Part 1 - Part 03

He walked away and I followed. We went through a door on the right, down a hall and to the first door on the right. He opened it and said, “You can sleep in here.” He then went to another hallway, turned right and said, “This leads to the outside, past the fence. From there you can see the valley. You can go on the hill above, if you want to be alone. The sunset looks pretty good from up there.”

“Thank you, I will see you tomorrow,” I said and went outside.

A tour of the Apserpon facilities

I went outside and up the hill. The valley behind me looked beautiful. I later found out from Vos that this was where the ancient city had been located. There was nothing left of it now. On the other side, what we on earth would call the west, the yellow sun was about to set. The silver sun was already up but was still dominated by the yellow sun. It was a wonderful sight. For the first time I could see the valley beyond the tree line. It was vast and beautiful.

Vos must have gone back inside. I guess he wanted me to have this moment to myself, to experience it alone. I was empty of thoughts for the first time in a long time. It felt great to be alive watching the sun set and feeling the cool breeze conquering the stifling heat.

It was good to be alive indeed. If only one had the power to turn off their mind, their worries, their fears and inhibitions… they could enjoy this immensely. Life indeed could be good. There was everything one would ever need here. It was within my grasp. Would I be able to live here happily and not become lonely and cynical… I wondered? Only if I cared for nothing, I concluded.

The sun was setting and the dark was winning over the light. It was something I had experienced back in my village. I wasn’t afraid of the dark there, so why should I be afraid of it here! I was going to stay out here as long as my heart desired.

After the yellow sun set, Apserpon became a different world. It willingly surrendered to the black and white but nothing physical had changed. There were the same facilities, the same hill, the same trees, the same valley and the same fence. The only difference was that they looked black and white now. There was nothing there. No big monsters, no dinosaurs only the silver sun looking as mysterious as ever and tugging at my heart.

I heard a rustle and then footsteps. The hair on the back of my neck rose. It was Sep, he had come to visit me. He sat quietly beside me. Maybe, in the semi-dark of night he thought I was Vos. I lay on my back and looked up into the sky searching for stars. There were none. The silver sun dominated the sky and pushed everything away

into the dark. It kept pulling my eyes towards it like a magnet. God, it was beautiful, I thought. It had its own magic. It was mysterious and all alone. I was alone. A feeling of loneliness tugged at my heart. I was alone. Sights merged with thoughts, thoughts merged with dreams and everything disappeared.

A cool breeze blew over my face. I heard Sep shiver and make a sound. I opened my eyes. The silver was melting and merging with the gold. I jumped to my feet and ran up the hill. Sep followed. I took all my clothes off. It was cold. I turned and faced east; on earth we called it east. I looked away as far as the eye could see and witnessed the birth of a new day. I looked directly into the emerging globe of yellow fire for as long as I could see. The first rays of the yellow sun blinded me. I closed my eyes. My world was now pure gold; that is all that my shut eyes could see. I felt warm all over and understood the magic of the caveman. I heard a voice calling.

“I’m up here!” I yelled.

Sep bolted and ran to his old master. “Was Vos calling me or him?” I wondered. I put my clothes back on and went down.

Vos was there in front of the open door waiting. “Did you sleep out there?” he asked.

“Yes I did.”

“Did you sleep well?” he asked.

“I think so.”

“Come on in, we’ll have breakfast and go for that tour I promised you,” he said.

By the time I got inside he had the table set. I sat at the same place and we ate some of the white stuff and a small plate of jelly. Instead of juice we had tea, or a liquid that looked like tea. It was warm and sweet with a nice aroma which I could not identify.

Vos said, “Since we have water now we can afford to drink tea.”

Yes, he called it tea. I said thank you and finished drinking it quickly like it was juice. He took his time. I helped him carry the dishes to the other room and washed and set them out to dry. He didn’t have machines to do the manual work, he preferred doing it himself. That’s what he said.

“Come now,” he said and walked down the hallway, past the door to where I was supposed to sleep and down a long set of stairs. He pulled a large medallion the size of a policeman’s badge from inside the neck of his shirt. It was hanging on a chain around his neck. He placed it against a metallic box on the wall and pushed it in. The door clicked open. It was dark inside. He did something inside the room and the lights came on. The place looked very busy with gadgets. There were all sorts of things hanging from the walls including clothing that looked like uniforms as well as weapons of all kinds.

“They all work you know,” he said when he saw me looking at the guns.

“I thought you said all weapons were banned here?”

He smiled and said, “Yes it’s true, but this is a museum and these are genuine museum articles, genuine to me means real and working. Yes, by all means pick them up, touch them, feel them, they are not loaded,” he added.

“Thank you, you must have read my mind,” I replied.

He went on telling me stories about each weapon that I picked up and how and when it was used. This was an energy weapon; that was a hot gas weapon he would say with great enthusiasm. He sure knew his weapons.

“The ammunition is locked in those cabinets over there and you need this key (his badge) to open them,” he said and added. “Maybe later or another day we can take one of these rifles out and fire it. We can go out there beyond the hill. You know, and even hunt something… cook it outdoors. What do you think?”

I thought for a moment and said, “That would be fine with me if you think we won’t get into any trouble?”

He didn’t reply.

This was the first time that I saw the letters of their language written on parchments sealed in glass.

“These are ancient letters. They are the same as we use today but these were written a long time ago. They are chronicles of our ancient wisdom on various subjects, including warfare,” he said and added. “They are illegal just like the weapons because some people think they can incite violence. They can only exist in private museums like this one. My great, great, great grandfather wrote this one here. See his mark (badge), I carry this mark (badge) today. It was our family tradition as warriors. I am the first born son of this generation in my family and that privilege has fallen upon me. But I never married and have no heir, no son to pass it on to. I’m afraid our long line of warriors is going to die with me.”

I didn’t say anything. I felt the subject was too personal for him. What could I possibly say?

He must have sensed my uneasiness and said, “Enough of this nonsense, let’s come back another time, if you want. Now let’s go out, pick some fruit, get some water, go up the hill and sit in the shade. What do you think?”

I nodded yes. I could see that he had a passion for the stuff in the museum, but outside of the weapons I had no interest in anything else, his history was meaningless to me and I could only take so much at one time.

He turned off the lights and pulled the door shut. I walked ahead of him and went back to the table and sat in the usual chair. He went to the other room and picked up his backpack and brought it over.

“What do you prefer to eat (lunch), the white stuff or the dark stuff?”

I pointed to the dark stuff.

“Me too...” he said and pulled out a couple of bags of water.

“Why not save the packaged water for emergencies, in case the tap water runs out,” I suggested and added. “We should fill the jelly jars with tap water and take them with us.”

“But we only have one jar,” he replied.

I raised my finger and ran outside, up the woodpile and grabbed the other jar. I quickly scurried back, emptied the water into the sink, rinsed it and filled it with tap water. When I returned I found him finishing the jelly from the other jar.

“I hope you don’t mind.”

I smiled, took the jar washed it and filled it with water. “Now we have tap water,” I said.

“We need to put the fruit in something, what do you suggest?” he asked.

My first instinct was to say in the backpack. I had no idea what people here put their fresh fruit in to carry with them. I thought of a plastic shopping bag but I didn’t believe they had any here. But this reminded me of the water bags, they were about a litre each and we had two empty ones.

“How about we use the empty water bags, do you still have them?”

He smiled and said, “Very good, I still have them. Let me get them.”

When he returned I got out my pocket knife and split the cut end open all the way.

“That’s a handy device you have there. I had one similar to it when I was young and had to give it up when they were banned,” he said.

“What do you do with the empty, discarded plastic bags and wrappers?” I asked.

“We send them back to the store for a refund. It is mandatory to do that or there will be stiff fines if we discard them. We are very vigilant about that. We have been trained since we were very young not to litter and to conserve. I think they melt them down and re-use them… I think.”

He went back into the other room and came back with a couple of cloth pouches that could be carried over the shoulder. He handed me one. I watched him put his cube, water and plastic bag in it and then put it over his shoulder. I did the same and we left through the front door. He picked up his walking stick and proceeded on his way out. I pulled the door shut and followed. I didn’t take my dog repellent pipe. I felt I no longer needed it.

We walked around the building and stopped under the tree, his tree. I pulled out my plastic bag and handed it to him. He put eight fruits in it. He did the same with his bag.

We placed our bags of fruit in our pouches and began the trek up the hill.

“Many people find this fruit too sweet and won’t eat it but I love it. I will never tire of its aroma and sweetness,” he said.

I picked one fruit out of the bag, looked at it and said, “I love them too, they remind me of the black figs we used to eat back in the village where I come from. They didn’t have a strong aroma but had the same sweetness when they were fully ripe.”

He didn’t say anything.

We kept walking along the fence and then we turned right and began to climb up the hill.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Please do!” he replied.

“I noticed you had flowering plants and fruiting plants in the parks at the same time. How is that even possible? We on earth have seasons and our trees flower in the spring and have mature fruit in the fall.”

He stopped walking, turned around and took a deep breath. Had I said something to upset him or was he getting tired from walking uphill?

“As you know, your planet tilts to give you the four seasons, ours doesn’t, well it only tilts very little and because of that we have only one season. Let me put it this way, it’s always summer around the equator, spring or fall and winter further away towards the poles. Each tree has its own cycle of flowering and fruiting depending on when it was planted. This way we always have flowers and fruit at the same time. Not from the same tree of course but from the same variety of tree. We have all kinds of trees, mostly hybrids created (genetically engineered) to thrive in this climate. And as you saw, we control the climate so that they can get plenty of water from the rain. We also control the wind because strong winds can be disastrous for the large fruits. It’s a perfect environment,” he said and resumed walking uphill.

I thanked him for the explanation and followed behind. Sep caught up to us.

Vos stopped, leaned on his walking stick while holding it tight with both hands, looked up towards the top of the hill and said, “It’s a shame what happened here. All the small trees dried during the great drought. All the children are dead. It’s now an old hill without children, just like me…” He paused for a moment and said, “Come, come let us go and sit on the rock under that big tree.”

I didn’t reply. I had nothing to say. I felt sad for him but what could I say?

The sun was burning hot but there was a fine breeze here which made the heat bearable and even comfortable in the shade. After we cleaned the leaves off the rock we sat on it like it was a bench. Vos

looked into the distance holding his walking stick in front of him with both hands. Sep curled around Vos’s feet and lay down with confidence like he had done this hundreds of times.

“It’s beautiful here,” Vos said. “I can imagine it was even more beautiful when Apserpon was in its full glory before the wars. I spent many days here with my father and grandfather. We sat here on this rock and imagined what kind of city this would have been if the wars had never happened. We all vowed we would never allow this to happen again. But! But our governments had different ideas… They decided to abolish the military and we became generals without armies. Armies, they said, were expensive and we didn’t need them. I can feel it in my bones that something bad will happen but no one is willing to listen to me. I want you to give me your honest opinion, what do you think I should do? More importantly what would you do if you were in my position?”

This was a question I never expected would be asked of me. Not in a million years would I have thought that an alien would ask me in my language, in Macedonian, what I would do if I were in his position. And yet, here we were, the question was asked.

“I honestly don’t know. But if it came to Macedonia, my country, I would do everything possible to make things right. Unfortunately, I am in a similar situation as you, I have the right but I don’t have the might. And if there’s one thing I learned back home, if you don’t have the might you don’t have the right.” I have no idea what made me say that but there… I had said it.

“Well, what if you had the might, what would you do?” he asked.

“I would do the right thing and reclaim what’s mine. Macedonia belongs to the Macedonian people and no one else… period. I would make that very clear to anyone who stands in the way. That’s how I feel!” I replied.

“I share your passion; I feel the same way…” he replied. Focusing his eyes into the distance he said, “It’s beautiful out there, isn’t it. Why don’t we go exploring out there tomorrow and while we are there, do some old fashioned hunting…”

I took a while to respond but eventually I said, “I would love that!” Why I said that I don’t know. I guess it was better than moping around and, who knows, we might hunt something delicious to eat?

This prompted me to ask, “What kind of game is out there? What can we hunt?”

He replied with several names which I did not recognize.

Eventually he said, “I will show you when we get back down.”

We both got off the rock hard seat that we were sitting on and lay down on the dry grass.

It was as if we were both inebriated, which prompted me to ask, “Do you have whisky, wine or beer here?”

He shook his head not understanding what I was asking.

I thought for a moment and said, “Rakia, do you have rakia here?”

He giggled like a little girl and said, “I understand what you are saying but those kinds of drinks are prohibited here. They were outlawed a long time ago. We used to buy them from the pirates illegally when I was young but they are not available here anymore. The government frowns upon those breaking the law.”

I then asked, “Would you drink that stuff if it was available?”

He replied with a resounding “Yes!”

“I will make some then!”

He was so surprised he opened his mouth wide and said, “You can do that?”

“Yes I can and I will!”

We lay there on the ground looking up for what seemed like hours and then I heard Vos say, “Shall we eat?”

“Yes!” I replied.

I was used to eating fast and could have eaten everything we had in a matter of a couple of minutes but I paced myself. When we were done we both had one thing in mind. Go back down and plan the hunt for the next day. I wondered what quarry we were going to hunt and with what kind of weapon.

“Shall we go back down and see what we can do for tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yes, let’s. You read my mind.”

We scurried down quickly and stopped by Vos’s tree. Sep ran past us and disappeared. Vos picked some more fruit and filled the plastic bags.

“For later!” he said and we went back to the room.

I sat on the same seat. Vos sat on the opposite side, fiddled with the little black block and a bird appeared over it slowly spinning.

“Here is the quarry we are going to hunt tomorrow. If not that then this… Or this...” he added while showing me holograms of the local birds.

They all looked alien to me, I had never seen them before.

He then enthusiastically said, “Let’s check out the weapons and see which one is the best for this type of hunt.”

I agreed.

We went back to his museum and started going through the arsenal.

I kept asking, “What is this and how does it work?” as I looked at each rifle separately. I finally came to understand that there were

two types of weapons; the energy weapons and the hot gas weapons. The energy weapons were useless for long distance on the surface of the planet because once the energy hit the atmosphere it would quickly fizzle out. The energy weapons were great for outer space but useless on the surface. We then began to look at the hot gas weapons that fired projectiles. But almost every single one was very powerful and designed to penetrate stone and thick metal, useless for hunting.

We were about to give up when Vos mentioned he had some more junk in a cabinet and insisted that we look at it too. After he flung the door open I began rummaging through the various barrels and surprise, surprise, I found an earth weapon, a 22 caliber rifle and beside it sat a box full of 500 shells. It looked very old but was beautifully made with the butt made of walnut. Beside it was an old cleaning kit with a rope, thin square cloths and a small can of oil.

I pulled the rifle out and yelled, “Look what I found?”

Vos looked at me with a puzzled look and said, “That piece of straw? What could you possibly do with that? Scratch the quarry?”

He was right. In power compared to the other rifles it was a toothpick among spears, but unless the critters here had super power I was confident we could bring them down easily. The 22 even had a scope and if it was set properly I could shoot a small coin from 50 metres.

“This is an earth weapon,” I explained. “I’ve used one just like it before and I assure you it will do the job and quietly.”

“I trust your judgment. And since you know how to use it you get to make the first kill. Then you can teach me how to use it. I am supposed to be an expert on weapons but I have never used one of those,” he added.

I smiled and said, “Thank you, I will be happy to show you…” I was going to say, “and I won’t disappoint you,” but I wasn’t that confident. Instead I said, “We should clean and test it before we go out.”

“Grab some shells and let’s go outside.”

I grabbed the cleaning kit and a row of shells and followed him.

We went past the front door to the gate. On the way Vos picked up a plank from the woodpile, I think it was hardwood, walked over to the far side, placed it against the fence, drew a circle on it with some black dirt and said, “Aim for the circle.”

“I need to inspect the rifle first,” I said.

He agreed.

I looked at it from end to end. There was no rust but it was covered with grease that had dried. I removed the mechanism with the firing pin and looked at it. It was clean. I smudged some oil on it and spread it thin with a small piece of cloth. I raised the barrel towards the sun and looked through it. It too was clean. I threaded the small piece of cloth through a slit on the end of the rope. Then I picked up the long piece of metal that looked like a brass bullet attached to the other end of the rope and slipped it into the back end of the barrel. I tilted the barrel down and let gravity pull the rope through the rifle barrel. I then pulled the rope from the front end allowing the oily cloth to pass right through to oil the inside of the barrel. I rubbed the oily cloth against the entire rifle surface and put the firing pin back. Vos kept watching me.

When I was done he asked, “Are you sure you have never been a soldier?”

I smiled.

I took 20 steps back, loaded the rifle with a single shell, released the safety, took aim and fired. “Crack!” Sep took off like a shot and hid inside.

Vos looked at me and asked, “Is that it?”

“That’s it; I told you it was quiet. Now let’s have a look if the aim was correct and what damage it did to the wood.”

We walked over to the board and Vos grabbed it.

“I’ll be damned!” he said. “Not only is the aim perfect but that little bullet penetrated the surface of this hardwood board!” He grabbed the rifle out of my hand and said, “I’ve changed my mind, I want to take a practice shot now. Show me how to load it and how to shoot.”

With much enthusiasm I said okay and showed him how to do it. He took a shot and came even closer to the centre of the circle than me. When he saw how well he had done he was like a child filled with joy.

“Let’s save our excitement for tomorrow,” I said.

He agreed.

“Before we retire I’d like to collect and crush some fruit so that it can ferment. Would you happen to have a bucket or something large I can put it in? Don’t worry I’ll pick the fruit from the ground.”

He thought for a moment and asked, “Does it need to be covered?”

“Yes so that flies don’t get in it.”

“I have the perfect thing for you.” He went inside and came back with what looked like a 20 litre, hard plastic bucket and a lid.

I thanked him, took the bucket to the big room with the fountain, washed it and the lid, and then took it outside. The ground under the tree was littered with soft, fermenting fruit dripping with juice. I made a motion with my hand and the little wasps took off. I picked the fruit, one, two or three at a time and put them inside the bucket, crushed them in my hand and dropped them to the bottom. It took me hours but I filled the bucket three quarters full. After watching me for a couple of minutes Vos was bored and went inside to, as he said, “play his favourite game”, which he promised to show me another time.

Before leaving he shook his head and said, “If this works it will be another miracle.”

I put the lid on the bucket, carried it inside and set it on the bench nearest to the fountain. I then went outside, found a dead branch, cleaned the loose bark with my pocket knife, brought it inside and stirred the crushed fruit. I put the lid on the bucket making sure it was not too tight so that it could breathe, placed a small rock on top to hold it in place and left. After that I went back outside to the tree where I was joined by Vos.

“Did you make it?” he asked and before I had a chance to answer he said. “You did a nice job cleaning up the rotting fruit, thank you.”

“I used the fermenting fruit for the brew and it should take about three weeks before the sugar in it turns to rakia (alcohol). We have to be patient.”

He again made a face, shook his head and laughed out loud at the mention of rakia. Why? I don’t know and I didn’t ask.

The yellow sun had not yet set but both of us seemed to be tired so I said goodnight and went to try my new bed indoors. I turned off the lights; I had finally found out how. I closed the door and sank into my bed. The room was very dark and quiet.

Hunt for the Akioson

I jumped off the bed when I heard a knock on the door. It was dark and I didn’t know where I was.

“It’s almost dawn and time to go hunting,” I heard a voice yell.

“I’ll be right out!” I heard myself say and then realized where I was. I was naked. This was the first night that I hadn’t slept with my clothes on. Doing up the buttons of my shirt took the longest for me in dressing, otherwise I was flying just like a soldier. I made sure I had my lighter and pocket knife in my shirt pocket and put my watch on. I don’t know why I carried my watch around but I did. It was useless here and I should have left it in Vos’s museum or something.

By the time I stepped out Vos was standing in front of my door with the pouches and the rifle over his shoulder. He was excited when I greeted him. He was wearing camouflage overalls and a camouflage hat.

“Do you have the bullets?” I asked.

He tapped his pants pocket and began to walk towards the door. He opened the door and there was Sep, glad to see us. Vos handed me the rifle and half a dozen bullets and then picked up his walking stick. He took the lead with Sep beside him and I followed three or four steps behind. The birds were still perched on top of the terrace. They were quiet but the moment they saw us they flew off and began to chirp “Who is there!” Vos smiled and looked happy. His birds were talking again.

Instead of going up the hill like before, Vos continued walking straight along the flat part of the valley where the houses and farms used to be. We walked in silence for what seemed to be a couple of kilometres. Vos stopped to catch his breath.

He lifted his walking stick, pointed to the left side and said, “See that brook up there? There is a water spring to the left of the brook

about halfway up. That’s where our water comes from. It used to be plentiful before the drought.”

I looked up and shook my head in approval. We resumed the walk. I looked behind us. The valley below and the facilities were already bathing in the first rays of the yellow sun.

We reached a grove of very tall trees. Vos stopped walking, turned around and said, “We have reached our hunting grounds. We now have to keep quiet as we go through and listen and look up for the Akioson. Get your rifle ready.”

I gave him the okay signal, put a bullet in the rifle, set the safety on and took the lead. About ten metres into the grove, I saw Vos point up to a tree on my right. I looked up but saw nothing. I then heard the shrill call of the bird. I spotted it. I very slowly raised the rifle and took aim. I lowered the safety making sure it didn’t click, checked my aim again and slowly pulled the trigger. The bang echoed in the grove and on the adjacent hill. And then “plop”. The bird was on the ground and Sep was all over it. He tried to drag it away but Vos caught up to him, raised his walking stick and Sep dropped it. I had never seen Vos move so fast.

But almost immediately he looked tired and unsure. Was he sorry for the kill?

He brought the bird back, looked down and said, “Thank you Mother Nature for providing us with this food. We shall use it to nourish ourselves and we will not be wasteful!” He then handed it to me and said, “Do your thing and let me know what you need from me,” and walked away.

“We can’t cook it here, we don’t have water. We’ll need to wash the meat and our hands. Besides, there is no dry wood here except for small dead trees but we have plenty in the facilities.”

Vos agreed and we started our trek back. I cut off the bird’s head and carried it upside down so that the blood could flow out of it.

When we arrived at the facilities we went into the room with the water fountain from the side door. We left Sep outside. Vos promised him he would bring him some meat later.

The first thing Vos noticed was how clean the bench surfaces were. “Great job!” he said.

After he looked around I asked, “Do you have another bucket like that one?”

Pointing to the bucket that was resting on the bench he said, “We have a lot of those but few lids.”

“I don’t need a lid, just a bucket.”

He was back in no time with a bucket in his hand.

I blocked the spouts on the fountain with the wooden plugs I had made earlier and waited for the shower to start running. Vos looked on with fascination. I placed the bird under the shower and looked at him.

He shook his head and said, “You never fail to amaze me. Fascinating! How in Mother Nature’s name did you ever figure out how to make the water come out of the shower? I mean making the shower work by plugging the fountain?”

“You would be surprised by what you can do when you have to survive,” I said and, so as not to sound mysterious, I added. “This trick I discovered purely by accident.”

When the bird was completely soaked I took the bucket and put it on the floor next to the bench. I took away the bucket of fermenting fruit from this bench and put it on top of the next bench. Vos motioned me to open it, he wanted to look inside. When I did the bucket was full to the lid.

“Did you add more fruit?” he asked.

“No,” I replied. “When the juice ferments gasses build up and push the skins and chunks up. It has already started to ferment.”

I then stirred it with the branch I had used the day before, put the lid back on top and placed the rock on top of the lid and said. “It needs to be stirred every day to submerge the fruit chunks; that’s where most of the sugar is.”

After that I went back to the shower, picked up the dripping bird by its legs and put it on top of the bench.

“Why did you have to wet it?” he asked.

“Ordinarily the bird should be soaked in boiling hot water but since we have none cold water will have to do. The water makes pulling the feathers easier. They also clump together and it’s less of a mess to pluck them,” I replied.

He accepted my explanation without commenting.

Vos stood opposite me on the other side of the bench and watched me pull feathers out and toss them into the bucket. I must have looked like a caveman, or maybe a barbarian. At least that’s how I felt. When I was done pulling feathers I cleaned the mess off the bench, washed the bird in the shower, brought it back and put it on top of the bench, washed my hands, took my pocket knife out and began to cut the bird’s guts open. I poked a hole closest to the bird’s breast on the underbelly, put my two fingers into it to push the innards away from the knife blade and proceeded to cut right down to the bird’s anus. I then scooped everything out with my hand and placed them on the table.

I knew this question was coming so I said, “You don’t want to cut the intestines or the gallbladder, especially the gallbladder, it’s really bitter.”

Vos shook his head with both admiration and disgust. I then separated the heart and liver from the rest of the innards and set them aside. I tossed everything else into the bucket. I carefully removed the gallbladder from the liver and tossed it into the bucket.

“My people have been far detached from this sort of thing and will never do this even if their lives depend on it,” said Vos.

I didn’t reply but I thought that Vos was probably talking about himself.

I took the bird and the innards, washed them under the shower and put them on a clean part of the bench. I then cut around the dead bird’s legs, snapped them to break them and then cut them off. I saw Vos flinch.

I put them on the table and said, “If you want, you can give these to Sep.”

He took them and was out of there like a flash. He waited for me outside. I left the bird and innards on the bench and went outside to decide how to cook it.

Vos saw me and said, “Sep loved the legs.” He paused for a moment and said, “What do you want me to do?” He sounded a bit distant.

I wasn’t sure if he still wanted to cook the bird so I said, “We have no other means of preparing the bird except to roast it in an open pit. Is that allowed and can we do that here?”

He hesitated for a moment. I was sure he was going to say let’s bury the damn thing and abandon this entire idea but instead he said, “By all means, let’s roast the bird…”

I shook my head in agreement.

I looked around and said, “We should make a pit right here in the centre of the yard. Clean all the leaves, grass and sticks and circle it with stones. Do you have a shovel?”

He didn’t know what a shovel was. I looked around and found a long piece of metal. I used it and scraped the soil clean in a circular shape about three metres in diameter. When I began to gather rocks for the pit, Vos joined me. Sep supervised us constantly looking at

Vos’s hands. Perhaps for another handout…? It took no time before we had our firepit built.

It was noon by now and Vos went inside to get us some food and water. He came out with the pouches we had taken with us hunting earlier in the morning. But there was nowhere to sit and eat. I had an idea. I asked Vos if he had any more of those buckets. He asked what for and I told him to make stools to sit on.

“Come with me and take your pouch with you because Sep will tear it apart to get to the food,” he said.

We walked about half the distance of the big room and there on the left side, behind a pile of junk, was a low door. I hadn’t noticed it before. It wasn’t locked. He opened it and it looked like a crawl space inside. It was dark but I could see the outline of the buckets. There were two sizes, regular like the ones I was using, and tall buckets about double the height. I pulled out two of each, one as a stool and the other as a table. Vos grabbed the tall ones and I grabbed the short ones. As we passed by the woodpile an idea hit me. We took the buckets outside and I came back to the woodpile. I pulled out a couple of hardwood planks about two metres long and about twenty five centimetres wide and took them outside. Using the two sets of buckets I placed a plank on each set and made a bench and a table. We set them next to the firepit.

We ate lunch without talking. Vos picked up the wrappers and jars and took them to the back room. I began to think about my next step; how to roast the bird.

When Vos came back I told him we needed a long stick to use as a rotisserie to turn the meat over the fire. He raised his finger and went back inside. In the meantime I went back to the woodpile and scrounged for short pieces of hardwood to burn. I found plenty and brought them outside. Then I looked for dry grass and brush. There was plenty of that in the yard.

Vos came back with his walking stick.

“Not your walking stick!” I said.

“I have plenty of these, this one was never used... Do you think it will do?” he asked.

I looked at it and said, “It’s perfect.”

I started the fire by lighting a bunch of dry grass with my lighter and then added brush and tiny sticks on top until the flames grew. Vos and I took turns adding larger and larger pieces of firewood until we had a bonfire.

As he sat there watching the flames dancing he said, “We should have done this at night. It would have been a wonderful sight to see in the dark.”

I went inside the room and took the bucket with the bird guts and feathers and brought it outside. “What should we do with this?”

Vos said we should bury it. I reminded him that we had no tools to dig a hole.

“You’re right, let’s burn it then.”

I looked at him and asked, “Have you ever smelled burning feathers?”

“No!” he said and added. “But I’m going to smell them now.”

I dumped the wet feathers and bird guts on top of the roaring flame. There was a loud hiss and black smoke puffed out. We both jumped out of the way to avoid the smoke and stench. Moments later the smoke disappeared but the stench lingered on for a while. We resumed adding wood to the fire.

“I think that’s enough wood,” I said. “When it fully burns there should be plenty of coals.”

We sat on the bench and watched the mesmerizing flames dance. The fire burned for hours. When the flames were out the pit was full of coals up to the top of the rock pile.

“It’s time to skewer the bird on the rotisserie,” I said.

We went inside. Vos brought the walking stick and held it firm. I picked up the bird and he forced the stick right through the bird from the back end and out the neck. He pushed the stick until the bird sat in the middle of it. He put it down gently on the bench. I then broke a piece of my stirring branch and skewered the liver and heart on it.

Vos backed away, put his hands behind his back, clamped them and began to walk towards the door. He gave me the impression that he didn’t want to touch the raw meat. I grabbed both skewers and followed him. He held the door open for me as we walked out.

“There are too many coals,” I said. “The meat will burn; we need to move some out of the way.”

He lifted his finger up signaling me to wait, went inside and grabbed the pipe, my pipe that was leaning against the wall. He came back and parted the coals in the pit.

“Perfect!” I said and put the stick with the bird over the fire, with the ends leaning on the stones of the pit, and began to turn it. I pointed the other stick towards Vos but he shook his hands wanting no part of it. I put the innards near the burning coals and rotated them. Both the bird and innards began to sizzle. About ten minutes later the liver and heart were cooked.

I pulled the innards out of the fire and placed them on our makeshift table. I looked at Vos.

He looked squeamish and must have regretted this moment because he said, “We have been evolving away from this sort of thing so it’s difficult to go back. Believe me I’m doing my best.”

I don’t know exactly what he meant by that. I’m assuming he meant his people gave up hunting and killing their food one thousand years ago. He then broke a bit off the liver, looked at it, closed his eyes and put it in his mouth.

He made a face and moments later said, “It actually tastes good.” He broke another piece off and gave it to me.

I ate it too and said, “It would have tasted even better if we had some salt.”

He didn’t say anything.

He tried to break a piece off the heart but found it difficult. The heart muscle is hard even when cooked. I gave him my pocket knife. He admired it for a moment and then cut the heart in half. He gave me half and began to chew the other half.

“This is a historic moment for me…” he said.

I looked at him and said, “Not for me. In the village where I come from we often hunted. That’s where I learned how to skin and gut the quarry, especially the kind that has a peculiar taste. I’ll have to tell you about it one of these days. Maybe the next time we go hunting.”

As we finished eating the rest of the liver I said, “The liver usually goes to the hunter who made the kill; it is the reward for their effort. The liver is the softest part of the animal and cooks the fastest.”

He didn’t say anything.

As I continued to turn the stick with the bird over the coals Vos inhaled deeply and said, “The meat smells nice, I bet it will taste even better than the innards.”

I looked at him, smiled and said, “The aroma is from the fat dripping and burning in the fire. Fat keeps the meat soft, makes it cook better and, in small quantities, tastes delicious.” I paused for a moment and said, “If only we had some beer or wine to drink to wash it down.”

He didn’t reply. Moments later he looked at me and said, “I don’t know what beer is but I have heard of wine. I’ve never tasted wine. All we have here is aikar (firewater) and that’s illegal, you would

have to get it on the black market far from here and it’s very expensive.”

I looked at him and said, “The stuff we are brewing back there in the big room will turn into wine. When it’s done you will get your chance to taste it.”

He shook his head. I didn’t know if he understood me.

We both sat on the makeshift bench watching the meat cook. Vos looked at me and asked, “How do you know when it’s done?”

“I usually poke the meat with my pocket knife, if red comes out it’s not done. When clear liquid comes out then I will take it out of the fire.”

He looked at me and said, “Show me.”

I poked the meat with my pocket knife and red liquid dripped out of the tiny hole.

About half an hour later I looked up and noticed the sun was about to set. It would soon be getting dark.

“Vos, it’s time to test the meat again,” I said.

“Let me do it.”

I gave him the knife and he stuck it into the bird’s breast. Clear liquid came out. There was a big smile on Vos’s face. I pulled the roast out of the fire and put it on our makeshift table.

“How do we do this?” he asked.

“First we’ll have to let the meat cool down and then, since we have no plates or utensils, we’ll cut small pieces and eat them with our fingers.”

“Like barbarians?” he asked and smiled.

“Like barbarians!”

On closer inspection I noticed the bird’s wings were burnt so I said: “The wings will go to Sep.”

Vos was happy about that.

By the time the meat had cooled down and I had cut the wings off with my small knife it was already dark. I had an idea.

“Vos, do you still want to have that bonfire?”

He looked at me. He looked both puzzled and happy. “Can we do that?” he asked.

“Yes, just toss some small pieces of wood over the coals and when they catch fire put large pieces on top.”

Vos picked up the wings and gave them to Sep. He then went to get some more wood from the woodpile. By the time he came back Sep had finished eating and was looking for more. I broke a leg off the bird and gave it to Vos. I took the other one. Vos was still squeamish but ate it. The firepit was in flames. When I finished eating the leg I tossed the bone to Sep. He caught it in the air, crunched it and ate it.

Vos did the same as well and said, “I’ve never seen Sep do that before.”

We sat there outdoors in the dark, staring at the dancing flames for hours. I had to stand up several times to stretch my legs. Vos seemed okay. Being indigenous to the planet’s gravity must have been more forgiving to him. I kept cutting into the bird and sharing it with Vos until there was no more to cut. It may have looked like a big bird but it didn’t have as much meat on it as I had thought.

I looked at Vos and said, “I think we ate it all.”

He looked relieved but didn’t say anything. I think we were both tired and had no desire to be witty or philosophical.

“Is it okay if I give the carcass to Sep?” I asked.

He nodded and then said, “Forgive me but I’m feeling a bit tired and am going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with those words he got up and left.

I tossed the remnants of the bird towards Sep. First he jumped and ran. He was startled. Then he ran back, grabbed the carcass, ran inside the big room and hid under the woodpile.