"Su-sugar?" Harry answered, lowering his gaze toward the beautiful bowl, with its edges covered with a nice design of flowers, and he seemed to hesitate.
“Yes, thank… Thank you…”.
"You’re welcome," the scientist added while smiling, knowing that the man had been known to be fond of sweetness.
Awkwardly, neglecting the sugar tong placed alongside the bowl, Harry took a piece of sugar between two of his thick fingers, and then his hand went over his cup. Inside the cup, the red liquid had stopped whirling.
Watching the scene in fascination, Professor Harding was waiting for the fingers to release into it the piece.
The colossus threw the piece of sugar into his open mouth, surprising the scientist. He crushed it briskly between his teeth, and small bits were spit with force from his open mouth, toward one of the scientist's eyes who luckily closed it by reflex.
With his unspoilt eye Theodore saw Harry take the bowl in his hand, letting all the remaining sugar pieces fall into his huge open mouth. Many pieces fell noisily on the table in front of him, and, miraculously, a few in his cup of coffee. This caused an impressive spattering, soiling the beautiful white tablecloth which was underneath.
Professor Harding, still seated on his chair, became tense while watching - and hearing - the big colored man in front of him munching the pieces of sugar. Some of them stuck out, tossed between his partly decayed teeth, as he looked strangely at the Scientist.
All of a sudden Harry threw his big hand in front of him, making Harding lean back while protecting his face with his hands. Eyes closed, the scientist was already feeling the strong pull of the giant's hand on one of his arms, and his bite.
Seconds passed by but the pull and the bite weren't coming.
It had only been his imagination, apparently. Hesitating to open his eyes and to confront reality, he only heard a flowing sound. Finally opening his eyes to see his own arms, crossed in front of his face to protect himself, he slowly spread them, seeing...
Harry had his head in a reclined position, holding the very hot metallic dispenser like a toy in his big hand, and was gulping the coffee, via its pouring spout, inside his opened mouth. The boiling dark liquid inundated his mouth and trickled heavily toward his ears.
Goggling at him, Harding saw some steam come out of the burnt mouth of the big man.
After many seconds the liquid stopped pouring from the now empty dispenser, and Harry placed it heavily on the table with a thump. Looking at Professor Harding with red, glowing eyes, the colossus opened his big mouth, which was a mess of brownish liquid and dissolved sugar, and shouted, coffee gushing out, "Get out of here!"
Theodore didn't need to be told twice and he ran toward the door of the cell, which was swiftly opened by a frightened aide.
As soon as the door was closed behind him Harry leapt toward him, overturning the tea table in his way, scattering dishes, cutlery and chairs. He violently hit the bars, his huge head between them, watching him, a vague look on his face.
Looking behind, the scientist sighed, reassured to see that the colossus was blocked in front of the bars of the door of the cell.
That's when the giant extended an arm and seized him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him violently back.
"Help me!" the skewed scientist shouted.
His back crashed into the metallic bars as another muscular arm wrapped around his neck. His now painful back pressed against the bars.
His collaborator and a colleague of his arrived, at the same time as he felt the warm breath of the man along his neck, near his jugular vein.
Suddenly Professor Harding was violently shaken by an electric shock, making him yell. The shock ceased as quickly as it had arrived. As soon as the surge had passed, he felt his knees tremble, and slowly began to crouch, still held by the massive arm. He understood vaguely, his mind clouded because of what he had just passed through.
His aides had tasered Harry.
The dark arm which was still holding him had transmitted the dozens of thousands of volts by conduction. Apparently, it had been efficient, since he felt the weakening of the pressure on his throat.
All of a sudden, he heard a deafening bear-like growl coming from behind and the arm at his throat tightened again.
"Give him some more!" shouted one of the two men to the other while Harding, his head still in a reclined position because of the arm, could only have a glimpse of the worried aide. The professor whispered with difficulty, "Noooo", not willing to endure another electrocution session.
A new electric shock made him tremble violently as he saw the world around him becoming a mess of colors, seconds seeming like centuries.
The shocks ceased at last, once again, and in a daze, he saw more than he felt himself collapse on the cold floor. The pressure on his throat had at last disappeared, and the only thing he felt, now, was the huge, warm mass of Harry, slumped against his back, through the bars.
Astonishingly, that warmth made him plunge even quicker toward a welcomed unconsciousness.
***
"What happened to him?"
The shouting made Professor Harding awake, and opening his eyes, he looked at Johnny who was kneeling in front of him. The scientist realized that the young colored man's knees were on the cold floor of the room, and that he himself was lying on it, on his back.
"Answer me, what did you do to him?" Johnny asked again, grabbing him by the throat just like his father, a moment ago.
The scientist's face took on a scarlet color, as he tried to make the pressure release on his throat.
"Give the professor a break, let him go," one of the aides shouted at the young man, clearly angry. The man grabbed the forearm of the young black to force him to release him.
With the other hand Johnny violently pushed him, making him yell while falling on his back. The young colored man lifted the scientist onto his feet, putting him back against one of the walls of the gloomy room.
Professor Harding looked Johnny in the eye, seething inside, as he felt himself being pressed against the surface.
"That's enough!" Harding shouted, freeing his throat from the young man's grip, and rejecting his hand violently with both of his, pushing him in turn backwards.
"I don’t allow you to rush my staff!"
The scientist's face was purple with rage while he recovered, putting himself in a more stable position against the wall.
"What did you do to him?" cried Johnny, pointing with an index finger at his father who was kneeling on the floor, behind the bars of the door of the cell, looking haggard. A mix of coffee and sugar was trickling down the corners of his mouth, the liquid staining brown his white T-shirt. The electrodes, connected by wires to the taser, were still sunk into his neck. Dark blood was slowly pouring from the wounds in which the electrodes were planted.
The professor cleared his throat and, sighing deeply while looking the young man in the eyes, he shouted, "We're trying to heal your father while avoiding being killed by him, trying to survive during the process... Now get out of here!"
The scientist had pointed a finger, peremptorily, at the open entrance behind Johnny.
Looking at the index finger the young man chuckled, looking defiantly Harding in the eye. The latter was clearly surprised and he lowered his hand, but remained calm.
Professor Harding sighed a bit and, looking right in the eye of the colored man, he added, "You show a clear lack of self-discipline, when you react like that... I wonder what Hiroto, your beloved Sensei, would think about that?"
The name of his Master had a sudden effect on Johnny, who was baffled. But he snapped, "My father is becoming a monster, and you're not helping him in any way... he's only your guinea pig!"
A tear began to flow down one of the young man's cheeks as he watched his father, who looked at him with his red eyes... as if he was his son... or his prey?
Observing him quietly, Harding calmed down and said, with a soft voice now, "Turn back home... and be ass
ured that, despite the appearances, we're doing everything we can to help your dad." Having said that, the scientist put a friendly hand on one of the young man's shoulders and murmured, "Go... Johnny… Please."
He withstood the scrutiny of Harding a few seconds more, but the latter remained tough, despite his thinner, more delicate build.
Finally, Johnny lowered his gaze. His glimpsed at his father, saw that one of the two aides was freeing the electrodes, after having switched off the taser. The second electrode, reddened by blood, was as easy as the previous one to extract from the sweaty, dark skin of his father.
The latter roared as soon as the second electrode had quit his skin.
He reached out with a big hand, making the aide jump back, just avoiding being caught. The man's back hit a nearby wall, the back of his head striking the concrete surface. Simultaneously, his colleague aimed at the colored colossus with his own taser, having been ready to shoot, just in case.
Harry uttered a terrifying howling, which had nothing human about it. He extended his long arm even further between the bars, the fingers of his big hand opened as a claw, trying to touch the aide who was still standing in front of the wall. The latter, wavering against it, seemed to be recovering. Having been half knocked out, he was, fortunately for him, out of reach.
"Mister Johnny Jackson, you should go," said Professor Harding, looking at him with a severe gaze.
"Ye... yes," the young man stuttered, taking his eyes off the depressing scene of his father, or at least what remained of him. Johnny put his attention back on the man he had previously pushed aside, and who was now up again, and was looking at him hard.
The young black man murmured, "Sorry," and wiping a tear trickling down one of his cheeks, he ran out of the room. Just as he was beginning to run into the nearby hallway he almost bumped into Red, who had been standing near the door. Surprised, Johnny murmured an excuse. Averting her gaze, his eyes now red because of the tears, he continued his stroke in the corridor, without a backward glance or saying another word.
The young red-haired girl looked at him as he was going away, and then turned her attention toward Harding, who was watching the scene in the doorway. Their eyes met, and he looked at her coolly. The gray eyes encircled by the metal of his spectacles challenged the coldness of her own green eyes.
He finally closed the door in her face. She was left blustering, while standing in front of it.
The scientist then looked back in the cell, where Harry was still kneeling. Harding had a look at the floor, which was littered with thousands of pieces of ceramic, being picked up by his men.
That beautiful tea set that I inherited from Mom!
A grimace emerged on his face.
***
Democracy
Joshua Adams, couch potato extraordinaire, was sitting at a magnificent oak table, watching with delight the Community's only television channel - his channel.
Couch potato he was, yes, but he was also a lavish gourmet, having begun to eat a delicious spicy marinated chicken, cooked following the purest Louisiana tradition. It was served with sautéed potatoes in Cajun sauce, potatoes melting in the mouth, but also with an exquisite rosé from his personal cellar, originating from Anjou.
He chewed with delight, while he gladly watched democracy at work – in the manner of the Community.
"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening," said a young news presenter with a flawless tie and smile, continuing, "We are here to talk about the forthcoming elections to elect the next Administrator, who will lead the Community during the four coming years. Let's indeed applaud the fact that we are a democratic society - in fact, the only known of the remaining human society."
An audience sitting behind him applauded slightly. They sounded unconvinced, and they all seemed resigned to the situation, their dull faces denoting even less excitement than the light, unconvinced hand clapping of their applause.
The presenter continued, "For twelve years already, the Community has grown and even prospered, thriving under the aegis of Joshua Adams, the current Administrator."
This sentence made Adams smile, while he was chewing a piece of heavily peppered chicken. He had a few sips of his glass of rosé, enjoying its fruity taste which was softening his mouth, while the presenter, clearly totally on his side, continued, "Facing such effectiveness, it's not clear who will dare challenge him and ... "
"He will do it!"
That voice that Adams recognized startled him, making him half-choke on the rosé, coughing now, as he watched the camera leave the presenter to point to Larry Lafayette, in another part of the studio.
The seated audience, surprised, was looking at him, standing in front of them and turned toward the young presenter.
Disconcerted, the latter walked up to the old agronomist with a warm smile and asked, "Him? Uh ... You, do you mean? Am I to understand that you are officially going to run in the election, against Joshua Adams? "
"Not me," said the old black man, still smiling, and as he spoke, he pulled away to show, focusing with a hand, Hiroto, who had been standing behind him.
The Asian, wearing his usual modest smile, leaned slightly forward, in a rather shy Japanese salute, but remained silent.
The presenter smirked and, as he aimed a wireless microphone toward the old man's face, he asked, "What is your political agenda?" "
"My program?" the old Japanese man said quietly, obviously intimidated, before his smile disappeared and he resumed his impassive face to say, "My program can be summed up into one, unique word. Clarity. "
"Clarity?" asked the young man, with a bit of mockery, which could be discerned in the tone of his voice.
"Yes, clarity," retorted Hiroto. "Clarity about the actual resources of the Community, about the sharing of these... Many poor people are obliged to tighten their belts, while some others seem to be strangely favored... I would, wholeheartedly, like to put an end to all of this. "
Always seated in front of the screen, Adams swallowed the rest of his glass of wine and looked at the screen in a dirty way.
He suddenly threw his glass on the floor. The sound of the breaking glass disturbed the silence in which the old Master had buried himself, now watching the presenter coldly, without saying anything more.
"These are really serious charges you are laying, Mr. Hiroto Miyasaki," said the young presenter, looking stern. "You are a teacher of martial arts unanimously known and respected in the Community, more known for your silence and discretion and, above all, more modest than many... "
"Yes," Larry said, interrupting the young man, seeing his old Japanese friend hesitating to speak again. "He is modest, so modest, that he didn't want to apply by himself. Knowing his popularity here, and sharing his views on the sometimes oddly made shares, I pushed him to introduce himself. He has the wisdom and the experience of life necessary to bring new breath to the last survivors of humanity that we are!"
Several people sitting on the benches near them applauded, smiling, as the presenter turned to them, surprised as much as Hiroto when Larry grasped one of his hands and lifted it up in the air, as though he were already the winner by knockout of the forthcoming democratic boxing match.
Adams looked at the screen in bewilderment as the young presenter, near them, looked toward the camera, aghast, as if he wanted to ask him directly which procedure he had to follow.
"This is definitely a scoop," said the presenter, as he turned his attention away from the camera before adding, "Democracy within the Community remains clearly alive, and today, offers us many surprises during this election year which... "
"TV, turn off!" thundered Adams' voice, his face now red with anger.
The 3D TV switched off, and the image of the presenter, of the public, and Larry with Hiroto, who was embarrassed with a raised arm, disappeared.
But before the image had disappeared the Administrator saw on the old Japanese man's face the sketching of another, modest smile, full of human warmth.
Si
lence had returned inside the old Administrator's luxurious dining-room, who, leaning his head downward, uttered a curse.
The rosé had left a slight pink trace on the top of his impeccable white shirt, hitherto immaculate. The trace was clearly visible above his enormous belly that could not hide the bottom of the shirt, a belly making him looking pregnant.
"You saw, like me, what happened on TV, right now?" a voice boomed, obviously electronically distorted, a voice that made the old politician flinch in his comfortable seat.
The old man replied, trying to clean up the pink spot with a towel, "Yes, I saw!", as he was at the same time glancing at the intercom on the table.
"It's embarrassing," continued the distorted voice, grave and profound, as if coming from beyond the grave. "Troubling and annoying."
"Admittedly," Adams replied, whose puffy face grew less red, and even picked up colors, as a wicked smile began to cross his face while he continued, "Regarding embarrassment and annoyance in general, believe me, I'll always be able to get rid of them, after decades of survival in the political arena... But I'll need your help in order for us to continue to do business together."
"I am listening, Administrator Adams," replied the disembodied voice, an air of perceptible interest in the words.
As he spoke, Adams' smile widened, and wickedness sparkled in his little pig-like eyes.
***
Surprise
It was dark in this cramped place, where one could hear, from time to time, groans and complaints, alternating with roars and tears. Glowing eyes could be discerned in the darkness, which was total.
Hungry Series: Tomes 1 & 2 Page 14
