Dr. Okoye's first Mist-mutated crop was ready by Day Fourteen.
We gathered in the makeshift greenhouse—a repurposed garage bay covered in plastic sheeting. The air inside was humid and smelled of wet earth and something sharp, almost acidic.
In the center, on a table made of sawhorses and plywood, sat a single pot.
Inside it was a tomato.
But it looked nothing like the red, round fruit I remembered from supermarkets. It was bulbous, the size of a grapefruit, with veins of pulsing purple running under the skin. It shimmered faintly in the low light, glowing with a bioluminescence that matched the Mist outside.
"It grew in eleven days," Dr. Okoye said, awe and fear warring in her voice. "The seed was normal. The soil was enriched with compost from... the deer carcasses. And the water is from the river, filtered through the barrier."
I stepped closer, reaching out with my Plant Affinity. I didn't touch it; I just felt it.
It was alive. More alive than any plant I'd ever sensed. Its cells were vibrating, dividing at a rate that should have caused cancer but instead created energy.
"It's adapted," I murmured. "The Mist radiation... instead of killing it, it used it."
"Is it safe?" Alex asked, standing by the door, his hand near his weapon. He looked at the fruit like it might sprout legs and bite him.
"I have no idea," Dr. Okoye admitted. "But we're going to find out."
The taste test was a quiet affair.
Just me, Dr. Okoye, and Alex. I wasn't going to risk the kids, or anyone else, until we knew.
Dr. Okoye sliced the fruit with a scalpel. The inside was deep crimson, the juice thick and viscous. It smelled sweet, with a metallic undertone that made my mouth water and my stomach clench simultaneously.
"Bottoms up," she muttered.
She took a small bite, chewing slowly. We watched her, barely breathing.
She swallowed.
We waited.
"It's..." She blinked. "Spicy? No. Tingly. Like carbonation on the tongue."
She waited another minute. No vomiting. No convulsions. Her pupils didn't turn black.
"I feel... warm," she noted, checking her pulse. "Heart rate is elevated, but stable. Energy spike. Significant dopamine release."
I nodded slowly. "It's concentrated calories. The Mist amplifies everything. If the plant survived, it packed as much energy into survival as possible."
I took a piece. It was delicious. It tasted like a tomato, but more—intensified, savory and sweet. And as I swallowed, I felt a rush of heat spread through my limbs, chasing away the constant low-grade exhaustion that had become my baseline.
[CONSUMED: MIST-MUTATED SOLANUM LYCOPERSICUM]
[EFFECT: MINOR STAMINA RECOVERY (+5%)]
[RISK: 2% CORRUPTION]
Minor corruption. A tiny price to pay for survival.
"Add it to the roster," I told Dr. Okoye. "Start planting rows. But label it carefully. And start testing cross-pollination with the potatoes. We need carbs, not just sugar."
By Day Twenty, the fields were producing.
It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. But walking the rows at dawn, my fingers brushing leaves that leaned toward me like sunflowers seeking the sun, I felt a profound sense of relief.
The plants were changing under my touch. I could feel my power growing—Level 1 to Level 2 was a subtle shift, but I could feel the nuance now. I could encourage a leaf to thicken against the cold, or a root to dig deeper into the dry soil.
The System hummed.
[PLANT MANIPULATION LV.1 → LV.2 (PROGRESS: 45%)]
[ABILITY: ACCELERATED GROWTH (MINOR)]
[ABILITY: MUTATION GUIDANCE (LIMITED)]
We were farming in the apocalypse.
And for the first time since the sky turned green, I let myself believe that we might not starve.