《A Buffalo Goes To Work》


 Part 1 - The Tree

    The buffalo was alone, and her solitude was not lost on her, neither was the beauty of the morning. She was once called Flat, and this is the only name she¡¯s ever had.


    Dew drops glimmered ecstatically on the pale grass; the sun positioned itself with unusual grace. For another, ants marched in strikingly balletic fashion: circles, twists, jagged lines and all sorts of flairs. Flat stomped her hooves and thought: I have made many acquaintances, but I have been a poor friend. I have some things to remedy.


    Flat knew what had to be done: she would have to visit an old friend. The friend, a man, never gave his name to Flat. Flat never asked. The man was a superb whittler and with it, a fine flautist. Flat would seek him out. And shehad an inkling as to his whereabouts: There was an old tree, right over the hills, a point of pilgrimage for some antelope. The tree was encircled by sweeter grass than most of these plains. And Flat¡¯s good friend in turn was a good friend of the tree. Yes! This was where she had to go.


    Flat knew it was no short walk, and so, with a bentneck, lapped up dew from the grass. This was good, so, slowly walking, she repeated the motion several times until reaching the top of the first small hill. From here, Flat moved to the horizon, with the sun to her left. As noon approached, the sun lost its morning grace, now seeming almost angry. Flat felt this anger to be more pronounced than the day before, or the day before that.


    Flat walked and walked. It got no easier after noon. The heat baked into the soil so that it became like a sun shining upward from the earth. One could not tell from looking at the buffalo, but Flat was exhausted and her legs ached like never before. Age had gained on Flat, this was true, but she thought herself a fool for not stopping at noon, for not finding shade. It dawned on Flat that this rush to meet her friend was likely all for nothing ¨C she had no reason not to stop, to quit even.


    Then, momentarily resting under the weight of doubt, the buffalo closed her eyes. With light shut out, the sounds of her heartbeat, her breathing, and that of insects laboring through the grass, faded into one another as an aural cloud. It was as if a dense fog overcame Flat¡¯s mind. She lost her desire to seek out her friend. She now thought herself a fool for going through so much effort on a whim. Why would a buffalo do this? Her friend has lived his life since their last meeting, has surely made other friends and has other matters to attend to. What was the idea behind this meeting but a way to close a circuit in Flat¡¯s mind?


    In all it didn¡¯t matter, because, as she opened her eyes, she noticed that she had already arrived just to the side of the tree. Only now the tree appeared somewhat shrunken to her. Her friend was playing a strange flute that enmeshed itself with the sounds of the insectsin the grass, a tone and melody bringing all together into a singular wave of sound, as a choir that praised the origin of its own voice.


    Flat shook her body from her hooves upward, she was in someone¡¯s presence now, and adjusted herself to reflect this awareness.


    He saw her and called out ¡°Flat, I knew I¡¯d see you soon.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± Flat asked. ¡°Well,¡± her friend cleared his throat, ¡°I always saw you in times like these when the rains came early. For years now, the rains have been late, and I did not see you.¡±


    Flat nodded in understanding.


    ¡°Still, the rains were too heavy this year, the plains to the west were completely drowned, mosquitoes consumed beasts whole, and the mud was so dark, the sky appeared to match its color.¡±


    Flat did not quite understand this, as she didn¡¯t see anything of the like.


    Her friend¡¯s eyes wandered, almost bounced in its sockets, scanning from ground to sky. A termite crawled from his elbow towards his shoulder, went over and presumably back into the termite hill behind him. The tree arose from within the termite hill, its ancient dry roots visible as it weaved in and out from the red earth. It was on such a root the man took his seat. For the most part, the termites didn¡¯t bother him.


    They were silent together for a few notches of the sun¡¯s trek. And then, for a few seconds, he played his flute, its tone unlike anything Flat has ever heard, yet perfectly in harmony with the surrounding fields, like the hiss and squeak of an insect one has never seen, but which one knows is perfectly in its place.


    When he lowered the flute, he asked ¡°surely, Flat, having come all this way, you have at least something to share with me¡±.


    Flat looked down and felt embarrassed to admit the thought that she allowed to take the reins that morning - the thought that she desired to be a better friend. Truthfully, she didn¡¯t know whether that actually was her motivation, it merely seemed a fair reason at the time of departure. ¡°I thought of you, I wanted to see you¡± she finally said.


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    ¡°Of course,¡± her friend replied.


    Some silence prevailed once again.


    ¡°The wind will pick up soon, I¡¯ve been waiting some weeks, but it is about to happen¡± the old man announced, ¡°I¡¯m sure you are aware also, that my life is coming to a close¡±. Unsure how to respond, Flat took a step closer, and let out a near inaudible grunt.


    ¡°Would you like to visit my wife?¡± the old man asked.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you had a wife.¡±


    ¡°O, yes, we came together only on rare occasions, and it was never near here. There¡¯s a great road, a highway, a place of incredible speed, cutting through these plains. Have you seen it?¡±


    ¡°Once, I saw something like you describe at a distance, but all movement I could see was from it, not towards. I decided to stay away just the same.¡±


    ¡°I met with her only where the road crossed the river, where her quarry laid. You should seek her out.


    Once again, they were silent and, after some time passed, the old man played his flute. His melodynowseemed to converse withthe sun¡¯s fall, more alien than the tune of grass he played before. He played until last light and stopped only when the pitch black completely encasedthe plains. By then, Flat was already asleep. There were no predators nearby that night.


    At dawn, Flat¡¯s friend was gone. She looked around, encircled the tree, but there were no signs of him besides a pair of footsteps that stopped only a few steps into grass, and his flute lying on the ground between two of the tree¡¯s roots. Flat sighed. Once again, Flat felt her own foolishness. She had no reason to be at this tree. Yesterday, she should have done nothing but graze, today, the same. Now she was in a place she didn¡¯t know very well, and she felt exceedingly tired, even though she slept longer than she normally would. It seemed as though the way back from where she came was uphill, and she simply couldn¡¯t see herself going that way.


    Flat resolved to stay by the tree as long as she deemed necessary. The surrounding veld would make for good grazing and the tree provided more than ample shade. Moreover, she quickly discovered that, every few hours, a small stream of water would run from the tree¡¯s trunk, clean and cool. And so, on that day, Flat moved very little.


    Thoughts of her friend would spring to mind, but never could she conclude how she felt or what to make of his disappearance. As someone she didn¡¯t see in years, it felt as if it made no difference that he was gone again. Yet on the other hand, would he have disappeared from this tree had she not visited? And of course, the question ¨C was he dead? Or where was he? She alternated between feeling a vague sense of responsibility and feeling that she was only a witness to something rather incomprehensible and beyond response.


    For several days Flat grazed around the tree, drank its water and only thought of her friend in passing, until, one windy day, she looked at the flute, bent her neck and tried to lift it from the ground with her horns, only to have it fall down the moment she raised her neck. She struggled for some time, realizing finally it was simply impossible for her to balance it on her head, neck or back. As such, she started kicking it up against the tree¡¯s roots, trying position it as to easily lift it with her mouth. But, by her third attempt she accidentally stepped on the flute, and it snapped in half.


    For several minutes she gazed at the broken instrument as the wind gently sang its path through the halves. This, Flat thought, was likely closer to music than she could have made with it anyhow. It crossed her mind that if she was suited to do anything, it was to stay on the move. Her friend could make music, he could entertain his guests, could convince you stay there by him. He could anchor his memories to a place and pull them from there into conversation. Flat could not remember anything, she could only recall the rhythms of distances covered. That then - crossing the plains - was what she knew she would do in the future as well.


    Still, the didn¡¯t want to move from here just yet. And so, another day passed. And another. And another¡­ And one day she noticed two lappet-faced vultures building their nest at the very top of the tree. They were meticulous in their coordination, never putting a foot in the way of one another. They brought dry twigs, patches of fur and pieces of bone ¨C all these little dead items ¨C and assembled them into a bed of embrace for new life.


    They paid no heed to Flat and Flat did not think to disturb them.


    She observed the vultures for many days, learning their calls, witnessing their utter dedication. Once the eggs were laid, she noticed the vultures alternating roles to keep the eggs warm. In doing this, the vulture waiting by the nest would calmly stare over the plains, proud, guarding their treasure, their precious labor. Seeing the vultures so calm in their duties, Flat could not help but feel herself playing a role, unspoken though the arrangement was, protecting the vultures¡¯ eggs at the base, giving them all the more reason to maintain a serene frame of mind.


    At this time, Flat¡¯s mind was free from the troubles that plagued her ever since she set out to visit her friend here at the tree. Thought slowly left her mind altogether as she fell into a rhythm of grazing the perimeter and guarding the tree at the center. If thought came to her, it involved only the pair of vultures and their nest.


    It was a daily rhythm Flat was all too happy to follow. To her it felt her friend was still following the tune he played upon her arrival. Flat, the insects, the grass, the tree, the vultures, the sun, they were as music together.


    And then the humidity came, followed by black clouds and the rumble of thunder. There was a swelling gust and flocks of birds all heading in the same direction. In the end, it was lightning and fire, not the hatching of vulture chicks, which ended this saga. The vultures themselves escaped, but the tree, the nest and the eggs would become part of new story, as ash.

 Part 2 - Following the Road

    Flat had been wandering the plains for an entire moon cycle, grazing, making eye contact with its various inhabitants, when she heard a new sound. A sound at an altogether different pitch. Frightened though she was, she nevertheless headed in its direction.


    As soon as it became visible, Flat remembered her friend¡¯s request ¨C that she must visit his wife here, by the great highway. It lay there, downhill from her, stretched across the land in a straight line. Flat immediately knew she saw it before, long ago, and from a different place. Even though now it unsettled her a great deal more than it did before, she persisted still.


    Flat couldn¡¯t know whether she would even find her friend¡¯s wife. Flat didn¡¯t even have any way of knowing how far this highway went on. It could all prove futile. If so, Flat thought, the consolation would be the distantly visible lush green grass that followed along the highway on both sides.


    She began making her way down. The wind was swaying the pale grass all the more forcefully as she got closer to the highway. She acutely felt the weight of her body with every downward step she took. Her hooves cracked a pile of twigs ¨C some ants¡¯ creation. They were everywhere, these ants, moving in all directions. Her body felt heavier the closer she got. Her hooves themselves felt crushed under her weight. Not far now.


    Nearing the road, the ground had flattened completely. Only the road itself rest upon a minor elevation. At the foot of this elevation, there lay grass greener and denser than anything Flat could recall seeing. However, nearly at the precise point this greener grass was separated from the paler grass, a barbed fence ran. Flat has seen these before, only this one was higher and seemed sturdier. At its base, there was at least some of the lush grass that excited her so. She took a mouthful. Surprisingly, it didn¡¯t satisfy her. She took another mouthful. And another, waiting for it to please as she thought it would. She followed the fence, with her head close to the ground, taking bites, chewing, until her lip got snagged on a razor from the fence. Flat hurriedly retracted her neck and groaned loudly.


    She didn¡¯t want to risk hurting herself again. Yet, she still desired to taste more of this lush grass. ¡°I will follow the fence, perhaps I¡¯ll find a gap¡± she thought ¡°and if I am to find the woman I¡¯m looking for, I might as well choose a direction and stick with it.¡± And just so, Flat followed the road in a direction that was roughly South-East. She walked a considerable distance, now and then taking the risk in biting some of the grass, when finally, she came to a spot where the fence caved in. Here the grass was also uprooted in streaks and clusters, and many pieces of debris she could not identify lay scattered about. Flat felt a cold burst of misgivings of all kinds. She could not completely understand what she was walking among, she could only sense quite clearly that this was the aftermath of a great force. She was reminded of the lightning and the tree.


    Nevertheless, she passed through the gap in the fence and continued along the road, eating all the while, starting to feel quite content and satisfied with this grass. It was not long, although she had covered some distance already, when Flat noticed a rumble in the distance. She looked far back at the caved in fence and felt the same force which caused that scene of destruction must be on its way here now. In the potential case that she was its target, her instincts were to run forward in the hope that that whatever came would merely misjudge her pace and miss her completely. She ran, gradually picking up speed. The rumble became louder, incredibly loud. She was running at her fullest speed, everything turning to a blur. Louder and louder the rumble became as she went head on its direction. Everything a blur. A sense of the end overcame her, yet different from a predator¡¯s chase. It wasn¡¯t simply the first instinct of escape, but a calculative guess of an instinct - both staying in one place and running forward could either lead to her death or keep her alive, there was no certainty she made the right choice. Then, in the blur of her surroundings and her desperate rushing thoughts - a white flash - and the rumble began to recede. Flat let her pace dissipate gradually before coming to a complete halt.


    Panting, shaking, Flat looked behind her and saw the rumbling machine, now a white speck, recede further along the measureless highway. She was exhausted, and luckily some trees and dense bushes lay just ahead - a fine spot, she thought, to lay down and be hidden also from any eyes. The day was nearing its end, and Flat couldn¡¯t see herself making any more of it. She would need sleep, and some time to gather her thoughts. Doubts returned to her: Would it be wiser to turn back tomorrow? If not, how long would she continue her search before giving up? What was there to gain, for Flat and for the woman, her friend¡¯s wife, in this meeting?  These questions Flat would need to consider long and hard in the hopeful privacy the bushes would afford her.


    Hidden though she was, Flat could not take her mind off the road that lay merely a few steps away on the other side of the bush. Surely enough, the rumble from before did pass now and again and every time it unnerved Flat down to her bones. With the noise also came light which only heightened these shudders of fear. Despite the lights, yellow, white, cutting through the bushes and into her eyes, she held faith in the bushes keeping her safely out of sight. Of course, she knew it would not protect her if that force turned towards her for whatever reason.  She could barely sleep. And during these long hours in the dark, haunted by these monstrous gusts of noise and force, it became clear that she could not maintain this course for a full day. She would still follow the road, but would find a spot to cross the fence and keep a safe distance. The sweet green grass was not worth the terror the road inspired in her. As soon as dawn breaks, she would rise and move swiftly to find the crossing she desperately needed.


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    This was still some time away. It was quiet for a while and Flat could hear birds singing to her: dawn was nearing. But to her dismay, as dawn approached, the noises only became louder, and the force of their passing became all the more terrifying. There were some throughout the night, but now almost all the passing vehicles were massive things, lorries, whose momentous passing were far beyond Flat¡¯s understanding or experience. She would not dare follow through on her plan if this continued. She would wait it out¡­ or if it came to her, she could make use of a silent few seconds and attempt to jump the fence behind her. After all, she¡¯s seen kudu jump far higher than that. Whether it was really possible for her heavy body to make this jump, she could not tell with any certainty. But staying next to the road any longer felt to her far more torturous than the possibility of falling over the fence.


    It was decided, she would jump the fence as soon as the first moment of respite from the lorries¡¯ passing came. And so, it did. Flat readied herself and stormed towards the fence, lifted her front legs and kicked off with her back legs. This was not enough to make it over. She crashed into the fence, ripping two of its sturdy poles out of the ground: The razor wire cut into her, and she laid there, entangled with the fence, in a manner only a dead buffalo can. She kicked her legs aimlessly, let out an intense groan, tried to break loose, but every thrust away felt like it worsened the cuts made into her by the razor wire fence. She knew, nonetheless, that such a thrust was her only way out, no matter how much blood and pain it would cost. All the while cars were passing by, though it was unlikely for any of the drivers to see.


    She closed her eyes and tried to bring her breathing to a standstill. She was preparing to employ her full force in this attempt to get free. And so, she did. Some blood splattered on the ground as she pulled away. The pain was immense. She repeatedly shook her body as she took some steps away from the fence. She bellowed as she hurriedly waddled away from the fence and the road, determined to distance herself from this scene ¨C as if this would numb the pain. Her front legs were the most hurt and she needed a moment to lie down in the grass, but not this close to the road. She would rest only once the sound of the highway was no louder than that of the crickets in the veld. During this whole time since she decided to attempt the jump, she did not even realize the ascent of the morning sun, now already high and bright enough to make her blood glimmer on the grass around her.


    Flat collapsed not far away. There was nothing on her mind. She felt her whole body was now reduced to nothing more except her aching front legs and her rapidly beating heart. Only very slowly did her heartbeat return to normal and she fell asleep, out in the open, with the insects that were louder than cars.


    She awoke at noon under a violent sun. She was dehydrated and the grass around her was dry, dryer than it was that morning. She got up, stiffly, and surveyed the area. Only down by the road, it seemed, the grass held some life in its blades. This temptation she refused outright. Her mind was made up, she would walk until she would be lucky enough to find a stream. She took off, still fighting off shivers of terror from her long night behind the bushes. ¡°I will find her, I will find her, he would¡¯ve help me, perhaps she would do the same, I will find her, I will find her, she might help, I must find her¡± were the thoughts spinning through her mind, hurting her head while somehow taking the load off her legs.


    Luckily, Flat did not walk far before coming across a small stream. There was no running water, but the soil was still damp. The highlands to the side of the road, the plateau she came down from, let down many such streams into this valley. Flat was beyond thankful for these slivers of dampened soil and the nourishing grass surrounding them. She felt even more thankful as more and more trees began to dot the veld along her course. It was still in the heat of the day when she took a rest under one of these trees. Now that Flat finally felt she could remove her focus from the immediacy of escape, she allowed her eyes to wander across the landscape. The sun¡¯s bright light made a light gold of everything - the trees¡¯ green tops only barely resisting this gold coating. And then the dark gray road, starkly slicing through the scene as if it obeyed none of the same powers that carved this land. The lightning and fire that fell the vultures¡¯ tree, that could burn a hillside to ash, would barely affect as much a patch of this highway. For a long time, Flat¡¯s eyes followed the highway, back and forth to both horizontal ends. When she tried to look to the grassy horizon the other side of the road, she was blinded by the gold luster the sun bestowed on it.


    When Flat decided to leave the tree¡¯s cover, it was already late in the afternoon. She could still cover much ground before dark. And so, she did.

 Part 3 - The Bridge Wife

    The following day, after restless yet adequate sleep, Flat took off by dawn. Walking for some hours in the wooded veld, she could feel the weight of the air pressing her from all sides ¨C another thunderstorm, perhaps. Above the horizon on the other side of the road, dense clouds gathered and seemed to fill more of the sky by the hour. If there was going to be thunder, she would not seek shelter under a tree, but brace whatever rain or hail it brought head on. Towards the afternoon, the sky darkened, and it rained, and there was thunder only a great distance away. Still, she kept shy of the trees.


    For two more days Flat followed the highway. As she went along the veld became all the more forested. This helped much to mitigate the onslaught of the scorching sun. It was here that she came upon a place where the ground suddenly sunk away and far below, when she looked through the vegetation, she could see sand and a river snaking along. It was too steep for her to go down there at this point, so she looked to the road to see how it navigated this terrain. As she walked closer to the road, she began to make out that the road did not descend down into the canyon whatsoever, but lay stretched over like an immense fallen tree.


    While she would certainly not cross over the canyon on this bridge, she hoped that near it there was also an easier path to follow underneath. She approached the bridge. Besides the regular sounds of the road and the birds and the insects, another set of more sporadic sounds began to emerge. It greatly varied in pitch but seemed to come from the same point. Flat felt no reason yet to fear it, but kept her wariness as she approached. After walking past many trees and shrubs, Flat could begin to make out a large block of¡­ something, swaying from side to side. It struck her suddenly that this was her. This was her friend¡¯s wife. As Flat passed the last tree before she could clearly see the woman, the woman turned around abruptly and stared at Flat. Her face was more wrinkled than that of her husband. Her back was crooked and she looked extraordinarily frail, but on her back she carried a load of countless miscellaneous objects about four or five times the size of her own body ¨C all kept together in a bundle with several ropes of differing color and thickness. In front of her she pushed a small cart containing more such objects. She looked at Flat coldly for a few moments until letting out an annoyed puff and turned around to continue, slowly and steadily, in her initial direction.


    Flat did not know how to address her, how to start off this meeting. It was after all Flat¡¯s initiative to seek her out, so naturally the responsibility lay with Flat to say the first words. For now though, Flat thought it prudent to keep her distance and observe a moment longer. Moreover, it seemed the woman was heading downwards towards the river, and Flat could do with some fresh water.


    It became clear that the woman was collecting these mostly small bits and pieces on the side on the road and under the bridge. Flat figured that the road was the only place to find an abundance of such things. Still, she could not as yet comprehend the purpose of the woman¡¯s toils ¨C bending down for each little colorful piece with a strained groan. Flat continued to follow her until they were right under the bridge and the woman dropped her load on the sand, left the cart and walked to the water. Flat did the same. The woman reached for the water with her hands and threw it on her face repeatedly. Flat just took a few sips. She felt it was time now. So, gathering herself, she said to the woman ¡°Your husband requested that I find you.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± she responded with marked disinterest.


    ¡°He did not say.¡±


    The woman seemed to have no intention in continuing the conversation just then. Flat felt strongly, as she did before, that she was completely out of her place. After all, it was only ever her friend¡¯s flute that drew her to him, they never spoke much as friends. Flat was merely an audience rather than a friend. Nevertheless, Flat decided to stick around for a while longer, if only to become audience to something new.


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    For several days Flat followed the woman and it so happened that the woman started initiating conversations with the buffalo. One such conversation lead as follows:


    ¡°How do your knees feel?¡± the woman asked Flat.


    ¡°They hurt. Especially when I¡¯m thirsty¡±


    ¡°Are you thirsty often?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡±


    At this the woman stopped and turned around to look into Flat¡¯s eyes. Flat had been walking some steps behind her to avoid this kind of interaction.


    ¡°I¡¯m also¡± The woman gave cough-laugh.


    Hesitantly, Flat returned the gaze and raised the question ¡°But don¡¯t you stay close to this river?¡±


    ¡°The water¡¯s bad. Makes me sick.¡±


    A flash of a thought shot across Flat¡¯s mind: That they are not thirsty in the same way.


    In these days it was clear that the woman began to enjoy speaking openly and without hesitation about whatever crossed her mind. On one rainy day when they were back under the bridge, she began speaking frankly of her life as it has been for decades.


    ¡°Every day in this season, when there are rains somewhere on the land, new things, things I¡¯ve never seen, come to me down the river. Many things are also thrown from the road ¨C bottles, wrappers, debris from their crashes, but it never surprises like the river. Dolls, so often I find dolls and shoes; tree stumps embedded with metals. The bridge of course, has dropped some bodies, but that is not my trade, I let the river or the helicopters take them. If it was my trade, I would work in a different place entirely ¨C a different river at least¡±


    Flat barely ever gave a response, not even exclamations of any kind. She only listened, and understood little. And in this time the woman also began to make a habit of passing some of her load over to Flat. This was especially so for larger objects: car bumpers, tires, broken chairs, even a mattress. Flat gave it little thought. The woman was old and frail and Flat felt that the gorge was as good a place as any to spend a few months. Moreover, the woman seemed to gradually enjoy Flat¡¯s company all the more.  Flat thought ¡°I might as well share some of the load¡±


    Though she didn¡¯t reflect on it in such precise terms, it was as though Flat felt comfort to play some crucial part in an ecosystem of sorts. Her role was clear: accompany the woman as she completes her task; share some of the load. Only later did Flat inquire more in regards to the woman¡¯s task. The buffalo was given a curt reply: ¡°I pick it up, I take it to people who want it¡±. Flat followed up ¡°And where are they?¡± and instead of providing the answer Flat wanted, the woman simply murmured ¡°Tomorrow¡±.


    And so the next day Flat and the woman carried all they have collected over the last few weeks up to the road. Before heading down to go pick up the final load, the woman instructed Flat to wait by the road as she went down to gather the final pieces of scrap. Flat was deeply uncomfortable this close to the road, but the woman assured her she was safe. Some passing vehicles decelerated and Flat could see faces staring at her with great excitement and wonder. Several minutes after the woman left, a truck stopped by Flat. Its back was a large rusted cage with some assorted pieces of trash and scraps already inside. Two men exited. One, in a high nasal tone, exclaimed ¡°Ah, here¡¯s the beauty Gav mentioned he saw from the bridge. You, Buffalo, you¡¯re a real stunner! And you¡¯ve done great helping the old lady down there! Give us a moment to open the back and we can load all this in.¡± The other man maintained a kind of mindless smile.


    Flat looked around nervously. Where did the woman go? Were these even the people she spoke of?  In the midst of these thoughts, the first man addressed Flat again: ¡°Come on, help us load this in, would you? Your friend would be very surprised if the work¡¯s already finished when she comes back. She¡¯s so old and weak, don¡¯t you just think she¡¯ll love it if we¡¯re all finished up when she gets here?¡± Flat still hesitated, but at the end felt an inexplicable pressure, similar, but more intense, to what she felt in regards to helping the old woman in the first place. And so Flat first took the load already on her back and entered the back of the truck, unloaded, and returned to the rest of the heap. The men helped load it on Flat¡¯s back and she entered the cage again. This time its door slammed behind her. In panic Flat stormed the door, dented it slightly, but was knocked out by the impact.

 Part 4 - Employment

    Flat awoke in the pitch dark. There were noises all around: voices, metallic bangs and high pitched squeaks. She felt confused and weak. She tried to raise her voice to the sky but could make no sound and could find no sky. Footsteps and voices were coming in her direction. There was a commotion all around her when suddenly, the canvas flap which covered the cage started lifting from one side. Light flooded in. Flat shuddered. With another motion, the entire flap flew off and Flat was completely blinded for a few seconds by a light far brighter than the sun in the veld.


    ¡°Here she is, all ready for work¡­¡± one man announced.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think she¡¯ll give any trouble?¡± another asked.


    ¡°Probably some¡± the first man replied, grinning, lifting up a rod and releasing a loud shock from its tip.


    Several other men let out amused grunts.


    The cage opened. Flat, fearful and weak, readied herself to charge, but the man with rod rushed to stab at Flat¡¯s side, and the pulse of the rod nearly collapsed her. Laughter ensued. Flat¡¯s mind filled with lights ¨C the sun, the moon, thunder, the lights on the road. As she began to shake her body in frustration¡­another stab,  another pulse and more weakening. It was hopeless.


    More men entered the cage. They came with metal bars, cables and all manner of contraptions Flat did not know the purpose of. All around her the cables were tightened and her back was extended into large square platform. They modified her horns to look like two scorpion pincers. The men held a device which seemed to control these pincers by will. It could open and close, rise and lower, and turn in all directions.


    ¡°Diversity in the work place¡± one said and laughter burst out from all sides.


    Only at the end, Flat¡¯s mouth was muzzled. Not long after, she was sent out into the warehouse floor, whipped and lightly shocked from the back.


    ¡°I thought we were going to have her run?¡± one asked.


    ¡°Maybe later, let¡¯s just see if the basics are in order¡± another replied.


    Flat was led in the direction of a single crate on the warehouse floor. The entire place became silent as she neared it. Upon reaching the crate. Her pincers activated. Some gasps were heard. The pincers grabbed hold of the box, lifted it up, turned towards the platform on her back and laid it down gently. Thunderous applause ensued. The men surrounding Flat patted her shoulder. She wanted to charge ahead through a tower of similar crates. But the thought of the rod petrified her in place. This was to be Flat¡¯s employment.


    She was led to more crates - the same process, the same applause. Just as her knees felt it would buckle, she was led to a truck where the crates were offloaded. Then, more crates to lift and be offloaded again. This cycle continued for hours. Flat was continuously complimented by the man with the rod. She was told she was beautiful and powerful, an astonishing force of nature. With every cycle he pushed her to move faster and faster. Exclaiming ¡°amazing¡± ¡°you wonderful beast¡± ¡°the  star of the warehouse¡±. All the while, Flat¡¯s eyes would intermittently drift towards the sight of the large opening where trucks rolled in. She could not see much beyond it, and for fear could not see how to reach it, but it¡¯s rectangular shape became embedded in her mind.


    After seven such cycles, an alarm went off, shouts all round and the workers began leaving their posts. Flat was moved to a small room. Her muzzle was removed but the other extensions remained. They gave her heaps of hay to eat and water to drink. As the men left the room, closed the large door, leaving one dim light for Flat to see her food. She was shaking, feverish, distressed and could not even think of eating.


    Flat spent the second day at the warehouse engaged in the exact same task. The third day was no different, nor the fourth, but on the fifth day of her employment, something was completely changed. The applause and most words of praise ceased. She was still ordered from place to place, threatened with the rod ¨C the cruelty was no more or less than before, but the workers¡¯ amusement with her seemed to have dissipated. The next day, she was alone in her dark room, the warehouse was quiet. The slept nearly the entire day ¨C she wanted to have thoughts, but her mind was blank.


    The seventh day something was different again. Where the first four days Flat was applauded and the fifth day disregarded, this new work day murmurs passed through the warehouse all around Flat. There hung a sense of dismissal in the air. As Flat moved boxes to and fro, she began to notice the forklifts ¨C how they managed to do all the work she did, if not more, in better time at that. The man with the rod kept an eye on her, but was mostly occupied with other work. At some point, when he came closer to inspect her work, another man exclaimed ¡°Still tending to Gav¡¯s pet, hey?¡± and in response, the man who acted as her guardian just sighed - ¡°The man¡¯s a visionary, you know¡± - and rolled his eyes.


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    This was the second time Flat had heard the name Gav, but she never heard anyone address him directly and couldn¡¯t know whether she has seen him or not. However, from these two instances, it was clear that her being there was inextricably linked to this Gav.


    This second week continued under this pervasive atmosphere of casual contempt. When Flat was left in the dark room again on the off day, her extensions ¨C the platform and the pincers ¨C were removed. The next day, when the workers returned, Flat was left in the dark room. She was glad to have been relieved of her labor, yet the longer her rest extended, the more the she began to feel the toll this ordeal had taken on her body. With her every movement her joints ached tremendously, her head was spinning and her hooves felt as though it was cracking as she merely moved a few steps from the pile of hay to the water trough.


    Outside this small room, the activity of the warehouse continued undisturbed, sounds that ranged from deep rumbles to intense screeches came to her muffled through the largest metal door and separated her from the workers. Somehow, even muffled as it was, the sounds felt more relentless and oppressive to her than it did when she was working in the midst of it. Of course the hope and possibility of escape had come to her before, but only now did it begin to take over her mind completely. Before, fear forced her mind on the work she was ordered to do, but now, she was thinking only of the warehouse¡¯s big open door, a giant rectangle beyond which she could never see much as it was continually occupied by large trucks. All that she could make out, during times of the day when the light was not too bright, was the top of a mountain.


    At the end of the work day, when the warehouse became quiet again, Flat pictured that rectangular opening, pictured herself running beyond it at full speed. This thought alone made her body ache, but her mind soar. She pictured herself running out into vast fields and away from any road until her body could run no more. She fell asleep with only this image replaying continuously in her mind. Night after night.


    And so it happened that, one dark cool night, near dawn, Flat was awakened by her small room¡¯s door opening before her. A hazy light shown in from outside, but she could not see much beyond the door. There were some voices echoing through the warehouse, all hushed and melted together. Hesitantly, Flat stepped from the room she was kept. She shut her eyes firmly, wincing in anticipation of a strike to her body. No such strike came and she opened her eyes. Still only the indistinct voices echoing over and around her, but she could she see clearer now. The large warehouse door was open, and outside it the silhouettes of structures, hazy lights - some white, some pale yellow, some stale orange. There was an immense force within her, a force directed at that rectangular opening - a sensation of her body stretched out from where she stood all the way to the large opening. It felt as though she was already outside, and at the same time - this sensation of being stretched made the task feel impossible - a strike, a powerful blow to her side would cut her in half, the room in which she was kept felt as though it would stretch along and capture her from behind. Yet, she could not make out a single person in the warehouse. There was no one to catch her and still she knew they would. Escape simultaneously felt guaranteed and impossible. She was locked in this trap until finally the force she felt, the sense of being stretched across the warehouse floor, took over and she was catapulted by it into a full sprint towards the door. No strike, no blow to throw her off course, she went forward only. Everything around her was dark and gray and hard as rock. The world of the warehouse continued outside, just without a roof. Flat had gone out the door, but it was no escape yet. She wouldn¡¯t let up until all this was gone, until the ground beneath her feet was red earth and yellowing grass.


    She did not cease her sprinting. There was no gate, no fence to stop her anymore. Soon enough the concrete of the warehouse yard gave way to tarmac and white lines. She sprinted along this road and would do so until it gave way to open land. It was quiet, but several cars did pass, most slowed down out of astonishment and some even came to a screeching halt at the sight of a buffalo in the city.


    As she ran further, she felt she was only going deeper into the hard gray world of the city. More cars, lights, noises. . . the noise was unbearable beyond anything else - voices and machines as one. Dawn had come and the sky was pink like fresh roadkill. Flat ran on the sidewalks and across the streets. She turned corners and turned around. More corners, four-ways, lights and noise. As everything brightened the mountain towering over the city became more visible and Flat felt drawn to it as something like a familiar face. She turned herself fully towards it, fixed herself on it and began taking its direction. The fatigue she felt was of no consequence to the focus she now had. Sprinting in the manner of a dedicated march, Flat held firm through the shouting voices, the buzz of the ever increasing wave of machines pummeling forward upon the black streets. Everything around her took the shape of a tunnel straight to the mountain. She felt absolute unthinking certainty about this mountain, about her commitment to this line of escape.


    But it would not be. Flat¡¯s tunnel was crashed into from the side. And darkness bled into her clear sight of the mountain, until, within seconds, there was nothing.

 Epilogue

    The savanna was bustling that morning. The storm from the night before had caused frenzy among all of the living. Now, the grass and the shrubs were already noticeably greener. This place was far more lush than Flat¡¯s first home in the veld. It was far more lively too, and with it, more dangerous. Flat was alone at night, and got little sleep as the black of night swirled in roars and growls and screeches and bellows of pain. She knew being alone was a great danger. Her safety would depend on finding another group of buffalo. This task would occupy her for a long time.


    She would wake up and walk for hours and hours. From time to time she would see a road, but the cars here drove slowly and its passengers all pointed fingers out the window. Flat tried as best she can to never go near these roads. Sometimes, though, she had little choice as most of the watering holes lay near the road. Drinking spots along the larger river were more secluded, but she never trusted the crocodiles. The thought of being caught by a crocodile felt more akin to falling into a trap than being hunted - she never drank for more than a few seconds at any of these rivers. So at the small watering holes - holes filled by hidden water pumps - she would bow to drink and refuse to lift her head in the direction of the cars. She would not meet eyes with them.


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    There was a herd she had been tracking for a few days, keeping them in the far reaches of her sight. And on this beautiful morning after the storm, she would make contact. She followed through a dense woodland to reach an open plain. Scattered across the plain was the herd. She was part of a herd once, when she was still young, but she has no memory of how she left or where the others went. She remembers being part of a herd and then not being part of one.


    A slow careful approach was needed. It was impossible to be sure how the others would react. As she neared, she began to hear grunts, the sound of hooves kicking up dust, young buffalo running to test their legs - all this and no notice of her presence and never would there be. A silence crept through the herd and then, a rush, a panic, a collective cry. Lions. A chase. Flat sprinted as the others, but in a different direction.


    She would continue to spend her time walking the savanna. Only a day later, she came across a fence, far too high to jump. Flat resolved to follow it, surely somewhere along the way it would have a breach, perhaps somewhere there would be a quiet night to be had. The fence encircled this entire patch of savanna, she realized months later. It was to be her home.