Taboo

“I am here because I killed a body of Water. 

Wasted It, against the very wishes of Its Will, divine It be. I have committed treason, against the peace of the nations, against the stewards whose only wish is to protect and bless us. And so, now I am drying out, eking out life-blood for my sins.

Look at me. My skin flaking, shrivelling. My inner Waters running dry. Look! My leakage corrupts and yellows further with each cycle of the Fire. Yes. I solemnly declare that I deserve all this, as it is just. It is Divine retribution. Soothing is the name of God.

Listen to me, young ones. Keep your Waters pure, listen to the Wills of Water, and give thanks for Its nourishment. The bodies of Water are sacred, so love and conserve them. A crime against Water is a crime against your God. Righteous is the name of God. Respect It, and you will be accepted in the Tranquil Aqualine Halls. Blessed is the name of God. Take It for granted, and in the best-case scenario, you will end up here, you will end up like me. Unworthy of love, forbidden to the touch, an unperson. All-knowing is the name of God.

Alright. I'm done.” I lick my lips.

The six rows of frozen faces blink as they hungrily scour my features. Silence.

Panicking, my mind starts to race, flogged by the remaining strands of self-preservation I have left. I didn’t veer off the script, did I? Holy saints, help me if I get one detail wrong. Painstakingly, I rewind the performance in my head. My eyes Water, but I stand as still as possible, restraining urges to lunge for the cup on the bedside table. Another mistake is another drought. No, no, I am experienced, lucid now, cunning now, I will not surrender yet, cannot suffer yet another depletion of my reserves, that would be bad, be nerve-wracking. The mind scrambles. A moment like this coagulates into hate heating, seething within, the head pounds, swelling too loud in the silence. It breaks.

The silence breaks, and the students chatter in high tones as they file out of the room row by row, leaving only wisps of their breaths, a sweet, sweet humidity that I drink in from my nostrils. 

The Hydroan warden nods imperceptibly and leaves after them. Finally.
As the doors click shut, my cuffs pop open. I rub my arms, feeling a weak tingling of blood lethargically crawling back to its steadier pace. The restraints were for the safety of the terrestrial students, they said, but I am sure they hold more symbolic—or theatrical—purposes.

I lean into the cubby of my allocated wall. I reach for the cup. Every movement hurts here, apparently as a testament to my crime. My throat burns from the speech. Parched. I lower my garments with shaking fingers, set the cup between my legs, and began waiting. My tongue seems more gummed up than usual.

A flaring burn builds. Then, a tinkle of pee reaches my ears, and I slowly release the breath I didn't know I had been holding. I quietly stare at the cup as it whirs in tune with the distiller. Its technology does not intrigue me anymore. The cup stops vibrating, and I drink.

One sip. Godless, they call me. A primitive parasite fully denied of Water's life-giving blessings. My mouth barely registers the moisture. One sip. A worthless wretch, doomed to cycle my own fluids over and over again until I dry out like a raisin. One more sip, and the cup will be empty.

I allow myself a wry grin at the senselessness of it all. The embassy of Earth has had no success yet in requesting a pardon for my release. But I don't think it matters anymore. Here on Hydroa’s Utopia, I am a living taboo. Displayed as an example for all, all for spilling a damn cup of water.

I pray for the water on Earth as I take the last sip.

KATRINA

“Mom, Dad, I need to tell you guys something.”

Liang’s parents looked up from their dinner. In the choking silence, his mother’s chopsticks had paused over the beef plate and his father’s incessant chewing stopped. Liang looked away from their emotionless anticipation, his gaze instead finding the wall-mounted Malayan tiger’s head behind them. Its wide-eyed, terrorised expression seemed to beckon his words out.

“I…” He hesitated. Come on, he chided to himself. You’ve prepared for this. They’d find out one way or another. The truth. Say it.

Liang inhaled deeply. “I…I’m an environmental activist.”

His parents’ expressions shifted. Now Liang appeared to be facing two more tigers.

“You’re what?” his father shouted furiously.

Liang sagged his shoulders miserably, regret sinking in . “Dad, hear me out. I’m still your son.”

“Our son is not an…environmental activist,” his mother hissed disgustedly. She slammed her chopsticks onto the table and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Now what? This is going to be an embarrassment.”

“Liang, you listen here,” Dad said sternly. “Your mother and I have worked hard to be the most respected poachers in the world. No, not just poachers. People. We have a responsibility! And you—you—will not ruin it because of some phase.”

“It’s not a phase, Dad!” Liang argued. His friends at the conservation centre were right. It would take too much for them to understand. “Poaching…hunting those animals…you won’t see them anymore once you’ve killed them all.”

“That’s not true.” Liang’s mother pointed at the tiger’s head. “We can still see them.”

“No! I mean alive, Mom. And you’ve no idea about—”

“Enough, Liang!” his father interrupted. “You stop this now. I don’t care who or what is making you delusional. In this society, no one is going to treat you like a real man if you keep rambling about environmental activism!”

“Oh really, Dad? At least I’m not lying about being a climate change activist, right?”

The words shot from Liang’s mouth like a ball of fire. His mother gasped in horror. He didn’t care.

“Hong, what is he saying?!” she demanded.

“I—” his father tried. He shifted nervously in his seat. “That was—that was in the 80s! It wasn’t taboo then!” He stood from the table and gazed longingly at the tiger. Minutes passed until he spoke again.

“I was a different man then. A boy, stuck in the wrong crowd, mindlessly declaring false news about climate change and melting ice caps. Once I realised it was wrong, it took me decades to rebuild myself. I hunted tigers and elephants and tapirs. I printed paper one-sided. I worked endlessly finning sharks so I could make my name and provide the best for this family.” He looked back at Liang. “And if you can’t appreciate that, you don’t need to be a part of it.”

Liang swallowed, glaring at his own father. No worth. “Fine.” He stood. It’d been impossible from the start. “Guess I’ll just stay with my boyfriend.”

“Wait, your what?!”