The Baker, The Butcher and The Brewer, Part One: The Baker 18

fiction about insanity

Serial Fiction

‘‘I see you are skeptic about what’s in front of you. You have the right to be. Allow me to explain! These are the three African mammals that I have been studying for many years and I have come to the conclusion that they are the best candidates for domestication. However, generations and thousands of years of human experience had failed to do just that, due to those animals’ untamable nature. I took the experiment here far from scrutinizing eyes in order to use unconventional science to solve this problem. As you are undoubtedly aware my success would provide a food source to many starving nations. I will give you a brief run through my approach. The three animals are treated independently with personified nutrition compound. The colors play a very significant part as the animals learn to associate their living quarters, their appearance and food with their well-being. The color even though crucial comes second to the nutrition substance that is designed based on the individual animal’s natural feeding habits and nutrition needs. I have worked on the formulas for these three animals independently for a decade with the help of the greatest minds in the field. The orthodox step is the addition of the pigmenting component. You must have thought that I am loosing my mind for painting the animals different colors. I don’t blame you. The colors however come from a pigmenting ingredient in the nutrition formulas. It took about six months for the pigment to start appearing in their actual fur and years to reach the potent level that is now. See, with the change of looks, personality and character are bound to alter gradually. It’s like taking on a new direction in life that comes with new habits and prompts new actions. Even the untamable adopt the change. They choose lazy days and free food over running wild and scorching the ground for a stick of grass. The association with the color of home, skin and food being uniform makes everything stick. We created a universe better that their own. They liked it, they stayed.’’

‘’In other words they become addicted to the new food!’ Said I.’

‘‘Technically, yes. But using that term makes it sound so sinister. Look! I understand the political and social stumbles paving the way of this out of the lab. The truth is that I have put so much work into it that I don’t want it to go to waste. That’s why you are here. This experiment is not finished. It is very advanced. It needs to be nurtured politically. I have transferred the power of my assets in your hands. And I, as I have always thought you, have made the final arrangements in a triplicate. One copy is sealed in a strong hold on the old continent. The other two copies are for you to keep.’ He handed me two leather-bound ledgers.’

‘He had a grave look on his face as if he was uncertain if I would oblige with his request. It was a gentleman’s request and it was my duty and honor to take the torch from him. Even, if it was only to bury it in the sand. He died solaced! His intensions were good. But! It was a political suicide.’

‘‘Thank you! I will rest better knowing that you are handling the future of my work. I see doubt in your eyes. Take some time to reflect in the garden and then judge me.’ He was fully open.’

‘I didn’t realize how I walked to the garden and sat by his rubber monument. I rested my chin on my hand with an elbow on the table. I couldn’t help but stare at a giant ficus tree. Its leaves were as big as the table, it must have been at least a hundred years old. These plants grow naturally thousands of miles from here. It must have cost a small fortune to excavate and cultivate one in artificial conditions. Had humans gone mad? I was sitting next to a million dollar silicon clone of a wealthy old man. There were fake croissants, butter, toast and tea on the table. Complex fragrance dispensers kept the air infused with the aroma with all of the above mentioned plus heavy tobacco smell from the fake pipe. I could smell the leather on my fingers. That smell reminded me of good old scotch the rolling wet hills around the distilleries in the high lands. My suspicion that I was here to be sedated and used as a shell to plant in my mentor’s brain faded away. It was not that bad. One thing, I promised myself is never to do things in excess of the natural abilities of the environment I am in. There are better ways to keep yourself entertained than acts of mad affliction.’

‘This wine cellar is my alternative to futuristic castle in the middle of the desert. It has been here for hundreds of years, I am just another tenant. It naturally holds the same temperature all year round. It also holds a lot of history and wisdom and I am content being able to visit every so often. Not too often I need to start missing it only then it becomes special.’




photograph by paraflyer

The Writers Manifesto

Explore our Legends collection


You may also like...