Martha, an astrobotanist, was stationed on a cold, newly discovered planet. Little was known about the planet or the plants growing through its ice. Made of impenetrable matter, the plant grew without opening its petals. This mystery drew Martha to the extreme mission.

Her research group was scattered through the surrounding planetary system, looking for life forms. They kept in touch to avoid isolation, but it felt lonely all the same.

Martha and her father had prepared the research during their journey to the planet. Alas, he passed away before reaching their destination. Once in the lab, she had to get on with the research. She would have to mourn later.

Ultimately, she somewhat felt her father when reading the papers they wrote together. So, she worked hard every day, doing the same experiment over and over to no avail. With the petal sealed, she could only study the leaves, and they told only part of the story she knew the plant could tell her. What hid inside that flower was the key. She was certain of it.

One day, as she was yet again getting inconclusive results, she started to cry while wearing her protective suit. She felt overwhelmed with desperation, believing it wasn’t worth pursuing the research anymore. She removed her helmet to wipe her tears.

At that moment, one plant behind her started to bloom until it exploded into a beautiful cloud of spores. Then, everything went blank.

When she woke up, she couldn’t tell if it was a dream or if it had happened. When she left the bed, she believed she saw her father in the greenhouse but couldn’t see anyone the next instant.

She got back to work, invigorated with the certainty she had finally unveiled the flower’s secret. But her blooming flower must have been a dream; it was still locked shut.

Irritated, she fell on the couch and again saw her father for an instant. Even with a closer examination, she couldn’t find anyone in the lab.

When she walked back into her room, she came face to face with her father or something that looked like her father.

Panicked, Martha ran back into the lab, locking the door behind her. She looked back and saw the entity; it was scared. Suddenly, it found interest in her father's book.

At that moment, Martha realized she wasn’t wearing her mask, and all the plants started to bloom around her. She decided to re-enter her room carefully. She tried to intimidate the entity until she realized it looked sadly at her father's picture.

It told her it didn’t know who or where it was. The only thing it recognized was the picture on the book. Seeing the sparkly matter it was made of, she supposed he might be connected to the plant's spores. Looking back at her lab, she remembered that she had removed her mask the day before. The flower bloom was possibly connected to her removing her mask. The plant must have felt her human pheromones. She had to confirm her hypothesis. So, she re-entered the greenhouse without her mask.

The result was astonishing: all the plants bloomed, and a marvellous purple dust covered the floor. Her samples started to shine with an inner light.

She contacted her research group, but they didn’t believe her, saying she might hallucinate from the spores. She asked the entity to prove it was real, but it was intimidated by the technology and refused to come closer. Although hurt, she started to see it in a new light. She suddenly understood that the whole point of her research was to understand it, not the plant, but these spores. So, she refocused and started to teach it human knowledge: our history, our technology, and what human relationships mean. She told it about her father, what he meant to her and why she missed him.

As she taught him our ways, she slowly learned about its ways and started to know it, empathize with it. Little by little, they became friends, and Martha’s once-forgotten smile, came back to lighten up her face with glee.

After a few weeks, Martha noticed the spores had faded from the lab floor. She asked the entity if it knew what had happened to the others. Where have they gone? Shouldn’t they take a human form too?

The entity showed her outside. There, through the tiny window, she saw that the spores had indeed taken a human form, but they were all shaped like her father. She understood that her presence affected the entities. She supposed the plant when in contact with a living creature, could bloom and release its spores. It would then search the creature's memories and mimic what it found. The spores here had only ever encountered Martha. Searching through her memory, they found an old man all over her thoughts. She explained her theory to the entity, and they agreed they needed to test the hypothesis.

So, Martha asked her research group to join them to see what could happen to the entities if they were exposed to more humans. This time, the entity joined the call, and it convinced them.

When the new scientists arrived, Martha knew she had to leave. The only way the research could move forward, discover new things and improve the bond between the entities and humans was for her to make space for someone new. Martha and the entity had such a powerful bond it kept it from evolving and trying new shapes. Although she wanted to stay, she knew she was clinging to her deceased father’s memory and slowing down the research. She had to move on and let the entity, the research and her father go for her to grow into herself.

Since then, the research group and the entities have created a beautiful city. The first entity, shaped as her father, always remembered Martha. One day, a book came in with a shipment. It was Martha’s book. She wrote a book on how she learned about herself by connecting with sentient life, which became a reference for many astrobotanist. On the very first page, she left a note for the entity. She had moved on, but she had not forgotten him.