Jeff Taylor had always wanted to be a tree.  He knew the feeling of the sap that would run through his trunk; the roots he'd have, planted firmly in the ground.  He dreamed of his branches swaying in the breeze, and his rough bark providing shelter to creepy-crawlies.

However, Jeff was not a tree.  Jeff was a "Livestock Delivery Controller", the guy who drives the van with all the animals in.  He kept himself to himself, spoke roughly of his opinion when spoken to, and tried not to be overly cantankerous with the customers.  He wasn't a "people" person.

It was a cold autumn day when Jeff received his life-changing news.  The news of his cancer, the horrible wasting that had begun inside him.  The heating was on high in the consulting room, but his belly felt colder and harsher even than the frigid wind outside.

The doctors gave him a few month to live.  He should get his affairs in order, they said.  They'd provide counselling service and his insurance would pay for a decent funeral, they said.  He didn't really listen to them, though.  In his mind, a plan was forming.  It seemed to him that his whole life had been aiming towards this one crucial scheme.  He strode out of the clinic with uncharacteristic purpose, the cold inside turned to determination.

He'd often delivered animals to the laboratory.  They never said what they did with them, they always kept things secret.  He thought of all the things he'd seen there, and all the things he'd heard there, and all the things he'd smelled there.  Most of it seemed convincing, a lab specialising in life-extension treatment for pets.  Jeff's obsessions led him to a suspect a whole other side to their experiments, though.  He always noticed the trees, in and around the laboratory, especially out the back, beyond the secondary access roads that always seemed to be under construction.  More and more trees, every time he came, and that with the daily news reports of how the last forest was gone, and how the reoxygenation facilities were getting more and more efficient, and any day now they'd cut back on the air taxes.  It just didn't add up.

It was his last delivery, specifically manoeuvred to get him to the right place at the right time, before the cancer left him unable to handle all the animals.  With all his strength, he ferried all the cages, the nets and the tanks to the laboratory.  With all his cunning, he sneaked around and hid the van, and crept past the laboratory security.  With all his skill, he navigated into the heart of the laboratory and found the banks of test subjects.

Some had only just been treated, dogs and cats with rough hide and green shoots.  Some were further along, a snake rooted to the ground, even a budgerigar flapping feathered branches.  For some, this might be a disturbing and cruel sight.  For Jeff, it was proof that he had found his salvation.  He checked through the records, found the latest serum - "Only tested on dogs" - and with all his intelligence he learned how to use it.

--*--

Nobody knew what had happened to Jeff Taylor.  They found his van, they found his diary, they found his copious notes and clippings related  to cell biology and trees and the ailing environment.  They found his whole life and disposed of it, leaving only the instructions in his will - very explicit instructions that they followed to the last detailed and precise letter, installing his memorial stone next to the oddly-shaped new tree near the entrance to the graveyard.

Jeff Taylor
1994 - 2027
"May His Heart Live On In This Tree"