‘One may, er, see it like that,’ Margaret said uneasily. ‘But for the moment, I’m interested in your story. What part did you play in the history of your civilisation?’
The General humoured her and continued.
‘The empire of T’Kalanjathu was ruled in part by a tribunal of wise men and women. The tribunal actually held the majority of the power of government. However, a small part of the power was also held by the royal family, with the power passing down through the female line – yes, Dr Green, we were a matriarchal society. If, however, no female heir was born, the firstborn male would inherit power, and pass it on to his firstborn daughter.’ The General paused here and beamed an eerie smile at Margaret before continuing. ‘I am the very last surviving member of the royal family of the T’Kala people. I am the last prince of T’Kalanjathu.’
What he’s telling me sounds so absolutely inconceivable, so outlandish, but for some reason, I just can’t simply pass it off as the ramblings of a schizophrenic; he’s far too lucid and consistent. Part of me seems, despite all odds and reason, to actually be believing this. He must be – if this could somehow be true – well he must be thousands of years old! That’s insane though, seriously, it’s preposterous to imagine! I mean, I think I remember reading of certain trees and plants still alive today that are most certainly thousands of years old, but those are plants! They don’t metabolise and grow and expend energy in even remotely the same manner as mammals. But somehow the possibility is there, as crazy as it seems. If a tree can live for thousands of years, why can’t another organism?
‘I’m … I’m sorry to hear that you’re, er, that you’re the last um, survivor, of your people. May I ask how this all came to be? I mean, it’s not, er, well, um, it’s—’
‘It’s not every day that you meet a living, breathing historical relic of the ancient world,’ the General said, completing her sentence for her with a wry smile. ‘And I imagine that what I’m telling you is quite overwhelming. After all, it flies in the face of everything you believe to be the “truth” about the nature of existence. I imagine that you must think that I’m insane, that surely what I’m telling you cannot possibly be the truth. I understand that completely. Were I in your shoes, I imagine I’d feel exactly the same.
However, I feel that I need to remind you that we are not here to discuss the story of my life. Should you wish to learn more, we will have plenty of time to chat about such things in private. As for the others here, they have known me for some time and are already very familiar with my story, so I do not wish to bore them with a further retelling of it. Ah! And here comes the perfect excuse to put the conversation on ice for a while: dinner!’
At that moment a number of teenage soldiers marched into the room, bearing platters of food. One of them was Tesla, the boy who had spoken to Margaret earlier, and he flashed her a surreptitious smile before saluting the General.
‘At ease, troops,’ he said to them in a gentle tone. ‘Please, young ones, serve these blessed offerings of the land to our guests.’
The teen soldiers hurried about the table, setting platters of food here and there and filling up stone cups of water for each of the guests. Margaret surveyed the cornucopia of food spread out before her. Almost all of the dishes seemed completely alien to her, although for what it was worth, they did look and smell appetising enough.
‘You do not recognise most of the items on offer here, do you?’ the General asked. He chuckled sympathetically as Margaret shook her head. ‘Not to worry. I can assure you that everything here is both wholesome and nutritious. All of this food has been made from things that we grow in and around the city, in harmony with the forest, or from fruits, nuts, legumes, tubers and seeds harvested from the jungle itself. The forests nourished my people for centuries – before, towards the end of our empire’s days, we fell into foreign-influenced habits of excess and began to enslave, breed and slaughter animals, and hack down and burn the very thing that had enabled our civilisation to grow and flourish. Now, in the days of New T’Kalanjathu, I have made a return to the old ways of the T’Kala, to the time before we became corrupted by greed and excess, to the period before we allowed ourselves to become slaves to the sensory pleasures and addictions that would eventually destroy us.
Feast on what the earth has provided for us, Dr Green! These tastes and textures may seem strange and new to you, but I guarantee you that once you have acquired a taste for them, you will never again wish to partake of the destructive nightmare of violence, exploitation and wastage that forms the majority of the Western – and indeed global – human diet.’
Margaret reached over to the nearest platter and stared for a while at something that looked like a green sweet potato. She picked out the smallest of the
