Inside one of the laboratory chambers, a young researcher donned in a pristine lab coat hunched over a microscope, meticulously examining a plant sample and jotting down notes. This researcher was none other than Dr. Faris, the head of the clinical-botanical research room within the pandemic crisis department.

Dr. Faris, his glasses perched on his forehead, remained engrossed in his work, oblivious to the officer's arrival.

"I see you're quite occupied, Doctor," remarked Sarin.

Startled, Dr. Faris looked up, his eyes widening in surprise. "Sergeant Sarin! What a pleasant surprise!"

"We've transferred the body of the infected individual we found on Third Street to the morgue," Sarin informed.

"I see," the doctor replied absentmindedly.

Dr. Faris, still immersed in his examination, added a touch of sarcasm to his words, "It appears that some of my colleagues in the clinical department continue to believe that by scrutinizing the cancerous brains of the deceased, they can discover a miraculous cure for this enigmatic ailment. I believe they call it 'desperation.'"

Sarin, leaning over to examine the plant sample, couldn't resist a sardonic response. "Ah, yes, I nearly forgot that our esteemed Dr. Faris here believes in conversing with trees. Ha ha! Any progress on that front?"

The doctor eventually lifted his gaze from the microscope. "Yes and no."

Sarin raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"As you may recall, it all began when I initiated a conversation with the ancient pine tree in our yard, and it provided me with valuable insights for the initial prevention of the brain-devouring plague."

"True, the old pine tree in your yard. I still find it hard to believe you spoke to a tree."

"Haha! Many thought I had lost my sanity. They ridiculed me relentlessly until I encountered others who had similar experiences, finally validating my theory."

"Ah, yes, the groundbreaking discovery that propelled you into the limelight, earning you the nickname of 'the tree whisperer.'"

"Let's not dwell on that. Anyway, in my research, I've posited that the virus responsible for transforming human brains into malignant tumors might have also affected trees, imbuing them with the ability to communicate with humans."

Sarin interjected skeptically, "That's a wild speculation."

"Nevertheless, I've yet to decipher the specific traits in individuals that enable them to comprehend the language of trees."

"I'm not sure I follow."

"Walk this way," Dr. Faris said, leading Sarin to a glass enclosure at the end of the hall. Within, various plant seedlings of diverse sizes flourished beneath artificial illumination.

"Observe these saplings. My research suggests that the older and taller a tree, the more knowledge it possesses. In theory, an average person could communicate with a two- or three-year-old tree, but not everyone can converse with an ancient one."

He rubbed his hands together in enthusiasm. "Imagine a tree as ancient as the three-thousand-year-old yew in the jungle park! If we can find an individual who can understand its language, we'd gain access to a treasure trove of knowledge."

Sarin was intrigued. "Have you discovered anyone with such a unique gift?"

"No, but until that time comes, it's your responsibility to ensure that no harm befalls that colossal yew tree and the orchids surrounding it," Dr. Faris asserted.