A Bright Carrot's Disillusion

Squint. Blink blink.

Critter the carrot had grown up. He'd felt the tiny green sprouts emerging from the top of his head reach air many days ago, but now, as his eyes emerged from beneath the soil, the sights and the air around him overwhelmed his senses. Through the dim starlight he could make out the frame of the greenhouse and the large panes of glass forming a peak above his head. He saw other hearty root vegetables around him. It was confusing and marvelous at the same time. He blinked and a star blinked in response. He took a deep breath of the cold air.

From out of the darkness just out of sight, he heard, "Hey, carrot, is that you?"

The asparagus, whose name Critter learned was Archibald, had a lot to say. And the way he said it made Critter feel a little uneasy.

"My eyes have been above soil since a year before you were even planted, kid. Hoo boy, have I seen a lot," Archibald said.

Critter, still so new to this world and lacking context, just nodded his little greens and paid attention. 

"Not a bad place to grow up, I guess, if you got your choice," Archibald held forth. "I mean, have you seen what it looks like out there? No siree, no thank you, ma'am." 

He waggled a spear at what lay beyond the greenhouse windows. The ground was pure white and Critter thought it looked unwelcomingly cold. 

"But there's a dark side to this place..." Archibald said, and looked distant. Haunted, even.

The soil in which Critter had grown shifted a bit under his meager weight. "A... a dark side?" he asked. 

"Hoo boy..." said Archibald. 

"...hoo boy, indeed. Indeed-a-lee-doo."

Critter cringed. "What?"

"They'll pull you, eventually. You, specifically, Critter. Deracination. That's the term of art."

"What's that mean?"

"It means you'll leave this place! And soon! You'll be lifted out and up, to the higher place, to the beyond which is great, ascend to the gates, walk the streets of gold. Or..." Archibald paused, figuratively stroked his chin, and exhaled before continuing, "You'll descend to the fire, tortured, separated. Depending on what you think, or do, or both."

"How do you know?"

"I just do!"

"Have you been...pulled?"

"Boy, I would be so lucky! I do not get to leave! Pieces of me are torn away, painful cleavings, reminders that my destiny is to remain here in the terrible now."

On and on Archibald went about the various ways Critter's cohorts had been kidnapped or maimed, and Archibald speculated wildly, spears vibrating, about their ultimate fates.

Critter wasn't sure any of this information was doing him any good. Certainly not mentally. He was, after all, a sessile root vegetable. With no practical options for escape or any real physical chicanery, he wondered if he'd just be better off not knowing.

"Maybe I will wind up part of a nice, fresh salad," he suggested during a pause in Archibald's monologue.

"You should be so lucky, squirt," Archibald said, crossing two limbs before his trunk and frowning. "Even with the dismemberment that's still better than roasting in my book. Hoo-wee."

His expression grew grim. He pointed a frond at a bush that was not planted on their table.

"See Rosetta over there? She's been around longer than me. Gets trimmed like I do, but lucky for her she's not the eating kind. She knows the ones who built this place. Been watching them operate. 'People,' they're called. Hairless apes! Rosie calls them 'the hippies.' And damn my shallow roots... they don't just eat us."

New, unformed fears unlocked within Critter.

The door to the greenhouse opened and Critter felt a rush of cold air flow across his shoots. An unfamiliar giant beast slipped in and quickly closed the door.

"People?!" Critter exclaimed.

Archibald quickly clenched his teeth and shushed loudly.

Critter caught the hint and fell silent, but inside his mind there was a typewriter tapping at 200 words per minute. He couldn't see the creature, just the hint of motion in his peripheral vision. He strained but failed to get any detail, just size, motion, shadow; its enormous, lumbering, terrifying presence, like just the existence of this being in the universe represented some kind of threat to all the others.

It drew closer. Critter could feel it more than he could see it. Fear gripped his soul like an extension of the giant’s hand.

A shower of lukewarm water fell on Critter's head, a blanket of startling comfort; his cells absorbed the nutrients joyously; his terrified heart signaled only bewilderment.

"Carrots are comin' in good, babe!" the thing shouted as it stroked Critter's little head. The warmth of its touch and the friendliness of its tone were at odds with his dread.

"Aww! Carrot-tastic!" came a higher, more excitable voice from somewhere unseen.

Critter was about to ask the creature its name, but saw Archibald giving a frantic, bud-across-the-throat, "cut it out!" gesture. He kept quiet.

Also, "carrots" plural? There were more like him? He looked around and finally noticed familiar shoots poking up out of the soil behind him. He had a family! And this so-called beast was caring for his family with what looked like love in its eyes.

Critter's anxiety eased as his confusion peaked. Archibald had mentioned something called Stockholm Syndrome that had gone right over his greens, what was that?

"Gonna need to make some room for the turnips," the giant said. "What about this asparagus?"

Archibald froze, side-eye bulging. Critter froze. There was a very long, cold moment before the reply.

"You know what? Fuck that asparagus. It tastes like ass and I feel like it's always giving me the stink eye!"

"K, babe," the hairless ape said, and grabbed gloves and a trowel.