Don’t Take Life Too Seriously; You Might Enjoy Your Time Out

I made for the fields with due haste. Nobody cast a second glance as I dashed through the front door. Doubtless, they were accustomed to my comings and goings. Pulling off my shoes, I sprinted down the rotund driveway with a frenetic hop—never miss an opportunity to be free of those accursed things— making a beeline for the stash. I realized the illogic of my rush; if I had to sprint past the spy, it would be too late. Still, it put the simpler parts of my brain at ease.

I thought myself slick by bypassing the village so as not to draw attention, until I realized I had to wade through additional acreage of muddy quagmire. Last night's heavy rains had turned the fields into difficult terrain, and the clear and unobstructed sun had turned the air almost as thick and sticky as the muck. I nearly stripped off my breeches until I considered how awkward it would be if discovered. By the time I made it to the stash, mud covered more than just my trousers.

Really though, I should have just embraced the filth. Someone had accessed the stash since my last visit, and only a layer of field debris covered it, along with the muddy runoff. Panicking, I rushed to pull open the lid, but the dirt formed a kind of seal. After my grip slipped several times, sending me back planting and rolling in the mud like a feral hog, I finally managed to break the suction…

Where is it?? I tore through the assembled items without concern for discretion. Come on! It has to be here! Despite my self-assurances, my adrenaline spiked. I couldn’t have gotten her too late, I just couldn’t! The stash had the aforementioned items, but I couldn’t find the bottle! Was I too late…

But then, I caught a gleam from the far corner: a green glass bottle! My hand snatched it before I could stop myself. It was the same glass bottle I had noted before. It bore no label, but I was certain this was it. I felt the wave of exhaustion that accompanies the sudden release of stress, and gave my heart a moment to return to a sustainable rate. It looked like I cared more than I thought.

Turning the bottle over in my hands, it looked like the kind of bottle that might contain liquor or medicine. Giving it a shake, it slapped against the sides like used motor oil. I pulled the cork stopper and gave it a whiff. Perhaps not the wisest idea; maybe I was still addled from the fight or flight response. Regardless, it had no discernible odor. Peeking inside, I couldn’t make out the color, but poring a bit out revealed a milky yellow substance.

Alright, I had the poison. Now what to do about it? The simple solution was to pelt it into the nearest ditch, but that would give away the game. I could try swapping it out, dumping the contents, and filling it with water. But water had a different viscosity, and if the spy had handled the bottle at all, it would not go unnoticed, though I doubt he knew what it looked like. Well, I doubted I could find an exact visual and tactile duplicate, but something with the same thickness should do, but what?

I put on a tight face as I tried to come up with a solution. Perhaps my subconscious took pity on me, as it brought the subtle sound of a babbling brook to my ears, and they swiveled in that direction. Yes, that might work. I dumped the contents before darting off; couldn’t allow myself to reconsider.

Water bubbled and stirred as it passed by the scattering of rocks and boulders. A pity there wasn’t a large tree to provide shade; it would have been a great relaxation spot. Even still, cool water was always appreciated on a hot day, and I could see villagers making use of this valuable resource a way off. They probably wouldn’t notice me unless they made an active perception check, and even still, they wouldn’t see my activities. Regardless, I needed to be quick, lest one wander over here with a curious mind.

As refreshing as the flowing water was, it didn’t hold the solution. However, where there is moving water, there is often unmoving water, trapped in isolated pools. Sure enough, it didn’t take long to find one, and more importantly, algae formation, or pond scum. A green gooey mess, perfect.

I reckoned that if I gathered handfuls of the algae and squeezed out the chlorophyll, it would have a similar viscosity as the original content, or a close enough approximation.

So I got to work, wringing out handfuls of green slime, filling it halfway, before realizing it might be a good idea to rinse the bottle out first; no telling how strong this stuff was. “Shit...” Still, it was only a delay, and I got back to pulling globs of the stuff from the water as various creatures darted around my hands: frogs, snakes, various winged insects, slugs... A biologist's utopia. Biology was never a particular interest of mine, or I might have found myself delayed by several hours, but it did give me something to distract myself while I pressed out the green gunk. After filling the bottle for a second time, my hands looked like I had murdered the Jolly Green Giant. As I wanted to avoid suspicion, I would need more than a little water to clear me of this deed—hopefully it wouldn't stain.

Fortunately, I had more than a little clean water. Unfortunately, scrubbing the residue from the fine fur on the back of my hands proved challenging. It didn't think it dyed it green, but it didn't want to come off either. Using silt from the stream bed helped, but even with the grit, it still required effort.

"Hey there!" I leaped from the stream like a championship bass. Snapping my head around, an old man, who very much reminded me of an Amish farmer with a full white beard, overall, and everything, approached, waving a friendly hand. A flush spread through my ears.

"Hey..." I waved back with a tepid hand. As friendly as he seemed, his appearance posed a problem, and washing before a stranger was only part of the issue..

"What you up to there?" He would be the curious sort.

"Just... washing my face." I splashed some water on my face for emphasis.

"Hey, ain’t you that fox creature?" He said as if just coming to this realization. "Don't you live up in that chateau? Why are you washing your face down here?" He tugged his shoulder straps with his thumbs as he casually rocked on his heels. Had he come over here just to chew the fat?

"Well, you know... Old habits die hard." I tried going back to washing my hands, hoping he would get the message and make himself scarce.

"Oh, makes sense. You are a wilderness critter after all.” I suppressed a rebuke. “My grandpappy used to insist on using his prized 'seasoning' stone in every stew he made, up until the day he died. Even after we proved that Tyrilerman scammed him, he kept using that stone." Great, a yapper. All I could do was take my bottle and go.

"What you got there?" Damn, he saw me pick up the bottle. I quickly stashed it in my coat and grabbed a nearby slug.

"Oh, just a slug..."

"Oh..." He stared, tugging at his beard. Was he expecting an elaboration? His long face and hiked eyebrows said yes.

"They are a delicacy where I come from," I said and popped it into my mouth. "Mmm... Acke!" I tried to give a satisfied sound, but couldn’t and had to stifle a gag reflex. "Well... See ya," came my hoarse voice as I took off running as if to the toilet.

"I'll be seeing ya then!" He called out. "Names Pjor by the way!" Pjor is it? I wasn't the list-keeping sort, but if I were, his name would be going at the top.

I ducked out of sight the first chance I got, and spat out the slug, barely managing to keep from spitting everything else up too. I couldn’t wash the taste out of my mouth. Damn, and I still had to stash this bottle. Luckily, this part at least went off without incident.

Despite the hiccups, I completed the mission. With a little luck, they will write it off as bogus poison, and the status quo will be maintained. As for me, I had been assaulted with field muck during my misadventures, and while water had cured me of this affliction, I still needed time to dry out. With time to kill, I figured I would head into the village. Better than standing in a vacant field. Maybe get a head start on those records.

"Are these hay bales still here?"

"Aye, they are." Two workers quibble over a stack of large hay bales, the younger carrying a sack of some sort over his shoulder.

"What are those hougen doing? This should have been taken care of hours ago!" The younger one sounded annoyed while the other just pointed to a hougen standing several dozen strides away.

"54 has just been staring back and forth between the hay bales and the barn," the older of the two said passively. "Been like that for the last several hours."

"Several hours!? This is ridiculous! Somebody needs to set him straight! We can't run a village this way!"

"By all means, feel free to put him on the straight and narrow."

"Me??" He said as though he would much rather not.

"Yeah, you," the older responded with a sternness creeping into his voice. "If you feel it is such a problem, we would all appreciate setting 54 right."

"Yeah, but..."

"Personally, I don’t plan on getting pulled into another of 54's long musings over another of his 'ideas.'" The younger man looked like he wanted to offer a rebuttal, but deflated instead. "Don't worry, I'm sure he will get to it eventually. In the meantime, you will just have to go around."

Interesting. Hougen were technically slaves, but people seemed unwilling to exercise that power over them. As I approached this 54, I was reminded why. This guy looked like they could walk through an entire defensive tackle and be more aware of the cheering crowd than the shattered remains of the people he had trampled underfoot.

"Hmm..." The hougen called 54 looked at the barn for several moments before turning his colossal body to examine the hay bales. "Umm..." Another drawn-out utterance followed by several more moments of contemplation, before returning his nearly neckless mass back to face the barn.

"Umm... What ya doing?" I asked, against my better judgment.

"Oh..." He paused before slowly turning his entire form down to face me like a curious kaiju. "Oh, you're not one of the humans," he said in that long, drawn-out manner I had heard before.

"No, I'm a yutsuukitsuu," I said. The massive creature mulled that over.

"I've never seen a…" he said after a time and then, very deliberately, added, "yutsuu...kitsuu..."

"Not many have," I said, relaxing. "Why are you standing there?"

"Hmm... I was thinking... the hay bales go into the barn one at a time."

"Yep... That's usually how it's done."

"On the way there, I move one bale."

"...Yeah."

"But on the way back, I move no hay bales..."

"That is true..."

"If I could somehow move a bale on the way back, it would be faster." How insightful. Most humans wouldn't realize that, or even spend time thinking about it.

"So you have been trying to think of a way to move hay bales on the return trip?"

"Hmm... yes." Well, I could certainly think of things to increase efficiency, but I believe in letting people flex their intellectual muscles.

"I see." I scratched my chin. "Maybe instead of thinking about how to move hay bales on the return trip, you should try thinking about how you could make fewer trips."

"HMMM..." That seemed to spark some mental stimulation. I stepped away to let him work. Hougen, by no metric, could claim intelligence, but you had to respect the pursuit.

"Olavir, what are you doing here? You're two days early." I figured I might as well get those reports for Igot while in the area—we had entered the rainy season and no telling what the weather would be like two days from now, probably rainy. However, Jick took issue.

"I was around and thought it would be convenient to gather it now." We stood in Jick's two-story abode, though it seemed he had a boarder on the upper floor.

"Oh yeah, convenient for whom??" He returned, ever the disagreeable type, paired with a contemptuous smirk. At least, by this time, it was friendly, like when you tell your buddy to go jump in a lake after he asked you to cover lunch yet again.

"Convenient for all parties involved," I said. "It will get done now instead of two days..."

"Yeah, but two days is not now. Plus, I haven't counted everything yet."

"Well, count them! You will have to do it sooner or later."

"Yeah, well, I like the idea of later rather than sooner." It seemed procrastination transcended worlds.

"Yes, but today it is dry. And in two days..." A door slammed open, and a mortified workhand came puffing through the door.

"Jick! The hougen..." the man said, sucking air. "They are throwing..."

"Calm down, man," he said with controlled concern. "What about the hougen?"

"They are throwing hay bales! Lugar nearly got crushed and had to dive out of the way!"

"What!?"

"Come on! You got to put a stop to it!" They sprinted out, our conversation all but forgotten. I followed along, curious. The hougen, while certainly capable of mass mayhem, seemed fairly docile.

Once we rounded the bend, the crashing of hay bales became audible. And after clearing a few more houses... "There! They are just hurling the hay bales!"

True, in fact, but so did a blacksmith just hit things with a hammer. Jick prepared himself to rush over—even though that seemed unwise from the earlier report—but I grabbed him.

"What are you doing, Olavir!?" He tried to dislodge my grip, which he did with little effort.

"You all need to calm down and observe," I chided. "Take a look. They are not just throwing hay bales; they are moving them to the barn." Hardly a perplexing statement, but by their sour looks, you may have thought otherwise.

Four hougen had evenly spaced themselves between the stack of round hay bales and the large barn. The first grabbed and hurried a bale to the next, who did the same, with the final Hougan neatly stacking it in the barn. And who stood at the front of the chain? No other than 54. I chuckled to myself, feeling a strange kind of pride. He had figured it out.

"Wait..." Jick said, dumbfounded. "Are they..."

"They are moving the hay bales more efficiently," I said, unable to keep the shine out of my voice.

"How did they..." He looked as if they had all just piled out of a clown car, but then got serious again. "Still, we can't have hougen sling heavy objects about."

"Hey! Don't shit on their accomplishments!" I defended. "Just go... Actually, I will go and talk to them about safety."

"I don't know..." What was this? Jick insisting on taking his job seriously?

"Well, I could always just get those reports from you instead..."

"Alright, fine! Get out of here and don't come back for three days."

"It's two..." He waved me away as he retreated back the way we came.

"Is it a good idea to just let the hougen throw stuff?" The workhand said, hand stretching his face.

"Just don't stand in front of a throw'en hougen..." Jick's voice cut off as he turned around a cottage.

The hougen known as 54 wiped the sweat off his brow as I approached. No telling how long it would have taken four hougen to move those man-crushing hay bales the traditional way, but they had finished by the time I arrived.

"Well, that was pretty clever," I said, assessing the area the bales had occupied.

"Oh... It's you again." He said, his voice a droll monotone, with just a hint of inflection. Apparently, he hadn't expected me to return, though it was hard to tell.

"Not many humans would have thought of that." Though that might be on account of them not thinking. "I'd pat your shoulder, but I'm afraid I wouldn't reach..." This time, he stared silently at me, confused, though his facial expressions were hard to read. Blushing, I averted my eyes, realizing my stupid joke. "What is your name?"

"Name... The humans call me 54."

"Pff, that's your slave name... And an extra insulting one at that," I muttered. "I mean, what is your real name?"

"...Real name?" He raised a massive hand to his face.

"You know. The one your mother..." Wait, did they have mothers? I'm sure they had someone who filled the biological role, but did that extend to a social role? "The one that your fellow hougen gave you?"

More staring. Hardly a perplexing question, and just after I had given him props. But after a long moment. "Hougen don't give names. Humans give names."

"You mean they give you one at birth?" Damnable humans, taking even this piece of culture from them.

"I don't know. We don't give names."

"Well, you should!" I shouted. Somebody needed to be angry. "You should give each other names in defiance!"

He scratched his head, even more confused now. "But we don't give names. Giving names is a human thing." I chambered a fully uncensored tirade, ready to unload to anyone within earshot. Had they brainwashed them so much?? "Hougen are just fine using... ad...jec...tives... and description."

A gasket sprung a leak. "...Adjective?" Not to be dismissive, but I hadn't expected such a word to pass through hougen lips. 54 straightened up, and what I assumed was a smile crossed his wide jaws—hard to tell.

"I learned it," he said, pressing his chest out to the point it nearly tore through his roughspun shirt. "We use adjectives... to know what hougen we are talking about."

"Wait..." All the hot air began leaking out. "Could you give an example?"

"Like tallest, or smallest, or biggest, or best maker of noise, or the one who eats slow."

"I see..." So they give names based on characteristics? But that didn't seem right. "What do the hougen use for you?"

"Usually 'the smart one', or sometimes 'the one who stands around a lot'" I got it! They literally just describe the individual they are referring to, and it is completely informal. I guess, humans wouldn't be too keen on that system, nor would I, for that matter.

"Well, I can see why they would use intelligence as a distinguishing feature for you."

"I am... smarter than your average hougen!" He said with gusto... or what passes for gusto in a hougen.

"Pff..." I tried to hold back my laughter as my cheeks inflated and my mouth strained to remain sealed, but to no avail. "Pff-pff hahaha..." Once it came out, my mirth ran like a river after the spring thaw. I held my side as my intercostal muscle cramped up, and soon after, found myself rolling around on the ground. Why was it so funny? Perhaps because it was a call back to my previous life, to previous commitments, that I shouldn't take life too seriously—I had vowed that once, and it had come from a most unexpected source.

During my laughing fit, I could only imagine his utter bewilderment. But I eventually got myself under control.

"Hehe..." I wiped the tears from my eyes, still laughing, "Well, if the human won't give you a proper name, then I will. From this day forward, you are Yogi!"

"...Yogi?"

"That's right." He didn't know what to make of that, so he just remained silent.

The sound of running footfalls disrupted the moment, and a boy about a foot taller than I stopped and held out a folded piece of paper. "Jick asked me to give this to you." How surprising. I took it and unfolded it, revealing an account of the village's production.

"Well... I thought he wanted to put this off. Guess he had a change of heart." My face quirked, bewildered. "Thanks..." I felt like I should give him something for his troubles. "I would give you something, but they don't pay slaves, unfortunately." He shrugged and ran off.

"What does it say?" Yogi's voice seemed louder. I turned and found his face craned down, not more than a foot away. Reflexively, I stumbled back.

"Oh! Umm..." Regaining my composure. "It is just a list of the plantations' output..." He looked really intently at the piece of paper in my hands. "Did you want to look at it yourself?" His massive head nodded. I hadn't seen him do that yet.

I handed him the paper, and he pinched it with wrist-sized fingers—human wrist—straightening up and holding it in front of his face. He stared. Now that I thought about it…

"Yogi, can you read?"

"...No." His hand dropped. He seemed ashamed? Disappointed maybe? "They won't... teach me to read. They say... hougen are too... stupid."

My indignation flared. "But you are smarter than your average hougen!" He gave what I assumed to be a shrug. "Well, that does it! If they won't teach you to read, then I will!"

"You will?" He snapped up.

"That's right," I said with righteous anger. "And we will start with this note right here!"