Literature
Lagos and Liv: A Casual Anniversary
Work sucks. It especially sucks when your job is the last of the specific industry you do, or in other words: you’re the last bakery on Earth. Hours pass by already arduously, and had for years and years before, and Liv had known this all too well. The familiarity of doing this on her own, of cycling through ingredients like a giddy rich guy in a brothel. She’d long since gotten used to doing everything on her own, and often zoned out while making dough. So when Lagos’ hand touched her shoulder, she mildly jumped, before recalling that this year was not like the others, and things had changed, for once the consistency had been made inconsistent, and for once, she felt a renewed vigor in her work. Perhaps it was him, perhaps his presence alone permitted that feeling, or perhaps she was, like all other people, projecting her own assumptions onto him. She’d been alone for so long, that’d become easy to do, looking at the lines in someone’s face and seeing a history and person entirely constructed from one’s mind and it’s interpretations of small talk. But she was certain this was different, more distinct, an attachment of some kind formed that was not her own construction solely. Lagos was a wonderful man, the only reason she had to believe that it was entirely of her own making was isolation paranoia, of course he was the reason she felt some renewed vigor. Isolation, however social, can leave quite the effect on the mind. For dough in need of very stringent kneading, this made the bread better, one’s hands can transform any emotion into energy, and render a lump of fresh dough into a gourmet baked good. “You doing alright?” He inquired, as she looked down at her current work, eyes widened, “You’ve been kneading that for a while now.” Liv nodded, and blushed, “Being so big, and then finally getting back to size reawakens some crap from before you’d been awakened.” She caressed his face and looked into his eyes, “I just zonked the fuck out and needed a bit of corraling back to Terra Firma.” Lagos nodded, “Happens,” he kisses her forehead, “I can tell when the stars shift from your eyes and into your head. You get all up inside there and stuff.” Liv nods and leans her head into him and sighs the kind of sigh one makes when a sort of relief is finally found in contrast to melancholy, “I’m glad you’re here.” she murmured. “Not just for the help with the bakery and more fruitful endeavors,” Liv looked into his eyes, “but just for these kinds of moments.” Lagos smirked a scoundrels grin, the same kind of grin old western films and space operas had their more stuffy looking heroes use. “I wouldn’t want anything else in the universe.” He pulled away, and looked about the kitchen, “Let’s get finished, I found a few programs from ages ago, and I think they’re in just enough working order for them to be watchable.” Liv raised a brow, “Any specifics?” “No spoilers. It’s an anniversary surprise.” Liv nodded, “Not gonna be like the last surprise, right? I thought you’d managed to-” “I wanted to try making pigs in a blanket, it was worth a shot.” “Yes, but half the needed ingredients are entirely nonexistent. And substituting rations made it just a bit more concerning.” “That shade of red haunts my dreams too.” Liv goes back to kneading dough, as Lagos rolls out some pastry dough and begins lining a few makeshift baking tins to craft pies. He then grins and paces over to Liv, “Few weeks ago you’d be right at home in a tin like this.” Her amused grin contrasted her dagger gaze, “And I’m sure cannibalism, no matter the percentage fruit-like someone is, would still be on some level frowned upon.” Lagos chuckled, as Liv rolled her eyes. Work was getting to be a bit much, and they were both stir crazy. “Let’s just make the remaining batch,” Liv proposed, “should be a slow day tomorrow anyway, we’ll have leftovers regardless.” Her spouse nodded, “Sounds good.” A few hours later, after their daily product was baked in the oven, Lagos and Liv huddled together and began to watch the old programs. These were markedly aged, pieces of old solid state drives and so on which would be barely usable where we are, were just as nearly unusable for them. But given a few jimmied wires, and a few stitched together pieces of old tech, they worked. A rather old man stood on screen, and pointed to a mound of dark writhing things called ants, his accent elongated a few of his vowels, and the creatures seemed to be using their bodies as a method of warming their colony with the heat of the sun. It was a fascinating piece on a supposedly unique collection of apparently distinct colonies all working in collaboration in the Alpine Mountains. “Strange to think how long ago this was, what kind of a person this Attenborough guy is.” Liv postulates. “Yea… the cool part is how civilized it makes them all seem. I wonder how long they lasted.” Liv nods, “I’m surprised how well preserved this is, the last of these docs we found practically fell apart after watching, this is pristine compared to it.” Lagos nodded, “Though, to be fair that was a mishmash of parts. I think I had to run it through a few different things to get it to work properly.” “Yea… every time you come back with new tidbits of old media, it makes me giddy. You always find the best things.” “I know where to look, just because something has been looked over by some weirdo searching for old history doesn’t mean they’ve found it all. Some of it they discard, just cause they don’t think it’s relevant.” Liv playfully banged a fist on the arm of the chair, “Relevancy be damned, I’ll take ant documentaries any day over their reconstructed histories.” The screen flickered off, as the couple held each other gently. It was nice, it was quiet, it was awkward and it was good, the kind of good that doesn’t really spoil once it’s done. “Now that we’ve done that… I’ve got a surprise for you.” Liv murmured, squeezing Lagos’ face. She pointed towards the bedroom, and smirked, “In five minutes, meet me in there.” Her grin was mischievous, and Lagos nodded. He waited the allotted time, and approached the door, slowly opening it to peer in, as the scent of pumpkin spice filled the room. His heart skipped a beat, the sweet scent was a rarity, and he was certainly happy to breathe it in. “Whoa… where’d you find the-” He paused, locking eyes with Liv, who now found herself in a newfound predicament. “I will disclose, I did not intend for this to happen.” She explained, cradling her swelling middle which had shifted to a shiny orange color. “And I’m almost certain you can’t easily juice a pumpkin.”
