2.3) The Price of Life

“... It’s getting cold,” Mary eventually said.

Julian opened his eyes. The sun was setting and the winds were getting stronger. It was no wonder that she was cold; he himself was wearing the same jacket and pants he always did, but she was wearing light clothing that was suited for indoor temperatures.

He looked over to Atlas, who was still lying quietly in the cold. The clothes Julian had purchased remained untouched next to his side. It was fascinating: if it was cold for Mary, then it should have been even colder for Atlas. But he remained fine, not shivering and lying still. Almost like a statue. Maybe he was just used to it? He found him face-flat on the cold pavement of an alleyway, after all.

Mary was the first to lift her back off the grass. She stretched her back, looked over at Atlas, then at Julian, then back at Atlas.

“Aren’t you cold?” Mary asked Atlas.

“No.”

She laughed. “Well, you sure are consistent. I would have been surprised if you had responded with anything longer than a single word.”

Then she turned to him and spoke playfully. “Julian? Are you hungry?”

“I could eat, yeah,” he said, also getting off his back.

“Then let’s go to a sushi place, yeah?” she said in a casual tone. “You too, Atlas. It’s on me.”

Julian frowned and looked into her face. It was still strange, after all these years. She was an extremely charitable person, but it seemed to him that whenever she was in a good mood, there was always, without fail, something about her demeanor that indicated that she was straining herself. And no one talked about it, almost like he was the only one who noticed this.

Then as Atlas rose to his feet, Julian could hear his entire body creak and screech. It was concerning–it was almost as if the large man had the mobility and speed of a senior citizen, despite the defined musculature he possessed. Or perhaps it was all those muscles that weighed him down. No, Julian felt that the sounds he heard were not natural–it almost sounded like Atlas’s body was made of metal.

Still, it was strange to him how unthreatening the large man seemed to be. He speculated that perhaps it was how slow he seemed to move, or how little motivation he seemed to have to do anything properly. But no, it couldn’t be that.

It must have been his eyes. Atlas’s eyes never wavered, as if he had nothing he needed to keep hidden. As if he was incapable of lying. But most importantly, his eyes had a strange softness to them, as if he was immensely exhausted. It resembled the look of a father returning home after a stressful day of work, who then immediately headed to bed because he was afraid that he would lash out at his family. The look of a man who had endured and sacrificed too much and longed for peace.

That’s why Julian could trust him. And despite knowing his sister for a longer period of time, it seemed to Julian that his sister was currently being more superficial than Atlas.

“Oh, and Atlas?” Mary said, interrupting Julian’s thoughts.

“Yes?”

“Put some clothes on.”

***

Atlas, Julian, and Mary waited outside the revolving sushi bar for about thirty minutes until they were finally let inside. Unlike the school campus, restaurants seemed to be bustling with customers, as if everyone wanted to make the most out of their life before the end came. A man asked if it was their first time at a rotating bar before, to which Mary promptly said no, and asked for three small plates of wasabi.

Atlas looked at the revolving bar as the other two were choosing their main dishes, and saw that there was food passing by their table on plates with plastic lids. It was mostly fish flesh. That’s what sushi was. Different from bread; someone had killed an animal for the sake of allowing others to eat.

Perhaps it would not be a problem if he was still human–but he was no longer fully human. He didn’t need to consume energy. His body could sustain itself forever, if it really wanted to. So to him, eating any kind of meat would be a waste of life.

But still, he wanted to taste something, anything. So instead, he patiently waited for something that was plant-based to pass by. Lo and behold, a plate of cut watermelons appeared in his sight.

He grabbed onto it, but struggled to take the plate out. It seemed that there was some kind of locking mechanism. As the plate almost passed him by, he barely managed to pull open the lid off the watermelons and take the plate out.

Breathing a sigh of relief, knowing that he didn’t break anything, he finally got ready to taste the watermelons. He reached with his bare hands and grabbed onto a piece of watermelon.

When Atlas took a bite out of the sweet watermelon and looked back up at the siblings, they were both staring at him with their eyebrows raised. It was then that he felt discomfort for the first time since he woke up.

“What?” Atlas asked.

“Um, did… Did you just spend four dollars for a couple of watermelons?” Julian asked.

Atlas looked at them confused, tasting the watermelon melt in his mouth. “Is it strange?”

“Well… It's… It's watermelon. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone actually take the watermelons off the… the rotating thing.”

Mary leaned toward Julian and whispered, her eyes still on Atlas. “It's called a conveyor belt, Julian. Thought you're supposed to be a humanities major.”

“Jeez, what's with you and making fun of my major…?”

Mary shrugged and sighed. “Anyway. If Atlas wants to eat watermelon, let him. It's the end of the world. Money will matter a lot less when everyone's dead, yeah?”

Atlas continued eating. The watermelon was sweet, unlike the bread he had eaten before.

Mary and Julian finished ordering their food, then pulled out plates off the conveyor belt. Naturally, they were picking out the most tasty looking sushi, and Atlas could feel his mouth salivating.

Soon, their main dish arrived–Julian had ordered a bowl of ramen, while Mary had ordered udon.

Mary looked at Atlas staring at the conveyor belt. “You know, you could order a main dish, too. You don’t need to fill your stomach with things off the conveyor belt.”

“I’m not very hungry,” Atlas said.

“Well, suit yourself,” she said, tearing open her chopsticks and pulling a string of noodles up to her mouth.

Atlas watched for something else he could eat. Eventually, his eyes landed on a plate of green beans, prompting his hands to move and pull the plate out.

As he bit one of the green beans whole, he looked up to see that the siblings were both staring at him as if he was a lunatic. Again, he felt uncomfortable.

“What? I mean, what?”

Mary sighed, unable to defend his actions. “Look, no one comes to a revolving sushi bar to eat those green beans. Or at least, no one besides you. Are you vegetarian?”

Atlas took a second to think. Perhaps he was now.

“Maybe.”

Julian interjected. “I’m really sorry, but I think that’s impossible. No one gets that buff with watermelons and green beans. Unless you’re on steroids?”

“I’m not.”

“So you aren’t vegetarian,” Mary said. “Look. Try this.”

Mary pushed forward a plate. “Just one piece of nigiri. Should be simple enough, right?”

Atlas gulped. Truth be told, this “nigiri” seemed more appetizing than anything he had eaten all day. But still, he couldn’t let it go to waste. Not when someone else could eat it who could use it more.

He sighed. “No thanks.”

“At least explain why,” Mary said.

Atlas stared at her, trying to think of an explanation that doesn’t sound absurd.

“I don’t think it would be worth it.”

“What?”

He closed his eyes. “I don’t think I can fully give appreciation to the sacrifice this fish made for my consumption.”

Atlas could hear Julian nervously laugh as Mary mumbled a quiet “what?” under her breath.

Mary spoke slowly. “Listen, Atlas. The fish is dead. It doesn't care about what you think. And even if it could say anything about it, I’m sure it would tell you that the least you can do is enjoy its taste. Look over there, Atlas.”

Atlas reopened his eyes as she pointed at the kitchen.

“Think about it. What are the chefs here for? To kill for the sake of killing? No, they are here to make the most meaning out of the death of these fish. They take the corpses of these small, cute fish, and do their absolute best to make it enjoyable for us to eat.”

She tapped her finger on the plate of nigiri. “This is the price of life. To live is to consume life. It’s unfair, I know, but if you think too hard about it, you’ll go insane. Just appreciate the good that comes out of the sacrifices. Don’t think too hard about the fact that it’s dead. Think about the fact that you are alive and that you can experience this. It’s tasty. Come on, try it.”

Atlas looked down at the nigiri. Despite the fact that the fish meat would not give him any physical benefit whatsoever, he still wanted to know what it tasted like.

It was already dead. He wasn’t killing it himself. And through the efforts of many–including Mary, who was paying for the food–he had the opportunity of enjoying it to its fullest.

And so, Atlas slowly reached for the nigiri with his bare hands and dropped it into his mouth. It tasted different than anything he had eaten that day, and beat the taste of everything else by miles. As he chewed, Atlas looked back at the conveyor belt and pulled out another plate.

“There you go,” Mary said, leaning back on her seat. “Man, it’s almost like I’m teaching you how to live.”

She rested her elbow on the table and her face on her hands, quietly watching him eat with a gentle but weak smile on her face.

“... The world is built on the sacrifice of others. No human should ever forget that.”