The Offering.

 by Archie Kregear.

Kasi examined the arrangement of her offerings in the woven basket and moved an orange to the side opposite the kumquat. She leaned back to examine the color balance of the fruits, vegetables, and nuts as a slight smile grew on her face. She stroked the figurine of herself, which she had painstakingly carved from a ram’s horn. Her chest muscles clenched as she wrung her hands and touched them to her lips. It doesn’t look like me, but it’s the best carving I have done. The babe inside her kicked. I hope the gods accept my image. Please, gods, bless me and my child.

She lifted the basket, turning it so the figurine gazed away from her as she stepped into the first light of a new day. Sand and small rocks covered the path along the cliff but went unnoticed under her calloused feet. The walk to the cave was not long, but holding the basket before her soon made her arms weary. She leaned against the base of the cold stone wall and rested the basket on a ledge. Her lamb skin covering stuck to her sweaty back. She shook the garment to pull it free and let the morning air cool her. The child within adjusted itself, and she wondered how many more days it would be before her newborn would arrive.

She could see the opening in the cliff face as she rounded a boulder. She stepped into the cave, paused to let her eyes adjust to the darkness, and then advanced one tiny step at a time as the walls and ceiling closed upon her. Soon, she was forced to bend and shuffle her feet to get to the altar. With shaking hands, she placed the basket on the ground and pushed it forward to rest before a smooth, dark stone. Her hope for acceptance brought a wave of sobs and tears. Bless me and my child, gods. Her exit from the cave was swift. After composing herself, she hurried back to the village.

A refreshing splash of water on her face from the pool beneath a waterfall eased her anxiety. I did it. I made an offering to the gods. Blessings will come. Others of the clan used hollow gourds to collect the falling water. She smiled at them before using her hands to guide water to her mouth. Soothed by the cool water, she hurried to the hut she shared with Sezik, the father of her child, to eat a morning meal of cheese, fruit, nuts, and dried fish.

Days later, Kasi went into labor. Many of the older women from the village came to their stick and grass hut to assist. The night was a blur, but by morning, she held her newborn boy, healthy and full of life. Her heart soared with the knowledge that a new life had come from her. Feeling blessed, she named him Puaki. Outside, Sezik danced for joy with the men of the village.

Kasi’s memories were now divided into three phases: the days growing up with her parents, her time alone with Sezik, and her life with Puaki. It was always the same: working on the farms, maintaining the orchards, tending the goats, or fishing in the rivers and lakes. The other people in the village were the same. Any changes to the daily routine were so minuscule they didn’t register in her thoughts.

One day, a bee stung Sezik and his body began to swell. His face turned red, and his breathing was shallow. He was afraid, and Kasi did not know what to do except stay by his side. Puaki cried. The shadows moved a quarter of their daily journey before Sezik rose, took a few steps, stubbed a toe on a root, fell, and hurt his knee.

“I am cursed by the gods!” he yelled.

That night, Sezik limped as he searched the hut. “I need something to offer the gods. I need their blessing to return to me.”

Kasi put Puaki down and gathered the fruits, cheese, dried meat, and nuts in the hut. “This is all we have. We can make a basket and offer it to the gods, and they will bless you,” she said.

“I need to offer more. Something that will get their attention.” He hobbled around the center of the hut, flailing his arms. “We have nothing! Nothing to offer. Nothing to give to the gods. I am doomed!”

He wrapped his hands around his head in lament, stumbled, and as he fell, Kasi shoved him. “You almost stepped on Puaki!” she screamed.

Sezik rolled toward his son. “Puaki. Yes, Puaki. The gods will certainly bless me if I give them my first-born son.” He reached for the infant.

“No. You cannot offer Puaki.” Kasi pushed him aside and swept the babe up off the floor.

His father stood and shouted, “Do you want me to remain cursed?”

“No. But you will not offer my son.” She turned her back to Sezik to protect Puaki.

“Our son. We can have another. And we will because the gods will bless us for offering up Puaki.”

“I will not give him up.”

He grabbed her arms and turned her around. “We must.”

“No.”

“If I am to remain cursed, I curse you,” he growled.

“You can’t. I have the blessing of the gods.” She yelled back in his face.

“You have no blessing from me.” He swung his fist and hit her cheekbone. She protected the baby as she fell to the floor and hit her head on the stick wall. Sezik’s kick to her side took away her breath. He then wrestled Puaki from her arms and hobbled from the hut.

She tried to stand and chase him but was dizzy and fell to her hands and knees, wailing with grief.

That night, Melton brought a baby boy home to his wife, Cassandra. They adopted the child.

Fifteen years later

As his son crossed the family room and approached the refrigerator, Melton paused the hologram movie he was watching on the kitchen bar. “It’s your fifteenth birthday tomorrow, Warton. Your mother and I have a special day planned for you.”

“Thanks for being good adoptive parents, but I can’t, dad. Our strike team just entered a new realm, and we’re exploring it tomorrow.” He pulled a mini pizza from the freezer.

“We’re taking you to a special place. No fantasy worlds, powerful weapons, or magic.”

“Reality is a bore. Movies are a bore.” Warton placed the pizza in the microwave.

“New item received,” said the microwave’s electronic voice. “Please specify how you want this cooked.”

“Yeah, same as yesterday. Why can’t this thing learn that when I put food in, I want it cooked the fastest way? It asks every day.”

“Have you read the other options on the packaging?” Melton asked condescendingly.

“Why?” Warton threw up his arms. “It scans the package and knows everything there is to know about cooking the pizza before I could read the first word.”

“You’d know there is a decision to make. It asks you to make that decision.”

“I shouldn’t have to make it every day,” Warton exclaimed. “Cook the fastest way,” he said to the microwave.” The device began to hum.

Melton folded his hands. “Do you want me to decide what and when you eat?”

“I’ll get pizzas when I can break from the game. And I do know where pizzas come from. You don’t have to tell me again.”

The microwave chimed. Warton slid the pizza out, grabbed an energy drink, and disappeared down the hallway.

The following day, Melton and Cassandra managed to pull Warton from his gaming and board a transport vehicle. Warton never glanced out the windows as they journeyed to the center of town.

“Not the Exhibition Hall!” Warton whined, as they exited from the car. “Really?”

“There’s a surprise for you inside, son. I know you’ll like it.”

“I don’t remember ever being here,” Cassandra said.

Melton took Cassandra’s hand and guided her through people going in all directions.

Etched on the front of the four-story building was a sundial. The gnomon was a twisted replica of the Eiffel Tower tilted at a forty-five-degree angle from the wall and ground. It cast a shadow on two o’clock. Above it, giant letters read, The Paths of Humanity.

The device in Melton’s pocket lightly chimed to verify the family’s entrance. They proceeded into a clear tube walkway that took them through a holographic representation of the biodome on Triton. They could see everything going on with the pioneers in real time, minus the four hour and a few minute delay caused by the time it took the images to reach Earth and be processed into the display. Most of the dome contained hydroponic gardens where people were tending crops. The tube curved to take the family over workshops, a cafeteria, a playground, and residential buildings. At the edge of the dome were the air and water purification machines, nuclear power plant, and recycling facilities.

Warton didn’t look at any of it. He was preoccupied with thoughts of his friends exploring a new realm without him.

The tube ended in a wide corridor with realistic dioramas on both sides. Most contained moving animals and live plants in a specific biome. There were scenes of dinosaurs, train stations of the 1860s, a Punic War battle with elephants crushing holographic soldiers, the American Civil War, the building of pyramids along the Nile River, the construction of the Great Wall of China, and samurai warriors fighting the Mongols.

“We came here in third grade. It was boring then,” Warton exclaimed. “I need to go help my team conquer a new land.”

“Here’s your present,” his father said, holding out a box that easily fit in his hand.

“Thanks.” Warton snatched the box and ran back into the tube through the Triton hologram.

Cassandra and Melton watched him vanish.

“Will he ever get away from that interactive game long enough for us to tell him who his birth mother and father are?” Cassandra asked.

“He knows he’s adopted, but knowing who his birth parents are doesn’t seem to be important for him at this time.”

“What did you get him for a present?”

“Just an old trinket I’ve had for a long time. Shall we get some ice cream?”

“That’s one of the things we came to do.” She smiled at her husband, grateful she had married someone tall, handsome, and kind.

Melton and Cassandra sat at a small table, eating their ice cream and watching the people pass. It was as enjoyable as looking at the various dioramas.

They strolled to an exhibit of early humans and stared through the one-way glass. This display had farms and orchards and its inhabitants kept goats and chickens. Melton adjusted his transmission device so they could listen to the sounds inside.

The steady splash of the waterfall gave background to the people's conversations.

“I feel like I’ve been here before. A long time ago,” Cassandra said.

“It’s one of the simulations I used to manage,” Melton replied.

An electronic voice announced from inside the ancient diorama, “Level One. You are a human male. You have no special skills. Your name is Puaki.”

A young man in a loin cloth came into view. He held an object to his ear and yelled, “No.”

“That’s Warton!” Cassandra exclaimed.

The youth walked to the pool under the waterfall.

Someone screamed, “Stranger!” A fist-sized rock hit the young man’s chest. He dodged another stone and fell into the pool. Rocks splashed into the water. When he disappeared below the surface, the villagers stopped. The water grew calm. The young man breached the surface and scrambled out. Villagers pelted him with stones. He stumbled and fell. Someone bashed his head in.

Cassandra buried her head in Melton’s chest.

“His resurrection spell must not have worked in the new land,” Melton said. “No shortcuts this time.”

The villagers dragged the body toward the farms.

Again, a voice sounded from inside the ancient diorama, “Level One. You are a human male. You have no special skills. Your name is Puaki.”

“Not again,” Cassandra said into Melton’s armpit. “I can’t watch.”

Warton again appeared from the same direction.

“Another stranger!” a villager yelled and threw a stone.

The young man raised his hands in defense. In one, he held a figurine. “I’m a friend.”

Rocks flew.

A woman ran past the pool toward the man.

“There she is,” Melton said to Cassandra.

Her eyes grew wide. “That’s the figure I gave to the gods. What is Warton doing with it?” Kasi demanded.

“I’m Puaki,” the young man yelled.

“My son, you have returned from the gods!” Kasi went to her knees and wept.

Cassandra turned to look. “So many levels ago. Wait!” She glared at Melton. “When were you going to tell me that I was Warton’s birth mother?”

“Today, honey. Today.”

A muted electronic voice announced from Cassandra's purse, “Level 142 complete.”