Page 65 - November 2020

November 2020 65
Litterateur

THE CHARCOAL GARDEN

We presumed that, as soon as it set eyes on us, it realized that it already knew us.
We were precisely the kind of people who would dig wells and send down sound-
waves through the rock-layers in order to look for it. Once they had detected the
spot where it resided and remained hidden, they would start using a drill
positioned firmly on the ground to dig a hole. The incredible pace of the pounding
would make its relentless way downwards through one geological layer after
another, all of them piled up on one another over a period of millions of years. No
sooner had the drill-bit touched the oil’s lifeblood after a few days’ drilling than
they would lower explosives through the aperture and set about splitting the rocks
which served as its protection. The blasts would create tracks which would be
used to extract the oil under pressure to propel it to the surface; hoses with

perforated ends would suck it out of its own underground environment. Once it
had reached the earth’s surface, it would be collected in barrels, quickly analyzed
and refined. That done, they would use its lifeblood in their cars, machines, and
stoves. The residue—its black skin—would be spread on their roads, creating
asphalt routes in every conceivable direction and making possible kinds of life that
had never been known before. Deserts could be converted into gleaming cities that
had never been thought of before. The very smell of it enabled them to shrug off
life’s troubles since they could make huge amounts of money by selling it, just like
slaves, to far off countries where it was cold. The people in those countries soon
started burning it as fast as they could in order to get the necessary energy to keep
themselves reasonably warm.

How many times has it been able to escape for a while in order to conserve its
precious reserves and the entire genus from the dangers of depletion and outright
extinction as a consequence of the non-stop drilling night and day. Whenever oil
senses that the drilling crews are about to send out shock waves, it can predict the
danger above; with that it immediately assembles its family and community and
quickly leaves the spot where they all are. They make their way through passage-

ways, cracks, crevices and rock-seams scattered throughout the sand and
limestone layers till they reach somewhere else. Valleys are descended,
mountains climbed; the oil floats on top of water, sometimes running away, others
times staying still, in the loftiest places, all the while relying on its thick texture.
Water affords it an even better chance to make its escape and hide in crevices
covered over with different types of rock like limestone and clay. Those rocks
keep it separated from everything around it, and it can keep itself safe from those
cynical people on the surface who keep trying to locate it, tirelessly pursuing their
question in the sea or the desert and unleashing their sound-waves to find its
hiding-place and finally tap it.