Baby Problem

Nervousness would be an understatement.  What Gaia felt at the doctor’s waiting room had no entry in any dictionary in the universe.  Everything, including her future, depended on the test result.  The plush leather sofa she sat on did not calm her nerves.  She stared right across the hall where a mahogany door stood between her and the man who would tell her the most important news of her life.  A plaque on the door informed visitors that his name was Doctor Rock.  At the moment, the doctor had another patient, so said the bored receptionist at the front desk.  There was nothing she could do but read.  A magazine with a cover depicting a woman holding a baby aroused her interest.  The baby’s face was so irresistible that she couldn’t help but pick up the magazine and start browsing through the articles.  They were very helpful.  But would they be helpful to her?  She couldn’t help but think.  Before long, the door opened.  A woman walked out holding a beautiful baby.  She wondered if she would ever have the chance.  A man followed.  He was tall with thick facial hair covering his long chin and his big ears.  A name tag on his long white coat confirmed that he was indeed doctor Rock.

“Thank you for everything, doctor,” said the woman.

“You’re welcome.  Goodbye Ms. Puck.” replied the doctor with a soothing voice.  He took the couple to the exit and came back for Gaia.

“Ms. Gaia.  Please come in.”

“Very well.”  Gaia entered the doctor’s office.  Pictures of men and women holding a baby spread across the room like stars in the vacuum of space.

“Please sit down.”

She sat down on one of the two chairs located on one side of a work table while the doctor took his on the other side.  His face suddenly became serious and Gaia knew instantly what was coming.

“The test results had been delivered to me.  I’m afraid it’s bad news.”

The next hour went like a blur.  Walking from the hospital to her work office, all she could hear was Doctor Rock's verdict in her head over and over and over.  “You can't have a baby,” said the doctor.  How was she going to tell Mick?  Their relationship of two years was in jeopardy.  Mick insisted that a baby was essential if they were to continue.  She entered her laboratory where she had met him, though shorter than the average man, possessed just a slight hint of nerdiness that she always found attractive.  She had just moved in, a stranger in a strange place, and he made her comfortable and welcome.  While others simply scorned her, he taught her the different units of measurement that they used, which was different from where she came from.  Since then, he had moved up and became a senior supervisor.  Consequently, their relationship evolved.  Sooner or later, the question of a baby would surface.  And sooner or later, she had to tell him.

She gathered her courage and went up to the eight floor, the supervisor's office.  The four tube-shape elevators tirelessly took tenants and visitors up and down the life science research center.  From there, she could see the majestic mountain range overlooking the small town, protecting it from danger.  The lucky ones had the same view from their office windows.  She was not one of them but it served as a motivation to perform well.  That thought had to be kept for now though, as the elevator stopped at the intended destination.  Gaia quietly walked towards the supervisor office, contemplating the bad news she had to deliver to Mick.  There was no way back once she walked into his office.

“Mick, can I talk to you?”

“Oh hey, Gaia.  Sure, what is it?”

“I just came from Doctor Rock.”

“Not good news, I presume.  I know that look.  Just tell me.”

“He said I can't have a baby.”

“I see.”

“So, what now?”

“There’s nothing to decide.  It's over.”

“I fear as much.”

“Don't cry.  You're a brilliant woman.  You'll be fine without me.”

“But I hate leaving you.”

“So do I, Gaia.  But without the possibility of a baby, we can't continue.”

And that was that.  She had to make a decision.  Should she stay?  Or should she go?  She loved the place, no doubt about that, but she had to think about her own future.  If her future was elsewhere, she had to follow it.  There was no place for sentimentality.  With that thought, she prepared for her departure.  She contacted her travel agent, and her ticket home was booked.  One week was enough time to prepare, and one week passed rapidly.

Gaia always marveled at Anisa Space Port.  There was nothing like it on earth.  Through the port she arrived two years ago as earth's ambassador of life science, and through the same port she would return to earth.  Everyone was there.  Mick, Doctor Rock and Professor Rick, the director of the research center waited at the departure lounge to say goodbye.

“Gaia, I want you to know that we are sad to let you go,” the professor opened the conversation.

“Looks like everyone's here to witness my failure,” said Gaia half-jokingly.

“It's not failure, Ms. Gaia,” said Doctor Rock.  “It's just biological incompatibility.  The babys are such delicate creatures.  Fourteen fingers are required to handle one.  As we all know, you humans only have ten.  We tried everything we could.  Prosthetic fingers, gloves, anything.  They just won't work.”

“I wish you call it something else.  Baby is the word we use for human offspring.  It's very confusing sometimes.”

“I'm sorry for the confusion.  That is just what we call it,” said the doctor apologetically.

“And Mick, thank you for being my mentor even though it didn't work out.”

“It's such a shame, you mastered the theory very well,” said Mick.  “Before you go, someone wants to say goodbye to you.”

Mick opened his bag and took out a creature, which the Anisans called the baby.  It needed to be handled very carefully, as he did.  Using both hands, his ten fingers provided a resting berth for its belly while his four thumbs curled around its spine.  He had to be careful not to let its body bend or it would die.

“Sisi, say goodbye to Gaia.”

“Oh, Sisi!”  Gaia immediately reached out her hand to the creature that had caused her resignation.  “Can I touch it?”

“Of course.”

She put her right index finger on the creature's head.  The skin was soft and slimy but it was hard to the touch, due to the skull protecting its brain.  Its 3 purple eyes lie on the center of the head, unlike the reptiles on earth.  It opened its mouth for a split second, revealing its flat molar teeth, typical of herbivores.  She ran her finger down its spine, feeling its scaly exterior.  Its tail wiggleed as she touched it.  With six legs, it was the rarest reptile in the universe and would have been popular with earth children but it wasn't to be.

“I have to go now, my spaceship is about to leave.”

Gaia hugged each of the Anisan men as they said goodbye.  As the Saturn Spaceline flight 138 took off, she could not help but wonder.  Would she miss Anisa?  Of course she would.  The beautiful views, the research center, the men with their long chins and big ears.  The future lied elsewhere though, she would not stop reminding herself.  Picking up her communication pad, she started to type her report: Due to biological incompatibility, Anisan babys are not recommended for human pets.

Sound of Fury

“One bowl of rice noodle, please.”

That's all it took for my whole body to enter military mode.  As soon as the gentleman in the next table ordered those cursed long pieces of cooked flour, I knew I couldn't stay.  The thought of someone slurping those things launched General Brain into action.  Red alert!  Corporal Mouth, finish the drink and ask the waiter for the check!  Sergeant Hand, prepare the money!  Make sure the payment is exact so we don't have to wait for the change.  Lieutenant Feet, get ready to get us out of here!

Misophonia.  That's what my condition is called.  It causes certain sounds like slurping and chewing to become the scream of a banshee inside my head.  I had planned to spend the afternoon reading my new book in a small cafe but it wasn't going to happen.  It was a small cafe, only slightly bigger than a squash court.  The six tables surrounded the bar area in an L-shaped formation.  Moving to a different table was not an option.  The slurping sound would have been audible anywhere in the room and the gentleman would have thought of me as rude.  I looked at my drink.  Fortunately, I had ordered a cold one.  The red, rosy strawberry smoothie that was meant to be my reading companion had to be gulped as quickly as possible.  It was still three quarters full, as it had only been sitting pretty on my table for five minutes.  “Check, please!”  I asked the waiter.  I turned to my smoothie.  My mouth turned into a powerful vacuum cleaner, sucking the red fluid with all its might.  Immediately a winter storm came into my head, giving goosebumps to brave General Brain.  Brr!  Good job, Corporal Mouth.  Keep at it!  Captain Eyes, be on the lookout for that bowl of rice noodle.  Right after I finished my drink, I saw the waiter coming out of the kitchen carrying a bowl.  That had to be the rice noodles.  The race is on!  Come on cashier!  Where's my check?  Right on cue, the cashier walked towards my table with the check but it looked like the race was lost.  The glassy, long and transparent devil's hair had been delivered and the gentleman was ready to send me to the torture chamber with his chopsticks.

As he took his first slurp, all hell broke loose inside my head.  Every nerve were assaulted by the sound-waves emanating from the next table.  The usually tough General Brain suddenly became weak, kneeling and begging for the sound waves to stop the assault.  Now, Lieutenant Feet!  Time to go!  No time was wasted in executing the order, as Lieutenant Feet were always reliable in this situation.  Always.  I put my money on the check tray and ran out of the cafe to the safety of my car.  I breathed heavily, hoping the other person didn't realize that I ran out because of him.  I never intended to cause offense for it is an involuntary reaction on my part.  It is a fight or flight response every time.  And I choose flight every time.

The Baker

Once upon a time, in the faraway Kingdom of Rafflesa, King George was enjoying a rare morning walk with daughter Princess Patricia.  Born twelve years ago, she was the only child and the heir to the throne.  It was a glorious autumn morning.  The citizens of Rafflesa were celebrating an abundant harvest.  As a tradition, the kingdom held a weeklong festival every year called Harvestfest.  It was a festival to celebrate the harvest season, filled with games and competitions.  The most prestigious of them all is the bakery competition.  Rafflesa was known throughout the land as the patisserie kingdom, where taste and quality were the standard of the world.  Every year many bakers participated in the contest, with the winner awarded the golden mitt. As they were conversing about this year’s Harvestfest, suddenly a loud voice was heard.

“Your Majesty, we are in big trouble!”

The King, unhappy that his father-daughter bonding time was disturbed, glared at the messenger and asked with an unpleasant tone, “What is it?”

The messenger, slightly gasping from running across the palace to the garden, answered, “Your Majesty, King Leopold from Juna wants to visit our Harvestfest and participate in the bakery competition.”

Upon hearing that name, King George became even more unhappy.  He still remembered the humiliation he and the kingdom suffered last year.  Due to failed wheat harvest, Rafflesa did not have enough wheat for the festival and the king had to import wheat from the neighbouring Kingdom of Juna.  In return, he allowed Juna’s bakers to enter the bakery competition, the first time foreigners were allowed to participate.  In a shock, Juna’s bakers did not just capture the golden mitt, they also placed second, leaving Rafflesa’s best baker third.  The jubilant King Leopold announced that Juna was the NEW patisserie kingdom.

“I suppose their champion from last year will enter again,” said the king worriedly.

“Yes, your majesty.  So will last year’s runner-up,” replied the messenger.

“Oh!  This won’t do.  We’re doomed!”  The king wailed as he started to walk back to the palace.  “We can’t have Juna win beat us two years in a row! “  Suddenly the king had an idea.  “Let’s bar them from the competition.  The arrangement was only for last year.  We did not buy wheat from them this year.”

“Father, we can’t.”  Patricia, who also followed her father back to the palace, reminded him.   “They have the golden mitt.  And the whole world will laugh at us if we are afraid of them and they will surely recognize Juna as the patisserie kingdom.”

“What should we do?”  The king asked as they entered the palace hall.

“Let me enter the competition, father.  I know I can win.”  Patricia said.

“Patty, this is a serious matter.  You are just a child.  Remember, you have to be sixteen to enter the competition.  And you should really be focusing on your studies, not baking.”  The king replied.  He then turned to his messenger.  “Get Chef Laura.  She’s the only one who can beat the bakers of Juna.”

“Sir, Chef Laura has retired for several years.  She has said she didn’t want to enter these competitions anymore,” the messenger said.

Patricia knew all about the legendary Chef Laura.  She won the Harvestfest bakery competition twenty times, more than any other baker in the kingdom.   Her cupcakes and éclairs were famous throughout the land and she owned ten patisseries, including two in Juna.  The princess had been inspired since Chef Laura herself provided the birthday cake for her fifth birthday party.  Secretly, Patricia started to learn how to bake without her father’s permission.

“Father, let’s visit the chef.  Maybe we can convince her to rejoin the competition.”  Patricia was excited at the prospect of visiting Chef Laura’s place.  It usually meant free cupcakes and éclairs.

“Very well,” said the king.  “Prepare the carriage.”

*

The gilded royal carriage pulled over in front of a small, one bedroom house.  For someone who didn’t know better, one would think the house was inhabited by a fairy tale character.  The walls were painted pink and the roof purple.  Green dots decorate the roof like stars in the sky.  The chimney was white and shaped like a chef hat.  Apple and orange trees gleefully welcomed visitors from the front yard.

Patricia quickly stepped out of the carriage and ran into the house without waiting for her father.  “Chef, are you home?  It’s me Patricia and the king.”

An elderly, plump woman stepped out of what looked to be the kitchen.  “Hello, Princess.  What brings you here?”  She took off her apron.  She was no stranger to the young lady as she often visited the Royal Primary School that the princess attended.  One of her patisseries had become the official caterer of the school.

“The king wants to speak to you about Harvestfest,” said Patricia as the king finally made his way into the house.

“The king’s here?  Oh dear.   I must get properly dressed.”

“At ease, chef,” said the king.  “We are not here on an official visit.  We would like you to reconsider your retirement and enter this year’s bakery competition.”

The experienced dough manipulator smiled softly.  “I have no desire to enter any competition, your majesty.”  Then she suddenly remembered.  “Oh, but your timing is perfect.  I just finished baking a new batch of cupcakes.  Let me get them for you.”  She disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared one minute later with a tray full of cupcakes.

“Oh, wow! Those looked delicious!”  Patricia immediately picked one up and took a bite.  “This is amazing!”

The king, having taken one himself, agreed.  “This is why we need you, chef.  Remember how Juna beat us last year.  We don’t want to lose twice in a row.”

“Oh yes.  Their beignets and bread puddings were delicious.”  Still, Chef Laura refused.  “It is time for the younger generation to shine.  But if you really want to beat the Juna chefs, I recommend that you let one of my students enter the competition.  She is the next big thing, I promise.  The problem is, she’s not yet sixteen.”

The king sighed.  “This won’t do.  The rule says you need to be sixteen to enter.”

“Then remove the age limit,” the chef suggested. “She’s your only hope to win back the golden mitt.”

The king saw that he had no choice and agreed.  “Very well.  I will remove the age limit and your student can register.”

“This should be fun,” said Patricia.  “We take our leave, chef.  Thank you for your suggestion.”

As the carriage headed back to the palace, the king couldn’t help but feel uneasy.  “I hope she’s right.  We are putting our honor in the hand of a child.”

“Don’t worry, father.  I know her student.  I’m sure she will win,” said Patricia trying to calm the king.

*

The Harvestfest was a success.  Every citizen was out in the streets singing and dancing.  Every food and drink stand was always filled with customers.  King Leopold had arrived the day before along with the two chefs, the previous year’s champion and runner-up.  As they were enjoying some food at the meat stand, King George and his daughter passed by to say hello.

“Leopold!” said the king.  “I hope you enjoy this year’s festival.”

“Hello my friend!  Thank you for your hospitality.  You remember my chefs, James and Calvin,” replied Leopold.

“Of course!  How can I forget the champion!  Chef James, are you ready to defend your title?” King George asked.

Chef James, who was slightly taller than his friend, bowed slightly.  “Your Majesty, no disrespect to your kingdom but I am sure we will take the top spots again.”

King George started to look nervous but Patricia stayed calm.  “Are your bakery as good as last year, Chef James and Chef Calvin?”

“Yes, princess.  We are happy with our results,” replied the shorter chef.

“I can’t wait to taste them,” said the princess.

The bakery competition was judged by a panel of six trained judges.  Each chef prepared their creation in secret and submitted them anonymously.  This was to prevent preferential judging by the judges.  The top three winners would be announced at the end of the fair and only then did everyone know the creators of the winning food.

“Looks like they’re ready to announce the winners,” the king informed the others.  “Let’s go to the bakery stand.”

The bakery stand was already crowded once they got there.  The king and princess proceeded to the seats specially reserved for them.  In front of them, 36 delicious-looking pastries were laid out for everyone to see.  They ranged from cupcakes to soufflés to crème brulees.  One food caught the king’s attention.

“Those cupcakes!”  The king pointed to plate of cupcakes topped with a white cream and a banana slice.  “That looks like a Chef Laura cupcake.  That must be her student’s.”

“Those beignets look similar to last year’s winners.  Must be Chef James’”, said Patricia while observing all the servings.  Each contestant must serve six of the same pastries to the judges and another six for display.

Suddenly a loud voice was heard from near the pastries.  “Ladies and Gentlemen!  The pastries had been judge!  It is time to announce the winners!”  Loud murmurs could be heard from the crowd as they listened to the Master of Ceremony.  Everyone was hoping neither of the Juna chefs’ entries would win it.  “The top three are…The Mouth Watering Buttermilk Beignets,  The Irresistible Cinnamon Raisin Bread Pudding and The Beautiful Banana Cupcake with Vanilla Cream!”

“Just as I thought,”sighed King George.  “The beignets and the bread puddings must be James and Calvin’s.  They’re serving the same thing from last year.”

“The cupcake will win, father.  It is Chef Laura’s student who made it,” said Patricia assuringly.

“Third place goes to….Chef Calvin’s Cinnamon Raisin Bread Pudding!”  There were boos in the crowd but they were generally supportive of foreign competition.  Chef Calvin went to the podium rather disappointingly and received his third place medal.

“Second place goes to….”

King George fiddled his fingers nervously, hoping Chef James’ food would be announced.

“Buttermilk Beignets by Chef James of Juna!”

“Hurray!” Exclaimed the king, knowing his kingdom had reclaimed the golden mitt.  The crowd echoed the king’s reaction and huge cheers filled the festival arena.  Chef James made his way to the podium as King Leopold, clearly disappointed, just sat motionless.

“And this year’s winner of the bakery competition is…..Banana Cupcake with Vanilla Cream!  It is the creation of a student of Chef Laura.  Please welcome to the stage…”

The crowd suddenly became silent as they waited to see who their new champion is.

“Princess Patricia!”

A shocked reaction was followed by even wilder cheers.  King George was surprised as he never knew her daughter took lessons from Chef Laura.  “You?!  You’re Chef Laura’s student?”

“Yes, father.  I’ve been taking lessons for several years.  I know you wanted me to focus on my studies, but I really love baking.”

The king just smiled as he hugged the princess.  “Then go get your price.  We’ll talk about it later.”

The princess was grinning from ear to ear as she took her place at the top of the podium.  She received her golden mitt from the head organizer and prepared to deliver her winner’s speech.

“Everyone, thank you.  I am so happy to have won back the golden mitt, OUR golden mitt.”  She stopped as the crowd cheered.  Then she turned to the king.  “Father, I have a proposition.  We are known as the patisserie kingdom of the land.  People know we have the best patisserie chefs.  So let us prove it by opening the competition to all kingdoms.  We shouldn’t be afraid of competition.  Our loss last year had cast a doubt.  Maybe we are no longer the best.  That is why we should allow ourselves to be judged alongside the chefs of every kingdom in the land.  If we win, then we know we are still the best.  If we lose, we should look to improve ourselves to reclaim our title.  We shouldn’t be afraid to lose.  Losing allowed us to get better.  So how about it, father?”

The king was stunned.  He never realized that by closing the contest to foreigners, he had lost the only way to measure that Rafflesa still had the best patisserie chef in the world.  By removing competition, they had no resolve to improve themselves.  A decision had to be made.  The king stood up and spoke to his people.  “People of Rafflesa, the princess is right.  In order to show the world that we are still the patisserie kingdom of the world, we should not be afraid of competing against foreign chefs.  From now on, the bakery competition of Harvestfest is now an international competition!”

The crowd responded positively as they chanted Patricia’s name.  Delighted, Patricia rushed down to meet her father.  “I’m going to beat them all, father!”