DATE: July 15, 2001 CAST: Basil and Walter Strawberry Plantation A wide expanse of dark brown soil greets your eye, interrupted by the frequent presence of bright red, tempting strawberries--an extremely valuable commodity. Although no humans dwell nearby, the strawberries look well-cared for; there are no weeds, the earth is slightly damp, and the blossoms have been trimmed away.    The explanation becomes evident when you notice several ants laboring in the area. They are unusually thin, their expressions vacant, and their motions mechanical. Their work is harshly surveyed by larger insects, each one clutching a barbed lash.    Further off in the distance is the shape of an old coke bottle, caked with grime and dust. Closer to the strawberries themselves is another structure made from a bizarre variety of bark, mud, and stone. The day is still young, and the ants are already pushing through their work, some even starting to lag. While some ants are occupied with transporting the strawberries themselves, others have been assigned to digging up weeds and cutting off the blossoms to encourage the growth of the edible pulp. Walter currently has the job of 'picking flowers,' which isn't as cushy as it sounds. Upon tearing out one of those things with all his might and tossing it aside, he glances at his hands, noting how raw they are. Basil has been working on hauling berries since before the crack of dawn. Most of the pain of his former injuries have passed, but some still show as a reminder of his adventures here. He's feeling the pain in the back and other muscles that are accustom to in a newcomer of this job, however, and a bead of perspiration rest on the edge of his forehead, threatening to run into his eye, causing a slight stinging sensation as it has so many times before, but with the pains of severe work, and little food lately, he hardly acknowledges it. Just standing there, watching the ants with a bored gaze is the grasshopper taskmaster, Quill. He leans much of his weight on one leg, lower arms folded while his upper left arm idly flicks a thorned lash. Boring. Watching these ants work is boring when no one acts up. Absolutely nothing to do. Or is there? His eyes reflect the sun like chips of ice as he gazes at a small female ant from afar. The female ant who has suddenly found herself under the watchful eye, gives an alarmed expression, wondering if anyone saw that little incident that happened earlier. It was just a simple mistake, and didn't think anyone had seen what she did, but the expression from him only causes more anxiety than she can shake. 'I hope he's looking at someone else that way,' She panics from within. Walter doesn't notice Quill's gaze, since he tries to ignore the big guy for the most part. Really, after that beating he took a few weeks ago, he's afraid to look that grasshopper in the eye. So long as he doesn't approach Walter, that's just fine with him. He continues his work, namely rubbing his palms raw by yanking out flowers by the roots. After setting the latest haul to the ground, Basil walks stoically back to the next berry before him. It seems like such a monotonous life. He's used to having some kind of action, but after getting better, there has only been this. His mind drifts back to life in the colony, but then admonishes himself for such foolish dreams. This is most likely where he will stay for quite some time, since he and Walter have not even the slightest chance of escape, the idea seems to becoming a fantasy. Basil doesn't notice Quill's expression either. And Quill does not notice those two ants either. All he sees, for the time being, is that one female ant his eyes have narrowed in on. For whatever reason, he decides to make this his next victim. Flicking his lash, he stalks over to the ant, glacial blue eyes narrowing. "You. Ant." Does he know the girl's name? Probably not. Even if he did, he wouldn't use it. Slaves, apparently, don't deserve such a privilege. Opal, is her name, as if that meant anything anymore. But then it's not the thing foremost on her mind, either as she sees Quill quickly approach her, causing her to swallow and shake tremendously. She comes to a dead stop, and looks up at him meekly as she is addressed. "What is it, master? she asks weakly, not daring to venture any ideas to him, but is almost certain she knows why he is here. Walter pants as he fishes out yet another of those cursed blossoms... his hands are going to sting for quite awhile. Yes. That isn't fun at all. But then nothing about being a slave on a strawberry plantation is fun. He moves to grab another one, then freezes as he notices Quill moving towards him -- past him (whew) -- toward another ant. He watches the grasshopper discreetly from the corner of his eye. Basil starts to help lift the next strawberry, which will require three other ants to move it, and notices the action within his view. He sees Quill walk toward and away from Walter, and then advance to Opal, which causes to obtain his attention, then a feeling of panic ensues within him. He was a witness to the minor incident that morning, but told her not to worry about it, that no one could possibly would know. But did they? He told her not to say anything, but now realizes that may have been a mistake. He shifts his weight, and his eyes widen, as his anxiety builds. Quill glares icily at the ant, Opal -- whose name he doesn't know, or just won't say. A slave she is. An ant. That is all. And perhaps a way to relieve boredom. "You know the rules about transporting strawberries. No gouging them. We saw one with a big slice in it, and I know it was you." Does he? No, not really. But at least he can find a scapegoat. Opal is under so much panic, she can hardly speak. In a rush of anxiety, she blurts out "I'm so very sorry, it was an accident, I didn't mean for it to happen, it just... " Oh man, is she in worse than she realized. Not only was she not accused of what she thought she did. But has now given him a real reason to be angry with him. She drops her eyes to the ground, not knowing what to expect, except the worst. Oh, great. Another public display of a taskmaster getting his jollies out of abusing an ant over some trivial thing. Walter feels his stomach lurch as he looks away, trying to recalibrate his attention on his assignment: pick flowers. Don't get involved. Save your own neck. Basil is torn between helping her and not getting involved. He feels responsible in part for not having her report the incident, but then she wasn't in trouble for that anyway. He considers dropping the berry, but sees little reason to intervene, yet. As the berry is carried on, he hears her mistake, and winces severely. 'Oh, she's going to get it bad, especially for not informing them of the spilled water.' "Now we can't sell it. We've lost profit on that one strawberry, thanks to you, slave," Quill says, forbiddingly. He raises his lash as if to strike Opal across the face with it, then pauses. "No... that's too good for the likes of you." He straightens. "No food for the next three days. And during that time, you will clear rocks out of that location." He points at a pile of rather large stones nearby, which were supposed to be cleared out ages ago to make room for new shrubs. Opal realizes that she isn't accused of spilling the water, and decides to defend herself. "I had nothing to do with the strawberry, master." Then she realizes that it would have been better to just accept sentence, since she's given away that she has indeed made a error of judgement. But it is too late now, as she's made a bigger mess of this situation with every second that passes. Ack. This is not going to be good, Walter knows. Never contradict your master. Closing his eyes and shaking his head, he tries to distract himself from the situation by tugging at yet another flower -- only succeeding in decapitating it. Basil shakes his head at the mistake made by Opal now, but can't help her, it was her own mistake in reporting her error in such a fast paced manner. But then he has an idea of how badly she might be treated. He drops the berry in the pile, and as he heads back, his pace lingers slightly as his attention is now fully on the scene before him. It still makes him feel ill that he had anything to do with it, and wants more than anything to help. What a quandary. "Don't lie to me!" Quill roars, snapping his lash at Opal. The interesting thing about this whip is that it doesn't need to scratch deeply in order to elicit an excruciating response. Rumor has it that Quill saturates the thorns with some substance to make stings even worse. "And get to work NOW!" A sudden squeal of pain is elicited from Opal as she is struck with the whip, and finds herself reeling backward and to the ground in excruciating pain. She passes a glance, and as she does, her eyes rest momentarily at Basil, in an expression of 'don't get involved'. She knew she made a mistake and will accept her actions. She arises slowly and turns to head over to her work. Uh oh. That crack and squeal of response did not sound good. Walter shoots a quick glance over his shoulder, and quickly deduces what just happened back there. Heaving a sigh, he pretends to ignore it. Not that he doesn't *want* to help... but he knows he can't. At least not without putting his own life on the line. And there's the generally accepted rule among the slaves, too, memorized by heart: 'Don't get involved.' Perhaps it's because he hasn't been here very long, that he seems to have forgotten to not get involved, but it's different reason that he does. He didn't help Amber back home, and it cost him plenty, but the guilt was more than he could bear. He gets involved, no matter how crazy with guilt he is. "Stop hitting her!" He calls out, louder than intended. "I've been hauling strawberries all morning, and none of them were cut!" Basil is in such a head rush, he doesn't even realize how badly he's put life into jeopardy. Quill grows rigid, pivoting ominously in order to face the ant that dared to tell him what to do. Oohh... so one of the lowly slaves decides to get smart, eh? Attention now totally steered away from Opal, the massive grasshopper takes several slow, looming steps toward the newbie slave. "What did you say?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous as his light blue eyes bore into Basil's visual orbs. Opal merely steps aside, with her mouth agape, and a hand held over it. She shakes her head ominously, and can only imagine what the retaliation could be. "Oh, Basil..." Is all she can gasp out, as her breath is caught, and she begins to feel dizzy. Walter freezes, yet again, mouth flung open as he turns to stare at Basil. Dear lord, what can he be thinking? Sure, it isn't fair that Quill did what he did to Opal, but... "Darn it," he whispers, barely audible for himself to hear. "When is he ever going to learn?" Looks like right now is about when he's going to learn. Basil's mind whirls as he now fully realizes the pure idiocy of his mistake, and chooses not to utter another sound. His eyes widen considerably as the grasshopper looms before him. It wouldn't make any difference even if Basil had the intent on replying, for his panic has risen to the point of absolute silence. So the ant has nothing to say. Good. Maybe there's hope for this one after all, Quill decides. If the slave survives what he has in store for him. "All right, ant," he says, each word generously laced with disdain, "Since you're always so concerned about your fellow slave, why don't *you* take her punishment this time?" He folds his lower arms, glaring down at Basil menacingly as he grasps the whip, which seems to twitch in anticipation of biting into another ant's exoskeleton. Opal simply looks on with a numb expression, but says nothing, nothing at all. She's been here too long to make the mistake of saying anything. As cold as that would be in a civilized situation, she knows of the additional suffering that would be caused by her simply uttering a word would be inflictedupon the ant before her. She feels immense remorse, but knows how much of a favor she's doing for Basil by doing nothing. Well, this should be lovely. Walter has now forgotten about pretending to work, as have one or two other ants in the area. This scene is just too tense to overlook. Fortunately, Quill sees them not. Basil is his focus for now. Basil simply stares in fear, unable to move. He can't think clearly again, and it would seem that no matter how much he wants to get going, he can't. He simply stands there, unable to move. Eyeing the whip in Quills hand doesn't help matters any, but still he stands petrified with fear. Silence hangs there like an atmosphere, and Quill permits it to linger for several seconds as he regards the ant before him with a glare of frozen heat. Then the grasshopper decides to end it. Crack! The whip flashes at Basil, aiming to nip at his exoskeleton. "Get to work on those rocks, you pitiful excuse for an insect!" Opal hears the snap of the whip and the insult emanates from Quill. She winces as she anticipates what harm the grasshopper intends on inflicting on Basil. She also knows how awful of a punishment he's been given, since she's seen more than one ant nearly lose their lives in performing such a horrible job. She doesn't know how Basil will come out when and if he is done. Walter just stares, shoulders jerking slightly as if the whip had been slashed across him instead. In fact he still remembers his own recent beating; although the scars are healing up pretty well, a ghost of the former pain still lingers. He's just fortunate Quill used a twig, instead of the thorned lash doused in some burning fluid as he used on Opal and now Basil. /He'll be lucky if he doesn't get himself killed.../, Walter decides, frowning and biting back a groan. Basil feels the sharp stinging pain of the whip as it strikes his thorax mid way. The pain is not unlike an unquenchable fire. A very loud scream emanates from him as he recoils in pain. His hands instinctively clutch his mid section, and he feels a warm wet fluid begin to roll down his hand and chest. He takes his hand away and sees a gash made into him and watches the blood roll down a little. Basil winces again, but this time manages to find a way to move toward where the rocks are located. Basil seems to be more concerned for his wellbeing than most since he's noticeably thinner from the lack of food to begin with. Without food for three days, his health most likely will be adversely affected. Satisfied with the agonized response extracted from the ant, Quill leans his weight on his right foot again in an almost careless fashion as he watches Basil head for the rocks. Well. That should help relieve boredom, at least for this grasshopper. His gaze slides left and right, perceiving that a few ants are standing idle, watching the scene with blank expressions bordering on horror. "Back to work!" he barks. Opal does as told, but takes a long sad look as Basil makes his way to the oick pile. She shakes her head morosely and then turns and heads to the next strawberry to be picked. However, before she grabs the large red object, her eyes moisten a little, beginning to worry to the point of nausea that the unfortunate victim, who made such an effort to deliver her from a horrible fate, won't be able to survive the ordeal. Almost jumping in startlement, Walter heeds the order immediately and returns to what he was originally doing, though with a much less concerted effort than before. His motions are mechanical, and his eyes don't even take their current surroundings in. Instead his mind is filled with visions of what might well happen to Basil by the time he's finished -- probably dead, or close to it. His mouth settles into a tight frown. He's seen far too much death and suffering, and will continue to see it unless there's some means of escape... a prospect which looks pretty hopeless right now. Basil makes his way to the rocks and begins to move them one at a time. Between the heat of the day, and the newly inquired injuries slow his progression. He occasionally looks onward, taking in the whole breath of the job, it seems almost too big a job to be done in the time allotted. He wipes the beads of perspiration off of his forehead, and feels others cascade down his back and chest. The later inflaming his laceration on his mid section as the sweat penetrates it. As the heat of the day wears on, he feels his strength beginning to slowly dissipate. [END LOG] Next Log Trojan Strawberries Return to: Muted Identity logs.

Home / Updates / Writings /Logs / Characters / About Me / Email / Links / Stuff

All references made are copyright of each of their respective owners. All other's are copyright me! 2001-2003 This page created for entertainment purposes only.