APPLES

a short story by Harold Stevens

Humans are strange creatures. When we greet our friends we grasp each other's right hands and then smile exposing our sharpest teeth. We kill animals, not because we want their fur or flesh, but just for the pleasure of watching them die. At the same time, we keep some animals in our homes as pets. We love them and mourn their passing. The standards for human behavior seem arbitrary, even capricious. Weather permitting, we walk the streets nude as a worm. Women are valued only for their ability to copulate and reproduce. They live their adult lives in the confines of Pleasure Palaces. The government builds thousands of these ornate palaces whose sole purpose is to facilitate public fornication of all sorts. Yet eating and drinking, the most natural and urgent of man's needs, must be done alone. Why is consuming nourishment in the presence of a stranger considered obscene and in the presence of a child, a crime punishable by oral castration?

The theory is that it had its origins in man's antiquity when he actually ingested animal flesh as part of his diet. I cannot imagine even primitive man willingly placing the muscle of a dead animal in his mouth. That would cause the most callous of us to retch. If that ever really happened, it had to be when we were still primates, living in tree tops, and then only when necessary for survival. Ingesting nourishment, like urinating and defecating, is essential. Though not in itself pornographic, is best done without benefit of witnesses.

Society, government and religious training remind everyone of the advantages of maintaining a slim and young looking body to enhance the enjoyment of sex. Consuming only the amount of food required is just common sense. Certainly, the preparation and consumption of nourishment is not an activity that should be enjoyed, since that would result in gluttony and eventually ugly, even life threatening over weight.

And yet, I do enjoy it! Beyond that, I am curious. After re-hydrating the three large oral wafers, (the white round one for bone growth and circulation, the red square for muscle tone and skin flexibility, the green triangle to sustain vision, hearing and sexual desire) I take my tray to the nourishment cubical in my apartment. The cubical is a small windowless room. A bare light is hanging from the ceiling. A wooden chair is facing the door. I sit on the chair with the tray on my lap. I have placed a mirror on the inside of the door so I can watch myself eat. The first time I watched, I was disgusted. I used my front teeth to tear off a portion of the wafer small enough to fit into my mouth. Later I was amused, watching my facial contortions, my chin bobbing up and down as I chewed.

Besides the chair in the nourishment cubical, the only other furniture in my apartment is a very comfortable bed, and, because I am an important Functionary, a cozy chair and my personal video screen. The government provides us with wonderful things to watch. Movies, game shows, news for those few who are interested in that kind of thing, and most important, Football. The game is simple enough. It is played outdoors on a large field, 150 meters long and 75 meters wide. There is a netted goal on either end of the field. Two eleven member teams attempt to move a ball into the opponents net, primarily by kicking it, but any part of the body except the hands can be used to advance the ball. All 48 divisions of government, Executive, Judicial, Federal Guard, Transportation, Energy etc., is represented by a team and each team has its unique uniform with bright colors. The game is very rough, injuries are common. Players and spectators alike are passionate. I would never miss a game involving the Nourishment Division Team. I am well paid but it still takes half of my earnings to pay for my oral wafers. I dream of the day when my work is valuable enough that I can afford to watch a football game from a seat in the stadium.

I completed my education five years ago, when I was 15. My training qualified me for a position at the Federal Nourishment Production Plant where I now supervise three younger employees on the Red Wafer Packaging Line. The wafers are made from plant life. As part of my training, I visited the vast federal farmland south of the city. There I saw species of vegetation genetically created for the manufacture of the nourishment wafers. I remember seeing large plants and trees bending under the weight of their fruit. Other plants bore nutritious tubers.

I wondered if one could safely receive the nutrients directly from the plants. I started my experiments by ingesting leaves from the potted plant on my bedroom window sill. A recreational forest lies just north of the Nourishment Production Plant. There I satisfy part of my mandatory exercise requirement by taking twenty-minute jogs in the forest every afternoon, discretely gathering leaves, berries and roots and bringing them home to sample. I noticed something very strange. When I chewed the plant parts and allowed them to rest on my tongue, I felt a sensation unlike any other. It seemed that different plant parts created different sensations, some pleasant, others not so pleasant. I began replacing part of my wafer diet with some of the plant parts I found in the forest. I discovered that those things that provided the most pleasant sensation in my mouth, tended to be the most apt to satisfy the hunger created as a result of my reduced wafer consumption. There were a few birds in the forest and I learned by observing what they ate. I wondered what other people felt and looked like when they ate. This, of course is not something that I can discuss with anyone. To do so would indicate that I am a social deviant and require behavior modification and possibly incarceration.

The numerous pleasure palaces are a huge part of my life. Lack of funds, not libido, limited my visits to only three, sometimes four times each week. Occasionally, I wondered how many children I had initiated and how many of them had been allowed to develop. All the pleasure palaces are similar. You enter through the cashier's lobby into a large soliciting room. The center of the room is furnished with comfortable lounge sofas designed to accommodate two. The lighting is subdued. Beautiful young women are

seated on benches around the perimeter of the room. They observe each man as he enters. The expressions of lust on there faces seem to say, "Please let me be the lucky one you take to bed tonight."

I have tried all the Palaces, Greek, Italian, French, Indian, even American, but my favorite was the Asian Gardens It was there I met Kim. That night she was “not in service” and therefore relegated to the lounge area and was available for dancing and conversation, but not fornication. I noticed her, standing by the bar, pretending to be listening to a man sitting on a bar stool next to her. I first noticed her shoulder length straight black hair glistening in the subdued light. Her pale yellow kimono failed to hide her full breasts, tiny waist and inviting torso. I found myself staring. When she turned toward me, our eyes met. Embarrassed, I looked away. When I dared to look at her again, the man on the bar stool was directing his monologue in another direction and Kim was smiling towards me, and gesturing to a nearby empty table. As I walked toward her, I noticed that she was quite tall, especially for an Asian. As I came closer, it became apparent that she wore little, if any make up. I ordered a beer and sat down. In a few minutes, Kim returned with my beer and a cup of tea for herself.

I’ve never been much of a conversationalist, but Kim seemed fascinated when I told of my escapades while in school, the strange habits of my best friend and about my favorite movies. Kim was special. I spent the entire evening with her, even knowing the we would not end up in bed together, knowing that talk was the only intercourse we would have that night was……… comfortable.

My friends began to tease me because after that first evening, I chose Kim nearly every visit. Yes, Kim was special. I began to talk to her, about the weather, the pretty dress she had on, last night's football game, stuff like that. She would smile, but say nothing. I had never talked to a hostess before, except to point and say "you!" and then follow her to her room. The rooms are all similar. Most have flocked red wallpaper, soft red carpet, and a bed on a pedestal in the center of the room. The bed covers are flesh colored silk. There are several over sized pillows and at the headboard, controls for the lighting and music. Besides the entrance, two other doors are in the room, one opened into a brightly lit shower, which the guest could enjoy alone or with his hostess. The other door is always locked.

One night, I followed Kim to her room, undressed and sat on the edge of bed. She untied her black and pink satin kimono let it slip slowly to the floor. She stood before me naked. "You are so beautiful!" I said. Kim said nothing. A single tear appeared on her cheek. She walked to the bed, lay on her back, legs spread, waiting for me to climb on top. Instead, I lay on my back next to her and asked why was she crying. Kim spoke for the first time. "You smell good." I asked her again why she was crying. "Because I am happy." We talked a lot that evening. I told her that I thought about her during the day.

This made her happy so she cried some more. She wanted to know all about me, where I worked, what I did there, did I know who my father was, where did I live? I told her what little I knew of myself and even about my eating curiosity and my experiments eating plant life. I asked her the same questions she had asked me. She had no education other than the training that prepared her for the Asian Gardens, where she both worked and lived. "You live here, in this room?" I asked.

Kim got off the bed, picked up her kimono and took a key out of the pocket. I followed her as she went to the locked door and opened it. Inside was a small room, barely larger than my own nourishment cubical. Like my cubical, it had a single light hanging from the ceiling but instead of a chair, there was a toilet and a small sink on the back wall. There were wall shelves on either side of the narrow room. One set of shelves had several books and articles of clothing including the bright red kimono I remembered Kim wearing on my previous visits. The other shelves held her re-hydrator and a supply of Oral Wafers. Kim explained that this was her only private place. She would lock herself in this room, re-hydrate her wafers, sit on the toilet, tray on her lap and eat and read. The rest of the time, she would be downstairs in the soliciting room, or in her bed either sleeping or “working” with a guest.

Again she began to cry. I asked her what she was happy about. This time she was sad. Sad because she thought she might be pregnant. Sad because since I had been with her so often recently that there was a good possibility that the child could be mine, and that it would not be allowed to develop because it would be a mixed breed. I asked a lot of questions. Why did she think she was pregnant and what did she mean, "It was mine?" And, I wondered, but did not ask why she cared if it was allowed to develop or not. I only knew that she did care, and that was reason enough for me to care also.

The next evening, I returned to the Asian Gardens but Kim was not there. This was not unusual. The ladies "disappeared" or wore “Not in Service” badges in the lounge for several days each month. The reason for this was not a subject polite gentlemen were allowed to discuss. I selected a lady I found to be attractive and took her to bed. She was attentive, the sex was nice, but somehow not the same. I left, feeling something had been missing.

At work the next morning, there was a message from the Foreman on my responder. He wanted to see me. I worried that Kim had reported the purpose for my walks in the forest and my plant eating experiments, but the news was good. Since I was Management Material and above average in articulation, I had been selected to guide groups of students through the Nourishment Production Plant and explain the process of wafer production.

I was replacing an instructor who had given a politically improper response to a student's question. I was to prepare my tour and lecture this morning, rehearse it with my foreman that afternoon and, with his approval, guide four different groups of students, one group each day, for the remainder of the week. And, if my performance was acceptable, I would be doing this, one week each month with other student groups. The Chairman went on to explain the importance of my new function. Future funding for the plant would eventually be influenced by some of these students, and that would reflect on everyone's wages, including my own. I left the office of the Chairman feeling quite proud that I had been selected and with hopes that someday soon, I would be able to sit in the stadium and watch a football game.

First stop was Security to get the necessary badges that would allow me to visit the entire facility. I had no problem preparing my presentation on such short notice. I had been on similar tours as a student, and I was a good student, very interested in my future in nourishment production. Also, I had no intention of remaining a Shift Supervisor. I continued to study and learn all I could about the process. I wanted to move on to Foreman, Division Leader and even become the Chairman before my mandatory retirement. After familiarizing myself with areas of the plant I had not seen for some time, I took my Foreman on an abbreviated tour, after which he pronounced me ready to guide the students through the facility the following day.

The next four days were wonderful. I started by explaining to the students the importance of what we were doing at the Nourishment Production Plant. The farms raised raw materials that contained most of the essential nutrients for life. Unfortunately, these materials also contained things the scientists called "flavors." Flavors carried excess calories, toxins, poisons, and even living viruses that would combine to make us overweight, sick, even kill us if we consumed the raw material. "Making the raw material safe for human consumption," I would say, "is the sacred duty of the Nourishment Production Plant." I explained there were three types of Nourishment Production Plants, each producing one of the three kinds of wafers, and that this particular plant produced the Square Red Wafer that provided us with strong muscles and flexible skin throughout our long lifespan. I told the students, “Before the Red Wafer, men became impotent and weaker as they grew older. Skin became wrinkled and leathery and covered with brown things called age spots.” The students were amazed!

I took them first to the railway terminal where a fruit, known as "apple," the basic raw material for the Red Wafer was brought to the plant. The students watched from a safe distance as men, wearing mouth masks, used cranes to unload the freight cars into the large hoppers protruding from the rear of the plant. I wore plastic gloves to show them apples cut open to expose insects and worms. I assured the students that these would be eliminated during the refinement process. Inside the plant, they watched the bright red apples fall from the hoppers into the pulverizing bins. I explained the electronic filtering process that removed all foreign materials such as worms, insects and flavors. They watched as conveyer belts carried the product, now a pink viscous fluid, to the giant dehydrators. The atomic reactors at the base of the five story high dehydrators produced the intense heat that destroyed the non-soluble calories, then dried and sanitized the product as it floated to the top. There it was recaptured as a fine, pink dust.

“The next step of the operation,” I proudly announced, “Is under my direct supervision. The pink dust is fed into a large revolving bin where it is combined with a small amount of inorganic binder, coloring, essential vitamins and other nutrients.” (The Chairman had told me that I had been promoted because the former instructor had discussed the spermicidal elements added to the wafers shipped to the industrial districts.) “As it emerges from the bin,” I continued, “the nearly completed product is pressed into the familiar red square, each one individually wrapped and boxed, ready for shipment to a nearby Federal Commissary.” I concluded by reminding the students that once the Expendable Prison Inmates had picked the apples, the wafers had not again been touched by human hands.

I had stayed home after work all week, contenting myself by watching football matches on my video screen. I went back to the Asian Gardens on Friday evening and was delighted to see that Kim had returned. She explained that she was "not in service” and was restricted to the lounge area. She said she had been pregnant and had "missed her period." (I pretended to under- stand.) Since the result would have been genetically inferior, it was not allowed to develop. She was given an orange wafer and forced to consume it in the presence of a nurse, a man she hardly knew! This apparently cured her because she said her period began abruptly the next morning. Kim said she had asked for permission to come to the lounge. She wanted to talk to me and I wanted to talk with her. I went on and on about my new duties showing the students around the plant, and how much I enjoyed it. Before I knew it, I had given her my entire lecture, not allowing Kim to say a word. She seemed very tired and near tears as she excused herself and returned to her room alone. I left, wondering, did I say something wrong? Why she was depressed and tired. What was a period? And why did I, the nourishment expert, have no knowledge of an orange wafer?

Damn you Kim! I should be happy. I have a good life, many friends, I'm in my prime. I have a great job, an important and respected job. Yes, I should be happy, but I'm not. Damn you Kim!

In service or not, I had to see Kim. I went to the Asian Gardens directly from work. We went to her room and lay on the bed, with our clothes on, and we talked. I told her how I felt. I had never done that before …. ever. I talked about my life, my friends, my new responsibilities at work, the compliments I received from my supervisors, the students and how wonderful they are, and that I should be happy. But that I wasn't. That in fact, I was miserable. She asked me why, and I said I didn’t know. Then she asked, "What would make you happy?" I thought about that for a long time. Finally, without realizing, I blurted out, "I would be happy if you were happy." Kim smiled and said, "I feel the same about you.

The next few weeks I worked days and lay next to Kim at night. We talked, mostly she talked. Kim, in spite of her lack of education was very bright, very wise. Generations ago, so long ago that the genetic variations between the white missionary and his Asian lover were no longer detectable. Kim's ancestors, fell in love and married. A terrible war had destroyed them both, but not before they had two adult children who preserved their memories and their books. Because she was a mere woman, therefore not capable of sustained thought, Kim was allowed to keep some of these books, including a Bible in her nourishment cubical. They had become her world outside the Asian Gardens. And she knew so much. She learned how ancient man had foraged for food, built shelters and hunted animals. She asked me if I had ever tasted an apple.

"Tasted" I asked, "what is that?"

“Taste is that sensation on your tongue when you eat the plant parts.” she said,”Scientists call it ‘flavor.’"

We talked more and eventually came up with a lot of what we called "Maybes." Maybe the government uses the Oral wafers to control us. Maybe that's why they are so expensive. Maybe the whole thing is a sham, wafers, video screens, football, and the pleasure palaces, to keep us content while they become rich. Maybe, since the government decided who would be born, it could decide who would die. Maybe we did not show signs of aging because we were simply not allowed to live long enough. Maybe we could survive, even live longer eating the fruits of the forest and not be dependant on oral wafers. Maybe we could be happy if we left our present lives behind. Maybe we should. Maybe we will, you know, just walk out of here and take our chances.

                 Maybe we will.

               YES, WE WILL!

Our plan was simple. Kim and I would walk out of the Asian Gardens together and go to my apartment. In the morning, we would ride the tramway to the Nourishment Production Plant. Instead of walking north to the plant, we would casually wander south into the forest. We had a few days' supply of wafers. After that, we would depend on nature's generosity for food and shelter.

The last evening I came to visit Kim at the Asian Gardens, I brought with me scissors to cut her hair, a man's hat and clothing. And, at her request, I brought a few apples I had managed to smuggle from the Nourishment Production Plant over the last few days. "Why Apples?" I asked. "We are walking out of here, going who knows where, not knowing whether we will live or die, just the two of us, Why you want apples."

"I don't know," she said, "but a long time ago a man and a woman began a journey and an apple, cast from the Garden of Eden had a big part in it.

Maybe, just maybe, we can do better this time."

                           END