The Macaw and The Apple

Al could hear the rumbling and whirring of the train car as it sped along the light rail through the rocky hillside of Western Argentina. He knew he had a conversation to attend to, but couldn’t seem to stop looking at the bird ahead of him across the aisle. The fluorescent red-orange feathers around its head and torso were like nothing he’d seen before at home. The man that the bird was perched upon was equally peculiar. He wore an old, black tuxedo with a hat to match and round, gold-trimmed glasses. He had a waxed mustache, mutton chops, and was reading from a worn, leather-bound book.

Suddenly, the man looked up and made direct eye contact. Al felt a cold shiver sweep through him. The faint snapping of fingers from the stranger across from him broke his attention. The teenager glared from the seat facing him and pushed his hands through his greasy, brown hair in an annoyed fashion while mumbling to himself.

“Ay, dios mío... Estás en la luna.”

Al shifted his attention back to the young teenager and tried to remember the kid’s name.

Jhon. That’s his name.

“Do you know what kind of bird that is?”

The teenager leaned around the shoulder of his seat and peaked down the aisle at the man with the bird. He turned back to Al with an unimpressed look.

“That’s a macaw.”

Al looked over at the bird, then back to the teenager.

“I thought I read in school that macaws were extinct.”

“Not all macaws.”

Jhon looked out the window and paused before continuing.

“That’s a scarlet macaw, though. Those birds are definitely extinct.”

He looked back at Al with a sarcastic expression.

“Exotic animals sell well on Henosia, but extinct exotic animals sell even better.”

Al felt himself growing frustrated at the thought of this. He had learned about the Great Deforestation of tropical America and the ecological blunders that followed. It was a big political push to convert the trees of South and Central America into ‘liquid natural capital’ for the continental economy. The movement began in the northwestern regions of South America before rapidly spreading north to the Yucatan Peninsula. This led to the endangerment or extinction of countless native animal species.

The promise of replanting the forests to preserve the subcontinental environment was a rather deceitful one. Trees take too long to grow to achieve preservation. What occurred in the decades following was an inevitable ecological transformation into a more arid landscape of which the results were still yet to be seen.

“Tell me something, lad.”

The peculiar man in the suit had set down his book and was now looking over to their booth with an inquisitive expression on his face.

“What do you know about the story of Adam and Eve?”

Al shot a glance to the teenager across from him to see if Jhon knew whether or not it was safe to talk to the man, but the kid was staring aloofly out the window watching the hills roll by.

“Come have a seat, young man.”

The peculiar man had now picked up a walking cane that had been resting against his booth and was pointing it at him in a beckoning manner.

“I insist.”

Al hesitated before standing up. Jhon was still staring out the window as if completely unaware of the situation. He didn’t seem nervous, though, and had said earlier that he rode this train route pretty regularly. Al assumed that it must not be too risky and began to walk over to the man’s booth.

For a short, unbearable moment, all that could be heard was the rumbling of the train car as the man observed Al. This made Al slightly uncomfortable, but given that the man was clearly smuggling an exotic bird, he guessed that there was little risk of Al being reported for fleeing the United States. As far as he could tell, people that had business in Antarctica were relatively indifferent to issues of immigration and political affiliation.

“You appear to be quite educated for your age. How familiar are you with the anthropology of Mesopotamia's fertile crescent?”

The man looked at Al with a stern expression on his face. Al felt unsure about the coldness in his eyes, but he didn’t sense any hostility.

“Not much at all.”

Al looked over at the macaw to avoid the man’s icy gaze.

“I know that we learned about the Tigris and Euphrates rivers in school, but not much more than that.”

The man looked unamused.

“Very well.”

He leaned over and set his cane down against his seat.

“According to the Hebrew calendar, the first year of the world is what we estimate in the Gregorian calendar to be the year 3761 BCE.”

Al looked out the window to his left. The train was now moving through the vast, dry plains of the Santa Cruz province.

“The first domestication of the apple that we know of occurred in the Tien Shan mountains near southeast Kazakhstan somewhere between the time of 8000 and 4000 BCE.”

Al looked back at the man impatiently, attempting to conceal his nervousness.

“What’s this all about?”

The man’s expression didn’t budge. Al felt uneasy, as if he were looking into the eyes of a lion.

“The arrival of the domesticated apple would have been a monumental experience in Mesopotamian culture.”

“AAGHK!”

The screaming of the macaw on the man’s shoulder made Al jump in his seat. Tensely, he sat back down. The man looked up at the bird as it flapped its wings a few times. When it settled down, he turned his attention back to Al.

“It’s one thing to be able to domesticate basic needs like food, water, and shelter. We don’t know precisely when the domesticated apple was introduced to Mesopotamia, but it certainly would have been a luxury when it arrived. So much so, in my interpretive opinion, that the apple was used to symbolize domestication as the crux of all human existence as we know it.”

The macaw lifted its wings, about to flap. The man quickly turned and shot a piercing glare to the bird. It immediately lowered its wings.

“True humanity begins with domestication. Domestication is our greatest blessing and the ultimate curse. With it, we are endowed with the ability to see the difference between the forest and the trees. For this same reason, however, we are forever barred from shedding our responsibility and embracing the trees in ignorance.”

Al’s head was spinning trying to keep up with the man. He mustered up his best attempt to look interested.

“And so, instead of accepting the responsibility of tending to the forests of Eden that we call Earth, we cut them down and use them to fuel our adolescent dreams of escaping that which we were raised by the harsh lessons of life to inherit.”

Al looked down at the floor, then up to the macaw. The colors of the bird were so beautiful, but he felt so heavy inside. The macaw walked down the man’s arm and back up to his shoulder. It flapped its wings three times, then silently returned to a motionless posture.

“You may see what my business on Henosia entails, but I hope you understand the reality of the situation. Life is messy. Evolution is very messy. In a cold and relentless universe, survival is the only game capable of grooming life fit to thrive. This can lead to resentment in adolescence, as is often the case when raising a child to face the harsh realities of life. If this sentiment is not corrected, the relationship risks permanent damage.”

The man sighed. Al could see the stress in the man’s eyes behind his calm demeanor.

“And so, here we are.”

The man paused. For a short moment, the rumbling of the train car gliding across the light rail was all that could be heard in their booth. The man looked up at the macaw.

“...A species annihilated by the ignorance of humankind will be preserved through the same domestication that damaged it.”

A voice from down the aisle interjected in a mocking tone.

“For the right price, of course.”

Al looked over his shoulder and saw Jhon glaring down the aisle at the peculiar man. The man didn’t acknowledge the boy’s comment. Al was sure that he had heard it, but the man kept his eyes on the macaw.

“I can tell that you’re running from something, lad. I don’t know what you’re hoping to find in Antarctica, but I won’t pry into your personal journey. Just know that behind the veneer of flashing lights and commerce, Henosia is a dangerous place."

The man leaned over and grabbed the leather-bound book he had been reading earlier. He handed the book to Al and the stern expression on his face softened noticeably. Al could feel the fuzzy patches of worn leather and the coarseness of the old, brittle stitching that ran through the book’s spine. He looked at the metallic silver text printed on the cover.

Le Mythe De Sisyphe

Par Albert Camus

Al looked up to the man with a puzzled expression.

“Is this in a different language? How can I read this if I don’t understand the text?”

The man looked at him with a faint smile.

“As I said before, you seem quite intelligent. If it’s important to you, I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

He peaked inconspicuously down the aisle of the train car, then looked back to Al.

“Now go and enjoy the rest of the ride with your new friend.”

Al nodded to the man, stood up, and walked back down the aisle to his seat. He could feel a rush of relief as he sat down. Jhon was busy picking at the loose fibers of a cardboard cup he was holding. Al looked down at the book in his hands. The light shining through the train car window reflected off of the metallic silver print of the cover.

“What’s the book?”

Jhon was now looking up from the cup he had been peeling apart.

“I really don’t know.”

Al examined the silver text again.

“It’s in another language. I think it might be French.”

The teenager leaned over across the booth and quickly scanned the title upside down. He leaned back and resumed peeling away at his cup.

“Yep, that’s definitely French.”

Al looked up at the boy with surprise.

“Do you understand it? Do you know what it says?”

The boy dropped the loose peelings of his cardboard cup onto the floor.

“The Myth of Sisyphus, by Albert Camus. I’m not sure what Sisyphus means.”

Jhon looked back out the window.

“That might not be a French word.”

Al kept looking at the title of the book while mumbling aloud.

“Sisyphus...”

That was an interesting word. He wondered what it could mean. Al’s thinking was interrupted by Jhon, now leaning in closely and whispering to him.

“I’ve seen that man on this train route before. Very weird guy. What did you talk about with him?”

Al looked out the window. The train was now leaving the plains and gliding across a bridge over a large body of water. They had passed the Chilean border and were now crossing the Straight of Magellan. He looked over to Jhon, then back out the window. The way the surface of the water shimmered in the sunlight was calming.

“To be honest, I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”