What is it?

We stand here in a circle. Silent and staring. The light flickers. Our shadows dance a subtle jig. An object sits before us on a raised platform. It’s simple yet alluring. Taunting us to step forward. To grab a handful of its beautiful exterior. What would it feel like to fall for its playful teasing? Would it be soft? Hard? Heavy?

A fan flicks on somewhere and we all glance in its direction. The breeze feels good, but it’s a distraction. Someone breaks the circle and shuts it off. The silence returns before conjecture about the object. The platform is more like a podium. It hold the object above our eye line forcing us to gaze up at it. The light does little help our self control. The rays dazzle and shine off the object’s edges. Something in our mouths malfunction and liquid floods it. Some escapes over lips and drips down. We suck it back inside.

We need to have it. We yearn for it. It’s all we’ve ever needed. It’s everything we’ll ever need.

The circle steps closer. Bodies collide. Shoves are had and a few trip. We lucky few who stay focused make a smaller circle exiling the less lucky. They form an outer ring of standing on tiptoes, jumping and hopping from one foot to the other.

Mumbles travel around the outer circle. They grow in volume turning to groans. We uncomfortable few mumble to ourselves little nothings of confirmation. No chance the outer group knows what we don’t. We’re closer to it.

The war of rumblings becomes a full on shouting match. It dies down right as it reaches an unbearable height of gibberish screams. Attention turns from one another back to what matters. The shining, dazzling object standing even grander and higher above us. A simple phrase comes appears out of the moment, “What is it.”

And then the silence is ruined forever.

“It’s rather obvious isn’t it.”

“How so?”

“It’s an object.”

“I want to grab it.”

“And eat it.”

“Eat it?”

“It’s just a feeling that emanates from it. My stomach needs to have it.”

“You feel it too?”

“Can you eat it?”

“How?”

“Yes let’s eat it.”

“No. I want it all.”

“So we’ll have it after you.”

“What if you can’t eat it?”

“I can.”

“I think it’s a cake.”

“Dear god.”

“Chocolate cake,” the silence returns to the circles. Not for any good reason though. We don’t know what a cake is. Let alone a chocolate cake. We don’t even know who offered that as a possible solution. It wasn’t one of us. We’d know. We’re us. Who said it? More importantly, is the object a cake? What is a cake’s purpose? Why is it called a cake? Why does it glisten? Does chocolate make a cake better? We hope so. Or…we think we do. We’re not sure. This is tough.

A few of the outer circlers run away screaming. The rest wait for the echoes to die down. Less cake for them.

“What’s chocolate cake?”

“Something I need to eat.”

“A cake made of chocolate.”

“That’s chocolate?”

“Yes.”

“Woah,” we say at the same time.

“Can we not eat it.”

“No.”

“I don’t think I can live if I don’t eat it.”

“Right this moment?”

“If we have to go another minute without eating it I think we’ll all explode.”

“Then we must eat it.

“Better idea.”

“Please share.”

“Zap it.”

We press a button and a blinding light surrounds the object. The could be chocolate cake disappears leaving the platform empty. We moan like a chorus “Ahhhh,” and then move on to the next object.