the five golden seeds
By Vũ Trọng Hiếu
alone i am floating in the universe. it has never been this black and this cold, a sure sign that everything around me is dying, and that i am dying, even though this should not have been possible. in the face of certain decay, i want to tell you a story. this story is about my passion for watermelons, and it took place more than a vigintillion years ago.
i was human then. i was not obsessed with watermelons. but i did not hate them. upon reflection, i now see that my fondness for melons burrowed itself in my mind like a seed in the ground waiting to germinate. whenever my mom brought home watermelons, i would be the first in line to chop it up so i could feel the spongy texture of the melon in my hand and hear the crunch of the knife slicing through the succulent flesh. but the moment when i truly believed in the miracle of melons, and when i began to pursue it until the end of time, was when i was a poor twenty-year-old.
back then i lived alone in an apartment. it was large, very cozy, and the rent was very cheap, but it had two big drawbacks. the first was that whenever a storm hit Hanoi, my apartment would always be the first place struck by the wind and rain. no matter where the storm came from, the wind and rain would wind itself through the city, slithering through narrow alleys to always strike my apartment first. the second drawback was that the room had exactly one window, and the only view i could see was a sea of concrete and red corrugated iron, with the main attraction being the Capital Place towers that soared in the distance. normally this would not be a problem, but every time i looked through the apartment window, that tower would shine and sparkle like a diamond needle. morning, night or lunar eclipse, it glowed brilliantly, its seven-colored light illuminating the room, turning my apartment into a house of mirrors. but when i looked at the tower from the balcony, the building remained a monolithic grey slab, as it had always been for everyone else. prospective renters were clearly bothered by this, and that explained the cheap rent. but that was not enough for me to pass up on the deal. when i finally moved in, i closed the window tightly, then taped some black plastic sheets over it to block the light from outside. and i went on living like that for some months.
one day, a storm came. as usual, before any drops fell in the inner city, the rain and wind threw themselves into the exterior of my apartment. i did not pay much attention, until a glowing watermelon emitting a halo of light flew from somewhere, crashed through my window, shot through the thin layer of black plastic, and passed through the knife set i hung on the wall, which cut the melon into bite-sized pieces. then the wind pushed these melon pieces through the cupboard, neatly arranging them on a plate, and placing them gently on a table in front of me. at first i did not want to eat it, but that changed when i looked at what was on the plate. every piece was dripping with juice. the flesh was firm, sinewy, crisscrossed with threads like blood vessels, and inflating and deflating like a lung, creating slurping sounds with each movement. the sound made its way from the plate straight into my heart, making my body tremble with joy. no soul on earth could resist it, so i popped a piece into my mouth. the moment it touched my tongue, that small lung oozed sweet red juice, and the blood vessels in each piece would burst with crimson nectar when bitten through. when i swallowed them, jet black melon seeds with small appendages like spider legs crawled from my esophagus to my mouth, tickling my throat, creating a very pleasant feeling. when they crawled up, they made small, muffled screams that sounded strangely orchestral. that was a joy without comparison. i rolled to the ground in excruciating pleasure. i lost control of my faculties. my arms waved uncontrollably in an oval shape in the air. that experience convinced me to make a promise to myself: i must find a way to enjoy these melons forever.
so i quit my job and put all my savings into finding the halo melons. i rode my bike to the wholesale market to look for them. this did not help. in fact, it made my quest even harder. every time i mentioned the type of melon i was looking for, everyone seemed disturbed. the fruit sellers either did not answer, or quickly said, "i don't sell that kind!" then changed the subject. just at the verge of despair, i luckily met uncle Thanh the melon specialist. when i asked about halo melons, he sweated profusely, his face turned a few shades whiter, his lips kept quivering, and his mouth became distorted. as his hands clasped his chest, and as he gradually collapsed, he muttered one sentence continuously. when i came closer to listen, i realized what he was trying to say: “must find gold”.
what this meant i did not know. should i buy a few taels of gold? or did i have to go into the mountains to pan for gold? the more i thought about it, the more unreasonable it felt, and the more unreasonable it felt, the angrier i became, to the point where i wanted to destroy everything. as i arrived in front of my apartment building, i saw my trash bag sitting sadly under an electric pole. in anger i stomped on it repeatedly until all the trash was spilling out onto the street, making the screams of the melon seeds i threw away increasingly louder. but then i saw something very special. amidst the mushy remains of the bag was a golden melon seed. maybe i was so delirious while cleaning the house that i did not notice it. but the seed was also special in that she did not scream. instead, she was whimpering, her tiny hands moved to wipe away her dew-like tear drops. this must be the gold that uncle Thanh told me to find! knowing that, i quickly placed her on my index finger, apologized for the trampling, and asked why she was crying. but she said nothing. i brought her to my room to comfort her. but as soon as i opened the door, she cried loudly: mom! mommy! mommy!
at first i thought i must have looked like her mom, but the closer i walked to the window with her perched in hand, the louder she cried, and as i moved away from the window, she would stop crying and returned to whimpering softly as before. only then did i realize that she only cried when she saw the bright light of the Capital Place tower coming from outside, blasting through the melon-sized hole in the plastic sheet covering the door. i began to make calculations in my head. if the golden one started crying for mom when she saw the tower, and the golden one came from the halo melon i ate yesterday, then the tower could be where her mom was from. my eyes were set on the sparkling needle in the distance. i softly placed her in my front pocket, then quickly rode my bike over there. the closer i was to the destination, the more her crimson tears seeped through my blouse, creating a small red triangle on my pocket. as soon as i finished parking my bike in a tea joint, i went out to the main lobby and looked around, only to see two special people standing next to each other. one was a tall, middle-aged sister, the other was an older uncle. the two of them were special because the sister’s back pockets glowed strangely, creating a bright red hue that penetrated the thick layer of denim. that plastic bag the uncle held also shone brightly like a green floodlight, illuminating the entire lobby. before i approached, they turned around, as if they knew i was coming. the two looked at me for a moment, then at each other, and asked: are you also carrying gold? the other sister then pulled out a golden melon seed exactly like mine from her back pocket, and the uncle opened his plastic bag, stuck his hand in, and on his finger was another golden melon seed. i reached into my bag, scooped my golden girl into my palm, thereby reuniting the three golden sisters. they still whimpered, but their light became more intense, now more like a small star in the lobby. however, no one noticed, and none of us were blinded. on the contrary, even though we had never met before, it felt as if the three of us were relatives, our relationship not tied by blood but bound by the golden melon seed light. they introduced themselves, and i came to realize that all three had eaten that delicious melon, and all three had gone to the Capital Place tower with a different purpose. the uncle’s name was Dũng. he lived only a few buildings from me, but his hometown was Quảng Trị. he said he enjoyed the delicious melon, but his goal here was to return his dear golden seed back home. the crying seed reminded him of his older sister who was lost in the south after the war. seeing the seed weeping reminded him of his own mother crying for his sister, so he decided that he must help the seed reunite with her family. the middle-aged sister was named Dương. her house was also just a short walk away from my apartment. she said she hoped the tower was the place where those melons were sold. she worked as a cleaner and could barely scrape by, but she still brought along 300,000 dong to buy the melons, as her two children loved to eat the halo melons that fell in front of the door yesterday. one child was on permanent hemodialysis, the other had skin cancer. both were living a miserable life, so she would do anything to make their lives a little bit better, even if that meant giving up a day’s wage.
listening to both of their stories, i could not help but feel that i was too selfish. my wishes seemed petty compared to theirs. i came here to satisfy my own needs, while uncle Dũng and sister Dương both came here with a noble purpose. but then my thought turned to the sweet melon flavor that twisted my tongue, its heavenly juice seeping into every corner of my mouth, and the feeling of melon seeds crawling out of my throat. as such i gradually put aside my concerns. i reasoned that, if i get the melon, and continue to eat it, i would be happier, and from there i would be more productive, thereby helping more people. was that any different from reuniting a child with her mom or bringing joy to unfortunate children? if you are being strictly logical, then no. this line of argument is rationally sound, and as such there was nobility in my selfishness. and so i told the other two the truth. not only did they not scold me, but they nodded in sympathy. maybe they thought i was too young, or maybe they also understood my reasoning. but despite our differing goals, all three of us were determined to bring the three golden children back to their mother.
we approached the receptionist, then showed him our three melon seeds. when he turned on the walkie-talkie to call security, we quickly walked out to think of another plan. uncle Dũng suggested sneaking in somehow. sister Dương lived with many people who work here as janitors, so she knew that this area had very tight security. you could not enter through the main entrance because everyone entering and exiting must show their entry card, including the cleaners. i asked if i could disguise myself and say i was a guest. sister Dương said that was even more implausible. she pointed to my blouse pocket, now tainted by red tears, and said my clothes were far too dirty for me to be a guest here. besides, even guests also had to have invitations from the staff inside the building if they want to enter. what to do now? uncle Dũng said. as soon as he finished asking, the three melon sisters cried out in unison: to the roof, to the roof, to the roof! looking at their thread-like hands pointing upwards, we immediately knew what we must do. the roof of the Capital Place building would be our destination, and we would have to climb 37 floors to reach it. hearing this, even the most stubborn among us could not help but feel discouraged. but the golden kids were rowdy again and screamed: in the mouth! in the mouth! in the mouth!
hearing that, each person dropped their golden seed into their mouth. suddenly, we felt many times stronger. i hopped lightly and ended up four meters up in the air. uncle Dũng was able to lift a manhole cover with his little finger, and sister Dương was able to hold on tightly to a wall edge and then lift herself completely off the ground without feeling tired. we decided to use this newfound strength to climb to the roof of the building, and help the golden sisters reunite with their mother.
we found a private place with a few pipes running the length of the building and started climbing. each of us held onto a pipe, looking at each other as we climbed. all three climbed with undiminished enthusiasm. sister Dương climbed ahead while cheering me on, never panting or breaking a sweat. uncle Dũng, who followed behind, sang praises of his new power. oh how i wish i could always be like this, my sister would burst into tears! just like that we climbed, until the cables on the window-cleaning platform snapped, its downward trajectory coinciding with where uncle Dũng was climbing. sister Dương was too busy adjusting her grip to notice. uncle Dũng, too occupied with dusting his hands to hold on tighter, did not hear the snapping of the cable. i could scream and tell him to jump to the nearby pipes to avoid it. but i did not do that. the rational side of my brain said that without Dũng, there would be fewer people competing with me to eat melons, and because of that, the world would have one more young, healthy, mentally refreshed person, rather than a frail old man. then i made a decision, one which i did not regret in the slightest, even to this day.
i reached over, put my hand in his mouth, took out his golden seed, and put her in my mouth. he lost all strength, loosened his grip and fell down, just as the hanging platform crashed on him, smashing his body to the ground. seeing this, Dương cried out loudly, then told me she would climb down twenty floors to see if he was still alive. but i told her that he was dead, so let us keep trying, because his spirit would want us to get the melons. Dương gritted her teeth, closed her eyes as if trying to suck back the falling tears, and continued climbing.
with the strength of two golden children in my mouth, i had a noticeably easier time climbing. now i could distort the pipe with just a light touch. still i tried to climb as i was before, so that Dương would not get suspicious. when i finally set foot on the rough concrete of the top floor, i felt my mouth ringing with the screams of the golden children. mom! mom!, mom!, their words echoed in my skull. but i did not care, because there was nothing more beautiful in this world than that majestic scene, the light of a brilliant melon garden, a terranean star in the middle of Hanoi, bearing a hundred oval-shaped emerald angels. there were no more doubts: these were the melons we ate yesterday. Dương and i were about to pick all the melons, but we were stopped by a person wearing a red cloak from head to toe. she revealed that she was the director of a company, and that she was the one who took care of this melon garden. a number of years back, her company struggled greatly due to increased competition from Chinese companies, so she wanted to find a way to gain an edge over her competitors. she learned from a shaman that the roof of the Capital Place tower was a place with a special aura, attracting winds that carry celestial dust. the shaman said that if one used this accumulated dust to grow melons, sooner or later five melon seeds containing the essence of the universe will appear. if you collect all five seeds, you will summon a goddess. if you return all five seeds to the goddess, she will bless you, allowing you to do everything you want. however, the shaman was adamant: the price to pay for growing this melon will be the destruction of humanity. so no one was brave enough to do it. but this director was different. after decades of diligent cultivation, she collected two seeds. but yesterday was the most miraculous batch, because there were three melons bearing golden seeds at the same time. unfortunately, this miracle would turn disastrous, when the same celestial wind that kept her hope alive took it away by blowing the three heavenly melons to three different places. she said that if we have come here, it means we must have a golden seed in our hands. the director then made an offer: give me your melon seeds and everyone will have whatever they want. this meant i would have plenty of melons to eat, and Dương would not only have melons for her children but could also cure their illnesses. she was no doubt aware of this, and so immediately placed her melon seed in the director's open hand. as soon as she received it, the director smiled and allowed Dương to freely pick the fruits. Dương then immediately bent down, plucked the juicy, haloed melons until she could not hold any more. now it was my turn. i could give the director my two melon seeds, then eat melons until i die. but i recalled the promise i made to myself: i must find a way to enjoy melons forever. why should i surrender the essence of the universe to others so they could grant me miracles, when i could take all five seeds and become a walking god, one who could enjoy melons until the end of time?
and so, when the director offered her hand, i grabbed it and smashed her entire body to the ground. as her arm snapped, the three golden seeds in her robes fell onto the concrete floor. she tried to pick them up with her other hand, but my seed-enhanced stomp quickly turned her hands into mush. and after picking up the three seeds from the ground, and when the director was writhing on the roof, and when Dương was busy picking melons, an oval block of pure light suddenly appeared before my eyes. the screams of the two golden sisters in my mouth grew louder and louder, a miniature choir singing in unison: mom!, mom!, mom!
this mass of light whispered into my head:
“give me my five children, and i will give you whatever you like.”
my mind was completely blank. i could no longer hear the two children screaming in my head. i could not hear the director's screams, sister Dương's gasps, or the roar of the Hanoi traffic at night. my thoughts seemed lost in nothingness, my memories twisting in an empty space, the screams of the golden children were now meaningless sound waves. but then there were six words that burst through the silence, tearing through every doubt, giving form to the formlessness in my mind. these six words were the only sounds in my entire universe, and the clearest sounds i had ever heard in my life:
there was nobility in my selfishness.
i took the three golden children and threw them into my mouth. then i swallowed them.
*****
i had never seen humans turn into celestial dust. so when i saw more than eight million people disintegrate, i could not help but be shocked. but shock was useless. shock was something humans feel. but i was no longer human. i became a god.
after swallowing the five golden seeds, my earthly body exploded, leaving behind five spots of light hovering in the air, gradually merging to become a single, bright entity, so bright it could be seen from another galaxy. and, as the immortal law of the universe dictates, energy can neither be created nor destroyed—only converted from one form to another. the energy of that mass of light, of that generous mother, had transferred to me, and the result of this shift was the biggest explosion in the history of the earth, erasing from existence the director and her ambition, Dương and her children, Dũng and his crushed dream, dozens of people standing around his body, the entire population of Hanoi, and billions of earthlings.
how did i feel?
did i regret it?
not really
i felt like eating watermelons
i shot myself out of the earth, out of the solar system, out of the milky way, into the great expanse of the universe. i made myself a new body, the size of ten galaxies combined, and i wove myself a dress ten times that. it was green, with slender black accents running its length, and was lined with a layer of brilliant red silk, redder than the biggest dwarf stars. then i snapped my celestial fingers and created the perfect piece of watermelon. it was four galaxies in length and two galaxies in height. its texture, taste, and flavor were no different from the halo melon i ate yesterday. i took a moment to admire this piece of divine creation. the rhythmic movement of the muscles and tendons was exactly like what i remembered, not a single detail was wrong. and then i bit it. the taste struck my head like a shockwave from an exploding star. the sweetness of the flesh was enough to bend time, and the succulence of the melon could shift space. then trillions of melon seeds, each the size of our solar system, came out of my mouth, covering every light year of my body. my eyes rotated in their sockets like a galaxy in motion. this melon created such a feeling of joy that it was no longer a feeling, but instead became a writhing entity, continuously beaming the pleasures felt by billions of species in the universe into my head. better yet, the emotions exploding in my head would increase to an even higher level with just a single thought. and so the absence of pleasure no longer made sense. i experienced endless pleasure fit for a god of infinite power, a joy of endless intensity for a mind with endless capacity.
and then i finished the first piece of melon.
*****
to a god, time has no meaning. but after eating melons for several septillion years, even unlimited pleasure gets boring. so i thought about how i could regain the happiness when i first ate that piece of rainwater-drenched halo melon. i realized that the happiness i was feeling only followed one vector, all pointing to my head. what i need now was the pleasure in endless vectors, tearing open a new dimension of joy. but how could i do so? an idea struck my mind. i decided to remove my skirt, shrink myself, and grow a thick layer of watermelon flesh around me, forming a sphere eight times the size of saturn. and now the pleasure was not only concentrated in my head but was compressing every atom of my body. and once again, this new pleasure kept me satisfied for several more nonillion years. but even this new infinity was not enough for me. the direction and intensity of the pleasure no longer mattered. the biggest problem i had was my imagination. no matter how hard i tried, i was still just a singular entity, limited in my imagination. and if my imagination was not rich enough, the level, quality, and type of pleasure would no longer rise. so i created life on my watermelon planet, and harnessed the creativity of these creatures as a source of newer pleasures. the first few million years were very slow, and the creatures' imaginations were also limited, but these black, oval, flat-bodied beings gradually developed, and their imaginations became more diverse, surpassing the sum total of what i had been thinking for the past decillion years. better yet, these creatures were fast reproducers. infinity now bred infinity, in a never-ending spiral of ineffable pleasure. and i continued to watch these creatures grow, cooperate, go to war, destroy each other, travel across the universe, fly out of the big melon and create millions of colonies, producing ever more intense streams of pleasure. i would continually enjoy the fruits of their imagination for a few more tredecillion years.
and when the population of these beings reached its limit and could no longer grow, my joy also stopped. now even i could not think of any other avenue to produce more happiness. there existed no other solution for me. and now the pleasure, which once made me dizzy in jubilation, had lost its value. once dominating my life, my love of watermelon became a background emotion, no different from the cold on my skin. so, after a novemdecillion years, i became terminally bored. i clenched my fists, tensed my muscles, and shattered the melon that enveloped my body. i stretched out my index finger, drew a small oval shape, and all the creatures i had created died, their black bodies shattering into a decillion melon seeds.
i curled up into the shape of a melon, then drifted across the universe, with no company but the vacuum of space, the cold, and billions upon billions of stars. as i drifted, i tried to think of more ways to regain pleasure. i did so even as the cold became colder, the darkening stars became darker, and my fading vitality became weaker, even though this should be impossible.
as i drifted through the universe, i thought about my experiences after a vigintillion years. did i really enjoy pleasure? of course the answer was yes. why else would i pursue it for all these years? but i wanted to ask myself again: did i truly like pleasure, or did i enjoy the absence of it? could it be that what i like was not the feeling of pleasure itself, but the memory of pleasure? experience, no matter how memorable, is fleeting in nature, but memory endures, and so becomes an immortal entity, even more powerful than i am. when i witnessed the halo melons on the Capital Place tower, was i, in fact, deeply sad inside? was i truly dejected because the lifeless image of the melons was what entered my mind, not the vivid memory of my first sweet rainwater-drenched red tryst?
or was what i truly like the pursuit of this happiness? was what I enjoyed the excitement when finding clues leading to the melon, when finding people who like melons, and when finally seeing the melons shining brightly in the Hanoi skyline? but the more i thought, the more i saw that my pursuit was not the pursuit of happiness, but of something else. what was it? i kept thinking, and have been for millions, billions, billions of years.
that is why i am telling you this story. i hope my story resonates throughout the vast expanse of space, throughout the universe and throughout time, before the universe dies, and before i die. i dearly hope it reaches someone's ears, so they can help me answer my question, and to save me from drifting through the universe looking for happiness. most of all, i want someone to listen, then show me that escaping this cycle is something that can be done, and not just a fantasy.
Vũ Trọng Hiếu is an English teacher and aspiring writer based in Hanoi, Vietnam. He received an MA in English language teaching from Victoria University of Wellington, New Zealand. Hiếu attempts to capture the essence of working-class life in Vietnam and its intricate relationship with capitalism. He also aims to portray the ephemeral yet powerful instances of solidarity and hope that frequently arise, and are often brutally suppressed, within working-class communities.
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