Skyward - (NaNoWriMo 2013 Novel)

Fruit of the Tree of... (Nov 13, Wednesday)

The tree. The Fruit.

Benedict's first reaction when he saw it was wonder.

The thing looked like a dream: all molted red an gold with flecks of green, hanging so perfectly in the space beneath the ragged thatch of branches and leaves above like something that had been placed there--a prop--by a snake that was also a man, perhaps, and not like something that had been grown there by whatever vestige of mother nature was able to hang on in this burn-out, dead building. The apple sat perfectly in the splay of new dawn light-that as well seeming like a conveniently-timed special effect.

His second reaction was revulsion.

The Medicorps had, apparently done their jobs. That which was organic was Wild. Only approved biological strains were allowed into the 'Dos as anything else could be a vector for a pathogen. Even though he wasn't sure he believed it--indeed, spent most of his days lost in fantasies about being back out amongst the trees and nature--he couldn't shake that with which he'd been innoculated: that unsupervised growth was dangerous; was liable to at the very least make you sick, if not actually make you dead.

Benedict pulled up short of the tree, suddenly seeing it as a coiled viper: a trap waiting to be sprung. His mind started to race, contemplating whether this could be some clever pitfall placed by the PeaceCorp to thin the packs of skypirates slightly.

The boy, for his part, reacted only with wonder. He knew nothing of revulsion at natural growth, or at least if he did it was a knowledge that didn't extend beyond the purely academic. The years of biofear propaganda had yet to successfully worm their way into his subconscious, into the feeling, instinctual part of him.

He flew to the apple hanging on the low branch of the tree like an arrow. Before Benedict could breathe "wait. no.", Jakob had sank his teeth into the apple, holding it in both hands in a way that Benedict found odd. That's no way to eat an apple.

Except, of course, Jakob had never seen anyone eat an apple before. The closest he'd been to the concept of apple was the so-named Nutrient mash that he was served, and the synthetic approximation of it's apple-y flavour was so far from the mark that to so name it served more of a nostalgic purpose than it did act as an index for what it actually tasted like.

Apple in Jakob's mind was a perfect Form, completely divorced from a real Mean. He would have seen pictures in medifeeds of perfect apples, studying their biology and nutrient yields in the aimless educational programs that all civilians were required to attend. This actual apple, hanging before him, was probably more dream than reality, and-like any smart boy should-when he saw a dream that couldn't be possible, he took it.

Benedict wished for youth, then. For freedom from his burdens, and for the uninhibbited urge to take an apple honestly given.

Jakob was half way through it before he finally seemed to remember that there was someone else in the room with him. He looked up at Benedict from the prize clutched protectively in his hands, and managed to mouth "it's good!" around the load of apple he hadn't yet swallowed. Something occured to Jakob, and his face fell as if he'd been caught in something unlawful. Still with his mouth full, he held the half-eaten apple up towards Benedict, and asked, his mouth still full, his eyebrows arched in concern "you want some?".

Benedict hesitated, and something odd must have come over his face for Jakob's eyes grew wide, and he spat out the half-chewed apple, taking the extra step of reaching his fingers into his mouth to sweep out anything that remained on his tongue. His eyes came back to Benedict's.

"It's not bad, is it? Do you think it's bad? Poison or something? Is it going to make me sick?" The boy'd face was animated by worry, but he still clutched the other half of the apple in his hand, not going so far as to cast it away.