Those Human Hungers

Chapter 1

 

I carefully inserted the knife, delicately parting the trembling exterior of the worm. Its body split at the gentle pressure, revealing its delicate inner workings to my questing eyes. Exultation ran up my spine, mastery of the means momentarily eclipsing the end.

I meticulously stripped the worm of its remaining skin and dignity, though not of its mysteries. Once bared to the world, its innards looked like poorly ground sausage. I sometimes wondered, in those early years, if the world was pulling a fast one on me. Were the true organs of life snatched away moments before they were seen? Did the gods hide their secrets from presumptuous mortals?

During less precise dissections, I had learned that the central tube that traversed a worm’s body was mostly filled with moist soil. My focus, that hot summer afternoon, was on the large cream-coloured lumps near the worm’s front end. At the time I thought they might be the worm’s brain. I could later that they were where worms produce their sperm, so I wasn’t that far off.

My focus was such that I didn’t hear my name being called until it was too late.

“…Alexia? Alexia!”

It was Eleni, my caretaker. Standing right outside.

I was in an abandoned old woodshed a few hundred meters into the forest behind the Delinga Deliveria, my mother’s restaurant. I had the worm pinned to a smooth wooden board with a set of pilfered nails. My scalpel, a small pen knife I’d received on winter solstice. My light, a small lantern with a stolen candle. Most valuable of all, a magnifying glass snatched from Dr. Ptolemy’s office. My operating room and my implements. Both of which I had long kept secret from Eleni.
I pulled the nails from the worm and dumped its corpse unceremoniously to the ground before shoving all my instruments behind some old logs in the corner. No sooner had I finished then Eleni yanked the door open.

“Alexia!”

Eleni was a stocky woman, round faced and short of stature. Her cream-coloured skin and blond hair stood out in Naditaka, contrasting markedly with the olive skin and dark hair imparted by Narikian’s Alagwayic heritage.

“Hi Eli….”

“What in the world are you doing in there? I’ve been calling you for thirty minutes!”

“Nothing….” I said, looking at my feet.

She grabbed me roughly and pulled me from the shed, ignoring my piping protests. Picking up a thin branch, she turned me around and dealt three swift strikes to my buttocks, causing me to squeal in pain. Then she folded me in a hug, her voice aching with a bittersweet mix of rage and affection.

“I told you not to go into the woods, Alex, especially not today! We’re having dinner with the delegates, remember?”

Dinner with the delegates had, of course, been quite forgotten.

“Oh Alex, my duckling.” Beatrice wiped tears from my face, her eyes pleading. “What am I ever going to do with you? This…” she gestured vaguely, “this has to stop.”

Hot shame flushed through me, only half understood but wholly felt. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll talk about this later. You need to get cleaned up.” She pulled a rag from her apron and began scrubbing at my hands. “Always so dirty….”

We made our way through the thin underbrush, the forest alive with the sounds of insects and birds. The setting sun was just visible between the trees, the mountain peaks reaching peaks reaching towards it like monstrous fingers for a peach.

The Delinga Deliveria sat on a hill overlooking Naditaka. It was a blend of Alagwayic and Grakial design. The walls were built of white stone with black trim along the top, while the window frames were painted bright yellow. The layout was pure Grakial, with a large central courtyard in the middle. The first floor was primarily dedicated to the kitchens, as well as accommodation for staff and slaves. The upper floor was reserved for Eli and my mother and I.

The courtyard was bustling with kitchen staff scurrying around like ants. The smell of roasting meat and sizzling garlic perpetually filled the air. The staff was just putting the final touches on a delivery, loading up the large wicker casket with individually packaged dishes.

“Levi! The delivery to the Kitimat estate is ready!”

The old deepwalker had been sitting in the shade of the gnarled olive tree at the centre of the courtyard. He stood with a groan and walked to casket, picking it up with a grunt of effort.

 

“Deepwalker outgoing!” He yelled.

I tried to look away, but deepwalking has a particular gravity to it. The world buckled as Levail collapsed into a single bloody point. Too fast to see anything clearly, but too slow to see nothing at all. Then, an invisible and intangible detonation. Nausea and hunger welled up inside me as I was overtaken by the Deepwalkers’ Pall.

A strange phenomenon I’ve encountered a few times in my study of medicine is an inability to recognize faces. For most of us, faces have meaning. They are windows to the soul. There are some, though, who cannot read the language of faces. It is a peculiar form of blindness, to see but not comprehend. This is the best analogy I’ve found to describe the sensation known as the Deepwalkers’ Pall, except you lose your ability to recognize humanity. For but a moment all the people around you become beasts, lacking both consciousness and dignity.

Then the misaligned cog in my brain fell back into place, and the world regained its colour.
I hate being near deepwalks. No one does, of course, but I’ve always felt that I am particularly sensitive to Deepwalkers Pall. It is unfortunate that many facets of my life have conspired to expose me to to deepwalking constantly.

The bustle of the kitchen around me hardly slowed, so adapted were the kitchen staff to the phenomena. Eleni and I stood shuddering for several seconds before she regained her sense of urgency.

“Go, get changed, then meet me at the large dining room.”

“Yes Eli.”

I sprinted up the stairs to my room. It was small but well appointed, with a low-built bed, wash basin, and my collection of cloth dolls and wooden toys. I rinsed my hands, shed my muddy clothes, and pulled on a clean dress.

There were two dining rooms on the upper floor: a small one for our private meals and a larger one where my mother entertained guests and business associates. That night we were hosting delegates of the Northern Reach Alliance after a prolonged day of politicking in Naditaka’s municipal hall.

For those unfamiliar with rural politics, most towns in the eastern foothills fall below the 20,000 citizen threshold for parliamentary representation. So they form conglomerates, collectively sponsoring and scrutinizing a parliamentarian. That day Naditaka was currently playing host to delegates from the two other towns that comprised the Northern Reach Alliance. As one of the wealthiest people in the region, my mother was thoroughly embroiled in these machinations, and hosting the after-party was an easy way to boost her influence.

When Eleni and I entered the dining room most of the guests were still mingling. There were about fifty of them, all dressed in their rural finery and engaged in jovial discussion after a long day of negotiations. I wound my way through them and took my seat next to my mother at the head of the table.

Sona Zhafaria was a severe woman, tall and lean, straight backed with sharp features. he was always draped in immaculate dark dresses, not so much fashionable as timelessly aristocratic. Her eyes had a most admirable intensity which I would come to envy: rare was the person who could match her gaze.

“Eleni. Dear Alexia.” She said, giving me a light kiss on the forehead. “It is good to see you after such a long day.”

I murmured acknowledgment as my mother and Eli briefly touched hands over my head. Then my mother stood, tapping her empty drinking bowl against the table.

“Friends and allies, please be seated. My cooks have been working hard to prepare this food for you tonight, so we should not let it grow cold! Vataro, may I ask for you to perform a blessing?”
As the delegates found their seats the corpulent priest of Goru rose pendulously to his feet. “Of course, Sona, of course. Gods above and below, we thank you for this feast before us. Rishma, we thank you for the plants that grow from the earth. Gallio, we are grateful for your rains and temperance. Kalasi, we acknowledge the sacrifice of your beasts. To you and your kin we dedicate this meal.”

He washed his hands in the basin proffered by one of my mother’s slaves on his left, then poured a small dose of wine into the bowl of consecrated earth held on his right. The slaves then carried the sacred objects around the table, each guest performing obeisance in turn. Finally, with the ceremony finished, the food began to emerge.

The fair was extravagant. I was used to eating well, but the best was always saved for events such as this. Steaming platters of lentils and beans, small bowls of olives and figs. A whole roast lamb, studded with rosemary and resting on a bed of garlic. Wine, watered to each guests preference. Excluded from the productive conversation surrounding me, I dedicated myself to consumption.

“Exquisite as always, Zhafaria!” One of the guests proclaimed from a couple seats down.

“You are too kind, Agestos. Many of these dishes are made with ingredients from your very own farm.”

Agestos smacked his lips. “My farms supply hundreds with food. But noen of my other patrons make dishes as exquisite as this. A true value-added product.”

“You flatter me, Agestos.”

“Not as much as you would flatter me if you would accept my invitation to discuss the merits of vertical integration.”

“Oh give it a rest, Agi!” Someone yelled from further down the table. “She isn’t going to ‘integrate’ with you, vertically or otherwise!”

My mother smiled demurely as laughter rang throughout the room. “As one of my key suppliers and as my longstanding friend, there is always space in my calendar for you Agestos. However, I am not looking to make any major shifts to my business at this time.”

“Agestos’ face clouded briefly, then his jovial chortle joined the chorus of general merriment.
 

To my left, Eleni’s neighbor leaned in. “So, what does your lady think of the subsidy proposal, Ms. Ishoyros?”

Oh, Mr. Ponros, you know I wouldn’t dare speak on my master’s behalf.”

“Of course, of course. Then, what is your opinion?”

“I am honoured, Mr. Ponros, that you are interested in this lowly slave’s opinion. Obviously such affairs are beyond my station, but it is unclear to me why these supposedly lucrative mining projects require such subsidies.”

“Ah, a fair question! Allow me to elucidate. The mines will surely be hugely profitable, but they require substantial capital investment. It will be years before we are able to match the efficiency of Perultian operations. We need roads, worker accommodations, proper infrastructure.”

“But why should the Northern Reach Alliance support you in parliament?”

“In the long run, the mines will be beneficial to all of Narik. They will give factories in Labinska cheaper access to coal and ore, while fostering economic development in the eastern reach.” Ponros leaned forward, and for just a moment I saw a small piece of paper in his hand. Then it was gone, palmed by Eleni.

“Well, I’m sure you’re right. If the subject arises, I’ll pass on what you’ve said to Ms. Zhafaria.”
Dessert was brought out, fried dough drizzled in honey. Then, dinner was finished. Mother’s guests slowly trickled out, bellies full and spirits well-lubricated.

“You were very good tonight.” Eleni whispered. I nodded, still licking the last of the honey from my fingers.

“Your mother and I are going to talk, so you can run along and play in your room.”

I glanced at her hands, one of which was closed in a fist. “Ok.”

Having finished wishing the last guests well my mother walked over to us, briefly touching my shoulder before walking off with Eleni in tow. I briefly pretended to head towards my room before dashing to my listening point.

When Eleni and my mother were having one of their ‘serious’ talks, they usually met in my mother’s office. Last year, I had discovered that the wall in the adjacent room was sufficiently thin to allow easy eavesdropping. Arriving before my tardy caregivers, I slipped into our private shrine and closed the door.

The shrine room was perpetually lit with candles, as befitting our station and wealth. The shrine was dedicated to three gods. The centre belonged to Goru, signified by a bowl of sacred earth. On the left was a bowl of water representing Kymos, for few within a hundred kilometers of the ocean dared snub the temperamental sea god. Finally, on the right, a pot of ash for Sysperos, the patron god of our family’s ancestral home. I performed a quick obeisance to each in turn, begging their forgiveness while I shared their space. Then I pressed my ear against the wall.

 

Shortly thereafter I heard  them enter the office.

“Oh gods, Eli, what a tedious day! And I swear, if Agestos tries to woo me one more time…”

“I’m not entirely sure he was aiming to be lewd, Sona.”

“Even worse! What a boor. But onto more important things. I saw Ponros was talking to you.”

“Yes, he asked me to pass this on.”

A pause, then a low whistle. “A generous offer. I think he over-estimates my influence.”

“No one would ever want to be in your poor graces, Sona, for fear of being excluded from your after parties.”

My mother laughed. “Well, I will have to think on this. Oh Eleni, You are the best investment I ever made. Whatever am I going to do once you buy your freedom? How many years do you think you have left now?”

“I estimate four years. But I’m sure you’ll do just fine without me.”

“We’ll have to make do, I suppose. Poor Alexia, though, she’ll be crushed when you leave. Speaking of which, how has she been behaving lately?”

“She’s been very good. Her tutor always tells me he’s never met a child who learns so quickly.”

“He’s my employee, of course that’s what he says. Any… other issues?”

There was a long pause.

“She went to the shed again, didn’t she?”

Eleni sighed. “Yes. I found her there this afternoon.”

“Oh Eleni. What is wrong with that girl?”

My heart dropped.

“Sona… it is probably just a phase. She is young, and she is very bright.”

“She is strange, Eleni! She doesn’t spend time with other children. Her head is always in the clouds. What kind of child spends their time dissecting insects in a woodshed?”

I felt like I was falling. It is easy to deceive oneself, to make desire reality. I had believed my inquiries discreet, my vivisections clandestine. The wishfulness of my beliefs were laid bare, as was their foolishness. As was my mother’s scorn.

“Children are not always the most empathetic, Sona. I remember my father telling me how I used to pull the legs off spiders as a tot.”

“But surely she should have grown past that stage by now? She’s almost twelve, Eleni!”

“Sona, I truly do not believe Alexia acts out of any cruelty, only inquisitiveness. Perhaps she simply needs more to occupy her time. Maybe an art instructor or the like.”

“See that it is done. Just keep her out of the woods and away from that shed.”

I slipped from the shrine and fled to my room, my mother’s dismissive words boring into my head like a woodpecker. I collapsed onto my bed, curling into a ball. I felt like my chest was being crushed, like I couldn’t breath. My thoughts tumbled chaotically, and all I could do was ride the avalanche that was my own mind. Eventually, somehow, I plunged into a figment-ridden sleep.

​