Our Botanist's journey is slowly coming to an end - will she be able to get seedlings and help a friendly village, or will the apocalypse once again cause all hope to be lost beneath the ruins of shattered cities?
BOTANIST OF HOPE III: SACRIFICE
The rooms we passed rivaled each other in the number of oddities inside. They ranged from rooms filled to the brim with broken, scratched and incomplete stuffed figures to rooms that hid specimens still holding up well, display cases, terrariums. The man showed me every nook and cranny, proudly adding that when he first entered the museum, it was impossible to see anything here other than a layer of useless junk.
''I spent a good month on it.''
''Why?''
''Why not? Everyone must have a purpose. Otherwise life will always be bland and unsatisfying. If it weren't for that, you'd now be stepping on furry rabbit feet that the wild dogs used to play with.''
I looked around me and then focused my attention on the specimens he had not yet managed to pick up from the ground.
''Well, you know what? Details. I'm doing very well anyway. You should see what a mess it was here before!''
The man walked with a light step, sometimes wobbling from side to side, as if to the rhythm of music. It's hard to find someone so full of energy in the village. People get up only to go to sleep again. And tick off another surviving day.
Everyone must have a purpose. But being born into a lost world, are you able to choose it yourself? We don't have the pleasure of quitting everything we've done so far and starting life anew. This is simply suicide. Being born in a village, you are given predetermined tasks that you will do once you grow up. So that the system works. So that every cog in the mechanism is functional. Did the apocalypse take away our free will as well?
Looking at my guide, the thought prevails that it is not the fault of the end of the world, but of fear. From others. Living away from the remnants of civilization, you don't have to fear the wrath of the leader, who can banish you at any time for the slightest mistake. With nothing to lose, you gain everything.
''The vault'' I whispered, trying to tear the man away from admiring copies of exotic butterflies. ''What do you know about it?''
The man sucked his teeth and waved his hand at me, shifting his attention to a large wooden box at the end of the corridor. This part of the museum seemed exceptionally well-kept, with even the walls retaining most of the plaster and wallpaper, adding some color to the overall look.
The last room made for his refuge - several field beds joined together by the very sight of them made my loins ache, crumpled clothes were strewn across the table and floor, and a small battery-operated lamp gave off a pleasant orange glow.
''Sit down'' he pointed to a shabby armchair in the corner. '' Make yourself at home.
''I'd rather not'' I chuckled dryly, melting into the soft cushion of the seat.
He opened the lock of the box, then pulled out a cloth-wrapped can. He pressed it into my hands, smiling broadly.
''Try it. You won't regret it.''
He took a seat across from me.
''I want you to know one thing. This world doesn't need a hero. It doesn't need to be saved.''
''If so, then what does it lack?''
The man settled deeper in the chair, stretching blissfully.
''A mother. Patience. Education. People are like wild animals now. They need to be taught how to live. You will give them everything they need, but they will have no idea what to do with it. How to respect it.''
The hiss of a can being opened sounded in the room. I swallowed the liquid greedily, almost choking. Admittedly, the sweet drink was no longer carbonated and tasted of a huge amount of chemicals, but it soothed my thirst.
''What an irony. In the old days, I avoided such drinks by a wide margin, because unnecessary calories and sugar could disrupt my work on my figure. Before that, I had ambitions, dreams, desires. And now I would sell my left arm for a glass of fresh, cold cola''
I wiped my face with a scrap of torn material from my wrist. And I need new clothes again. Crossing ruins always takes something away from me.
''Tell me, beautiful. Why are you the only one looking for the crypt? Why aren't there any young, slim scouts with you? Warriors?''
''Maybe others don't have so much strength.''
''Maybe you're the only one ready for change. Others prefer to be stuck in this misery. So I'll answer the question you haven't asked yet: No, I won't let you go inside. These seeds are too important to give away to just anyone.''
"To just anyone" echoed in my head, clawed its way into my memory and nestled snugly inside. I didn't know I still had room for new worries.
''So you'll guard them like this until you kick the bucket?''
''Bingo. The question is: How far will you go to get them?''
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