The Chalice

[Audeamus]

The Chalice
I am a humanitarian of a kind. In this age, when the two million survivors of the human
race are battling extinction, I am a writer. I might add that writing is only my passion. My father
has finally retired and passed down his modestly large water-synthesis and production unit.
Therefore it wouldn't be an over statement to say that I was pretty much established and
settled. At least I don't have to pay for my water, (water prices have been escalating
exponentially lately). Above all, I am at peace with myself.
Well, my “humanitarian” writing habit is something which has developed over the years.
As a child, my grandpa had a huge influence on me. He was one of those lucky people who
had the fortune of spending the initial years of their lives in the erstwhile planet called Earth.
That was before they began their journey on the Ark in the 'Age of the Apocalypse'. To the
people who are unaware of the history, the 'Ark' was the colossal space-ship which was built
to take the survivors of the human race away from the dying planet to the then newly
discovered planet, Utopia. My great-grandfather was a man of literature. Due to that man's
effort, a number of specimens of ancient literature survive to this day. I was slowly and
steadily enticed in to the magical world of literature, by listening to excerpts from my Grandpa.
That became the basic source of motivation and matter for the author in me.
****************
“Did you see the news today?”
Benny was pretty excited about whatever this news was. Those expressive eyes were
wide open with an expression which I could not accurately decipher. I couldn't decide whether
it was sheer excitement or just pride over some inscrutable information.
Benjamin Barnwell was the official 'gossip - monger' of our neighbourhood. Our
evenings were often graced by his dynamic (and to some extent, febrile) presence. As long as
he had a good supply of hot tea, he would stroke his handlebar moustache in satisfaction and
enlighten us with numerous peculiar tales.
“And what is this news, may I ask?”
Our eyes simultaneously turned towards the speaker, who was nonchalantly knitting in
one corner of the room. Ironically, Meg seemed least interested among the four of us,
whatever the news was. Her laconic demeanor was certainly not churlish, yet she mildly
disapproved of our unproductive gossip. Quite accustomed to Benny's ways, as she was, her
question was less heartfelt curiosity and more sarcasm.
If Benny was displeased by the quip, he did well to conceal it.
“Gentlemen! Humanity is about to witness a historic event. Have you observed the sky
lately?”
The eloquent pause which followed the question was most certainly meant to create
suspense.
“The fleecy formation that are forming in the sky lately are being said to be clouds of
gases. Meteorologists claim that they carry a good amount of moisture as well !” Benny
pointed excitedly towards me with his chubby fingers.
“Remember what Sam's grandpa used to say?”
My grandpa used to say a lot of things. I was not sure what Benny was aiming at.
“If you are saying that they're rain clouds, I might just remind you that it doesn't rain
here in Utopia; it never has.”
“But what if does ?”
I never knew Reginald Cusack was an optimist. I couldn't help but smile.
“Reggie it's impossible. Water sources in Utopia are subterranean.” My authoritarian
statement would have brought the conversation to an end on any other day. But nothing
seemed to dampen Benny's animated exuberance.
“Well Samir, Mr. Cusack just might be right. New Kansas meteorological Department
has given into statement on the issue.“ He spread out his arms : “The first rainfall in the
recorded history of Utopia.”
************
That night when my friends retreated back to their homes, I was still unconvinced. Yet if
it happened, it would be one of the most remarkable occurrences in the history of the planet.
Next morning , the newspaper said it all :
“32nd August, N108,
.... NKMD seconded the speculations about the rain clouds in Area 27 of New Kansas. Dr.
Mackenzie, a meteorologist, said in his statement : 'The gas formations about the Area 27
region most certainly contain a good amount of water vapour ....... precipitation in the form of
non-acidic water can well be expected over the said area on the evening of 34th August.........”
During the day, I couldn't concentrate on the plot of a detective novel I had been
working on; the plot which had been quite jocularly dismissed by Meg Quince, just a week
ago, during one of her more cynical dispositions.
'And I was cursing my luck.' I mused, realising what fate had brought upon me. I was
about to witness the first rain in the history of Utopia. And I had to do nothing more than step
out of my house for that.
I have often been told by my Dad, that I'm good with celebrations. I've to concur to him
in this regard as I indeed have the most peculiar ways of celebrating the little things. But this
was something big. And I knew exactly what to do.
“Use it well, Samir,” Grandpa had told me when he gifted me his chalice made of a rare
metal called gold, on my fifth birthday. The chalice was one of the most prized possessions of
his. I still remember how he used to beam at it and stroke the shiny metal during his leisure in
the most affectionate way.
Now, when I look at the chalice, I presume it had some grand history connected to it
and yet I cannot fathom how it came to be in my Grandpa's possession. I never really got a
chance to ask Grandpa. My Dad says that he had seen it with him all his life. I imagine the
chalice to be the last remaining legacy of some long forgotten prince; a symbol of grandeur
battling oblivion. The foreign inscriptions on the edges, the tiny cavities which were once
occupied by precious gems, the numerous scratches on the metal indicating ages of wear
and tear, all of it suggested the fact that it was made in different era in a far away place. The
metal gold is not found anywhere in Utopia. This rare golden chalice was indeed handed
down by my great-grandfather to my Grandpa.
I unlocked my safe and procured the crimson cloth-bag. I took out the content of the
bag and felt the cold metal in my palm. I stared down at the ancient artefact. My Mum was
quite amused as she comprehended my thoughts. The newspaper she was reading couldn't
hide her smile.
'What could be a better relic than an ancient chalice containing the waters of the first
rainfall in the recorded Utopian history?' I could think of no better way of celebrating.
************
The morning the 34th was perhaps the most unprecedented morning for the people of
Area 27. The fleecy clouds had taken the form of a vast dense formation which was becoming
denser as the hours passed. The giant, crimson morning star whose bright incandescent halo
was so familiar to us, was nowhere to be seen today.
The average radius of Area 27, New Kansas was about 7 miles. Today this place
seemed to be the centre of the world. News personnel from several news agencies were
scattered all over the place to capture moments of the bizarre event. There was huge, manic
crowds of apprehensive people everywhere. Work for me today was completely out of
question. I was man on a mission, rather determined man I daresay.
My chain of thoughts were interrupted by a knock on my door. I was not in the
disposition of entertaining guests and certainly not now when I had it all planned out.
I opened my door to find a feeble looking boy at my doorstep. Hair all shuffled up,
pretty shabby clothes, not more than ten years old I thought. The little boy wanted some food.
This wasn't an uncommon occurrence. It indeed was a tough time for survival of humanity.
Morally, I considered myself to be very strong. And if not anything else, I would take
every step necessary to preserve the humanitarian image I had set for myself.
“Wait there, would you?”
I went to the kitchen to find something. I found some tinned proteinated flakes. I opened the
can and headed for the door.
Perhaps it was my instinct or it was by sheer luck that I chanced to look at my study.
My hands went numb, when I did. The chalice was gone. Almost instantly, I saw the faded
gold peeping out from under the little boy's tattered shirt. The tin fell off my hand with a dull
thud.
“Thief !”
The startled boy turned and ran as fast as he could. For the next few moments, I had
completely lost control of myself. I dashed behind the boy wildly through the street. The boy
was about ten yards ahead of me, the chalice clasped firmly in his hand.
He turned left towards Rodriguez's eatery and then went straight on. I could not hope
to outrun the brat. It was either due to fear or his sheer desperation to escape, the boy was
quicker than his puny physique suggested.
My heart was pounding hard. I knew that the street would end after the next turn.
Adjacent to the nursery at Mr. Shizhou's, there is a barbed wall, about twenty feet high; most
certainly a dead end.
One can imagine my despair, when I saw the boy jump off the top of the barbed wall.
Torn between practicality and emotional turmoil, I wasn't ready to give up as yet. I put my
strength to one final test ; I began to climb the wall.
'I've never been good at this.' Climbing walls is an art. An art at which I was quite
handicapped.
'Not today.' Fatigue didn't bother me anymore. The narrow cracks on the end of the
wall went right to the top edge of the wall where the barbs ended. I used the cracks to
manoeuvre my way to the top. Every muscle in my body resented the climb. I placed my left
foot on the edge and made a desperate jump to the other side.
I fell on the ground with a loud thud. I wasn't sure if I hadn't broken anything, not until I
stood up.
The expanse in front of me was pretty foreign to my eyes. There was no road, not
even a footpath. The gravel and undergrowth on the ground led to a fiery crimson wood, not
far from where I stood . No towering buildings; pretty much desolate - save for the puny figure
heading towards the bushes.
Stealth was the key. He was unaware of my presence. I quietly made a run to the first
large bush I could find. Now I could see him clearly. Still gasping for breath, he held the
chalice and looked proudly at it.
'This is my chance . If I … what was that?' I heard a sound, a rather shrill one.
Something like a squeak. Or was it a cry ?
'Is that a ….' The boy bent down and picked up the little child who was lying on the
grassy undergrowth near the place he was standing.
The child did not seem more than a month old. It's health seemed to be pretty fragile.
Every now and then it made a light squeak. The boy affectionately caressed the baby in his
arms.
When I looked into the eyes of the little boy, I didn't find the pain I expected to find ; the
pain of being abandoned. Those innocent eyes reflected pure joy to see his baby brother.
Those eyes reflected immense love and satisfaction. In the desolation, abandoned by
humanity, there stood two self satisfied beings; their world being confined unto themselves.
Two beings, who did not need to heed the cruel world who had cast them away. They had
each other, and that is all that mattered to them. They completed each other.
The two innocent souls were being tested by life itself in the toughest of ways. Life, like
a heartless usurper, had taken away everything from them, had tortured them to
inconceivable extents. But in this ruthless game of survival, they had vanquished their sole
competitor, fate itself. Undaunted, victorious and unafraid, they were standing there in front of
me. I stood there, speechless, awestruck.
The droplets of tiny orb-like transparent liquid from the sky fell on my face, augmenting
those falling from my moist eyes.
The little boy seemed delighted as he looked up in the sky. He held his baby brother in
one arm and stretched out the other, his tiny hand holding my grandpa's favourite chalice. The
droplets of water steadily filled the grand vessel in his outstretched hands. The boy chuckled
delightfully. He brought the chalice close to his brother's face and slowly poured the grand
contents of the chalice into his tiny mouth.
“Use it well.” My grandpa's voice echoed in my ears. Fate had brought the chalice to its
rightful owner.

[Audeamus]

Need some critical comments...

[DATo]

Nice job Audeamus !

I thought you created a very nice "feel" to the futuristic setting and employed some interesting ideas regarding what life would be like, for instance, the absence of rain which we take for granted. This element of the story made me stop and think of how I would relate to the opportunity of experiencing rainfall for the first time and what it would be like. At this point of the story I was reminded of a time I was at a chat site and encountered a girl who lived in Australia who had never experienced snow. I remember how amazed she was by my description of it: the crunch of it beneath one's shoes, the way it looked floating down against the backdrop of light from a street lantern at night, the feel of snowflakes upon one's tongue, the sounds of voices and other outdoor sounds muffled by the soft blankets of snow. I imagine that experiencing rain for the first time would be an equally fascinating event.

And of course the chalice, which I assumed at one time in the distant past had belonged to a priest for a priest would be the most prevalent source of them in our present timeline. One criticism I would make at this point is the fact that the grandfather was never asked (nor did he ever offer to tell) how the chalice came into his possession. One would think that something so priceless to him would come accompanied by the story of how he came by it. It is a minor thing, and would be easy to fix in a future draft of the story. You leave us with the feeling that the chalice has found its way to its intended destiny by coming into the possession of the boy who needs it far more than the narrator, but then we are left to speculate how the boy would use it to better the future of both himself and his brother. Maybe a better ending would be for the narrator to confront the boy who is now burdened with both his brother and the chalice and would find it difficult to escape with both. The narrator could befriend the boy and offer to look after him and his brother - thus, the chalice would serve as the vehicle which brought them together, and THIS would be the fulfillment of the chalice's true destiny. These are just suggestions. The story is fine just the way it stands.

I enjoyed reading this. You have talent. Keep writing.

- DATo

[Audeamus]

Thanks a lot DATo!

Its great to get such a detailed review of my story. I've started writing very recently and this one's pretty close to my heart. I will most certainly consider your valuable suggestions and make changes accordingly.

P.S. I live in the tropics so I haven't experienced snowfall either. :-D