Garden of the Hungry

Never forget

The room was quite large and gave off an odor of old cedar. The sloping floor had forty-eight tables distributed equally through steps and, on the walls, posters indicated student events and exam calendars.

Sitting on opposite sides of the room, there were only a boy and a girl, both teens. They seemed bored with the content presented by the teacher, gesticulating in front of the slide show.

The educator was around thirty years of age. He had a neatly trimmed dark hair, as well as a great beard touching his chest. He wore a pair of glasses, which gave him a respectable look, and a beige linen shirt two numbers above his actual size.

"Seismic waves are caused by collisions between tectonic plates that release energy in the earth's crust," he explained just before the girl put on headphones and left the place, her head hanging low. "And... the vast majority of shakes occur in border areas between plates or rocks. However, in recent months, unexplained disasters have occurred in inexplicable areas we thought were safe until now," he changed the slide to an image of the planisphere. "See that the lithosphere is fragmenting rapidly in an uncontrolled manner. We can be here now and, in two minutes, it could all be gone."

The only student who remained in the audience gathered his materials, stood up timidly and said:

"Professor Ray," he cleared his throat, "you know I love your classes and have always been very diligent, but... I'd better go home and be with my grandmother."

"Alright," visibly disappointed, he turned off the projector.

"Sir, the world could end any time now, so it doesn't make much sense to prepare for a final that may not even happen."

The sullen man cleaned the glasses on his shirt shot back:

"In my view, people should feel more comfortable understanding the cause and the circumstances in which they will die," he put his stuff down on the table. "That's what I was trying to do here." He gave an embarrassed smile to the empty tables.

After timid steps and already in front of the exit door, the young man directed his speech to the master again:

"Professor, I think it makes more sense to be with those you love when the time comes. And my grandmother loves playing Counter Strike with me, you know?" He hesitated for a while. "I don't want to sound nosy, but is there no Mrs. Ray waiting for you at home, or a friend?"

The man flushed, searching for the right words, and replied:

"Well... I had a bull terrier... named Sagan..." The teacher was thoughtful. "But it escaped a few minutes before the first tremor in our area and never came back."

"I'm so sorry. You should check out this cozy little pub by the end of the avenue by the railroad. There you should find someone to share some of your time with," and he left, leaving the man alone, submerged in his own questions.

*

"The grass was greener, the light was brighter, with friends surrounded, the nights of wonder", sang a plaintive voice in the small speakers hanging from the ceiling of the bar, when the teacher entered the pub.

The place had a retro aspect. The architecture and decoration reminded the period of World War II, with exquisite miniatures of biplane fighters, heavy bombers, as well as beautiful and voluptuous pin-ups illustrating the walls end to end.

He sat at the counter and asked for a sparkling mineral water. He turned on the wooden seat, unassuming, and counted only six people in the establishment, including the evil-looking bartender.

Among those discouraged beings with whom he shared the black light room, he noticed a beautiful girl with dark Chanel hair, who gazed at him almost without blinking. Sitting below the iconic image of the astronaut girl riding a rocket, she held her static expression during those moments where the music seemed to be the only living thing in the room.