By Robert Lynch
Clesson had never seen anything like it. A single tree grew out of the small moon. Dead grey regolith surrounded the tree. There was no atmosphere, no water, no bacteria that could live in this environment. How could a single tree stand on the moon’s surface? Clesson suited up and walked out to investigate.
He reached out a hand and touched the tree. It wasn’t a hologram; it was solid. He checked his suit readout: there was no atmosphere. The external temperature reading: 134 degrees C. How was a tree just sitting here?
He took a small screwdriver out of his tool bag and wedged the blade into the bark, levering free a piece of the tree. A small piece cracked off.
Before he could bag up the bark for analysis, one of the tree limbs moved at lightning speed, hitting Clesson with such force that it killed him instantly.