Tasting Hope

• Brenda Lo, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2017

“Everything that has been and will come to be…relies solely upon you. So you better not let us down.” The man narrowed his gaze, facing her sternly. “Don’t let me down.” He walked towards the exit, past the girl who stood frigidly still. His next word was a breeze against her ear.

“Priscilla.”

The metal door slid close with a thud.

It wasn’t easy having the fate of the world in your hands. Every hour, every minute, every second became so much more than just a measure of time. It became a lifeline. For with every breath a living creature took, every inhale and exhale of their body, came an invisible mass of energy that had to be cultivated and stored, to later be repressed or released. Leashing these masses of energy became Priscilla’s job; a laborious and time-consuming career. She couldn’t even remember the last time she could go out and have tacos. Her mentor’s stern voice sounded heavily in her mind.

“You don’t get to take breaks like a human.” The patronising tone was irritating. “And you certainly don’t get to live like one. We can’t afford to do anything other than our duty-“
She allowed his voice to become a muffled memory.
“-or risk the destruction of the world-”
Maybe if he didn’t keep repeating it, she wouldn’t have been so desperate to leave.
“-for the sake your own inhumane curiosity. The world’s kinetic balance is on the stake. Human souls will be the cost of your own ignorance.”
The genuine look of worry and compassion in his eyes had irritated her the most of all.

Slamming the mental image out of her head, she stalked to the exit and flung the steel door aside. Oh yes, she would do her duty. Harvest and distribute energy like a slave. But only after she reached her first destination. Priscilla would smuggle one small takeaway bag of tacos through the barrier that separated the human world and her own dimension if it was the last thing she did.

The rationale in her logical thoughts proved that it was possible to stop, and just breathe, without causing the destruction of the universe for failing to be active every living moment in time. Priscilla just had to let her mentor see that relaxing once in a while was worth it.

She was determined to bring the tacos home, to her insufferable mentor, and force him to inhale the irresistible scent of melted cheese mixed alluringly with Mexican spices, if he refused to at least taste it. Then surely he would understand. A satisfaction only sated by releasing one’s shackles; that their kind were not blindly chained to their reason of existence. That they were allowed to live, and not fear liberty, for the desire of freedom only encouraged greater motivation, and a greater level of productivity. A productivity that allowed breaks.

For the hopeful future they had yet to taste, she descended once again into the human world.