best at consoling but should she need to put down the bowl of floral concoctions, she can and listen.

Dorothie doesn't talk to many people, mostly because the Greenhouse is her house and recreational zone. And that she doesn't have many people to talk to. When she's utterly bored, she'll invite other City folk, some wandering outsiders and most importantly, her fellow mentors, Edgwus, Dennis and Quinn. Edgwus loves showing up and hanging out, maybe flying a bit with his jetpack inside whereas Dennis will entertain but not partake. Quinn usually is unheard from.

HISTORY

She was born in the southern portion of Seattle, Washington to a nice family. By the age of eight, she was already tending to her mother’s garden: watering, planting, tending. By the age of fourteen, after having taken her first biology course, she had mastered the art of cross pollination. The technology of her era for botany was on an upswing with plant mastery at her fingertips, she became prolific at her art. She spent her remaining years of childhood and her burgeoning adult years at home, attending college completely virtually. She couldn’t risk leaving her plants.

So much so that she used her funds from her first job, at a vegan tea cafe, to pay for her own plot of land in a communal garden. There, she planted and grew the most magnificent and beautiful flowers, sometimes reaching far too tall for her. But, being as tall as a rose bush didn’t allow her to reach her true potential. And that’s when she met Deliah.

To understand the importance of this lovely young lady as well, it must be emphasized that Dorothie herself was extremely withholding from social interactions. She possessed no social anxiety nor was she even a mild introvert. She just didn’t really care. She was far too involved with her work on northwest flora to care about talking with or even greeting others. She would wake up, go to the garden, maybe pop in some classes and then leave to come to the community. And even in the garden, she did not talk to other growers. She felt that those people were in it for the societal advantages. Which, no issue, according to her. But she wanted full energy, for herself, to her plants.

And yes, she had received compliments the world over, but they always seemed…obligatory. Her plants were huge and beautiful so a passerby or community member had to say something. Which may have been harsh to assume that of people but it was all the same to her. They’d compliment and she’d nod and politely thank them and they’d usually leave.

Not Deliah. Delilah stayed. She didn’t care to waste Dorothie’s time with vague gestures. She wanted to also partake in Dorothie’s passion. She was in love with floral matters as well. And so when Deliah came by to stare and Dorothie’s work, the worker realized that the statements Deliah was making would still be made in Dorothie’s absence. They were not frivolous, but detailed and significant. Delilah’s face would light up with a slightly gaping mouth of admiration; a look Dorothie had never seen before. It was as if she wasn’t there. And so, she fell in love again. This time, her flower could speak to her.

However, her refusal to engage with others and strike up conversation first left her romantic life empty. Delilah would always show up to Dorothies plot and they’d exchange certain pleasantries but she just seemed too afraid to ask Delilah for even just a cup of coffee. And so, the love remained one sided. Maybe Delilah didn’t care. Or maybe she did but she wanted to see if Dorothie would start first.

She attended graduate school in another university just outside of town. But, her time in the community garden had to end as her college and graduate school time ended and she had to look for a job. And she found great opportunities southbound. Just as she graduated with a PhD in botany, the largest earthquake in Southern California struck the area, even causing massive damage in her hometown. Like many stories that spawned the Age of Lights, it started from pain and destruction but ended in possibility. The City had the chance to be brought back from the proverbial shooken ashes to become magnificent. Before she left for The City, she contacted Delilah online and they continued on and off throughout the years.

She was 26 years old when she arrived in The City, a newly minted graduate. She went to work, this time alongside a research group that set out to build a sustainable but not complete eyesore inducing greenhouse. This was meant to serve as The City’s major produce source. It required hundreds of workers, construction people, scientists, thinkers, designers and more. Dorothie was chosen to work on and lead the group responsible for the project of “Inclusion of Novel Flora into The Grand Greenhouse Project.” She had her small but decently well equipped group began work immediately on supplying plants from around the world.

After splitting off from the US only a few years ago, the governor/president of the state worked tirelessly to maintain the image of the state as belonging to the world. And so, soliciting unique plants to create a botanical diversity was relatively straightforward. Members of Dorothie’s teams would search for possible donors and travel internationally to check out these plants. Which ranged from the slightly interesting to the completely bizarre with use being anywhere from food to just cute decorations.

While the main focus of the group was meant to be about crowdsourcing unique material, Dorothie had her own side project. It was here that she began her experimenting. And creating. And while The City grew around her, she stayed in her House. Working on making beautiful, colorful, and magnificent buds. This continues to this very day.

Like Dennis, Dorothie took the life lengthening injection of DNA replicating nanobots. And as such, she’s lived through most of The City’s joys and heartbreaks. The growth, the downfall and the current. Throughout it all, she’s maintained via her enormous garden. Dorothie was a hidden gem of the scientist lot of the Age of Lights. Her history was moderately unknown during her own time and completely unknown to the modern day folk. Nearly all of whom don't know she exists. She has remained, oddly enough, completely hidden in daylight. Her giant greenhouse which sits between downtown and the Weather Machine seems to almost be camouflaged although it is almost a mile long and ten stories high.

Her hand was damaged during a botched transplant. She was cross-pollinating flowers when one of the stems was snapped and a corrosive liquid poured onto her right hand. She wiped her hand on her apron and continued. Unfortunately, the effect from this had delayed symptoms. It wasnt until a few hours later that she realized what was happening to her hand. She splashed some ointment on it from another, much safer plant. But, by morning, her inattention had caused irreparable damage. Her hand had been seared, losing skin and muscle. It was a grotesque, diseased, infected mess. She had no feeling in it whatsoever. She begins to panic and immediately starts stuffing her face with sense depressant flowers. Even though she begins to calm down, she begins to feel sick. No one should ingest that many botanical destimulants. She passes out.

She arises the in a hospital no idea what time or day. A student of hers had found her and brought her in. This student, smiling softly, was the first person Dorothie sees when waking up. Dorothie’s head is completely clear and she feels as light as a feather. Her flower drugs have exceedingly long effect times. As she regains consciousness, she realizes why she’s here. With all the strength she can muster, she pulls her head off the pillow and looks down to her left hand. She still doesnt realize what’s wrong. Her eyes wont focus and her head wont stop wobbling. She passes out again.

Dorothie’s eyes fly awake and she shoots up in bed. Same room. This time, however, only one person is there in the room. A messy-haired orange fellow. He has a clipboard, a lab coat and a strange expression. His mouth is shrugging with a cocked head. Dorothie breathes and looks down to her left. Her hand, the one she was born with and used to plant, grow, care for, cook, and all manners of things, is gone. In its place is an entirely robotic hand. She brings it toward herself, looking it over, moving each finger, grabbing air. It works perfectly. But she cant feel it. She just has to control it.

The “doctor” explains what happened and why he did what he did. His name is Earl and he is the best bioengineer that was lucky to be free that day. He is (in)famous for his inventions and body modifications. He explains that her old hand is rat food and that her new one should be just as good. He offers her the ability to replace her new hand with a set of new instruments. The one she partakes in the most is her whisk one.

This was the price she paid for…well… she’s not sure what. Inattention, she guesses. A small mistake which cost her an appendage. She goes on living more carefully. Her confidence is damaged and her mood is affected.

She, as with all denizens, did not escape the Lights Turning Out with even a modicum of normalcy, however. She too was gravely affected by the end of the Age of Lights. Specifically the day the Mind Haven died, though she had never used the network. She felt it was too synthetic and entirely pathological to her very essence. She never judged or said anything to anyone who used it, but she would never be caught using it. Also, she was far too busy to use it as well as just removed from that contingent of society. But it’s failure had it’s far reaching effects.

The morning the Mind Haven fell, Dorothie didn’t even know about it for a few hours. She finished her morning work and retired to the balcony above the main plant exhibits. She heard faint screams from outside and so she opened a window leading to outside. From her perch she could see people running, screaming, and crying in all manners of ways. Her heart sank. Normally it was never this chaotic in her region of town. She quickly jogged down from her glassy perch and entered the street.

What she sees and remembers traumatizes her. In another instance of fear and loss, she runs to her plants to stuff herself silly. This time, now more intense than the last. She is out for nearly two days. Or awake. She doesnt remember. All she knows is that the hours and days and weeks after this seemed like a horrific blur of desensitization and horror. Of no feeling and every feeling.

It was only a few weeks after that she obtains a set of goggles. This way, she can sleep during the day or anytime by just using darkened shutters on her set. Also, she just likes them. Many years, decades and maybe even centuries have passed. She now resides as how we see her. The effects of a horrible time still leaving scars, scars with a story she’s letting fade into obscurity.