In a not-distant-enough future, climate change and pollution have throttled plants of their ability to communicate with the natural world around them. No longer needing to rely upon animal pollinators, flowers have shed their tantalizing forms and devolved into colorless, unassuming things—awaiting pollination by brush or drone, and helplessly dependent upon the good graces of the humans responsible for their condition.

But deep within the Free Republic of Florida, in jungle too treacherous to be reached by helping human hands or pollinating drones, there remains a single, massive orchid. It hasn’t devolved. Though there are no bugs or birds left in the jungle, it hasn’t forgotten how to lure. Nor does it bloom demurely to conserve its resources. Instead, this orchid has grown even more decadent—now a sprawling network of roots and leafless vines the color of a bruise. And in its center grows one massive flower: gaudy, ornate, and the color of meat.

Scientists, private interests, and anyone old enough to remember the enchanting smells and colors flowers had before the mass extinctions, have all asked the same question: What pollinates the Eurydice Orchid? But when Orion Rael Armijo, trans man and history of botany scholar ventures into the jungle in search of the orchid, he realizes their collective folly. What they should have been asking was: How does it feed?