Her flesh jiggled with delicate beauty as tears fell to her cheek. As the starlet stood there looking out at the audience, André felt as if she were looking directly at him. Her massive chest heaved, and her dress swirled gracefully. Her lover lay dead upon the floor. The song ended with a grand sigh. The aria had been drawn out adroitly by Miranda Hoffmeister the newest sensation on film. André left the playhouse with visions of plump flesh spilling over the top of the Victorian gown cinched tightly about the remarkable girth of the beauteous star.
Rotund was a state sought after. Ever since the technological advances fostered in the 1850’s took hold, the wealthy asserted it was their right to deny the less fortunate souls of the world access. Access to the fortune and knowledge, which would allow all to glow with greasy pinkness, remained tightly controlled.
Hungary boasted themselves as the birthplace of the meat plants, quickly dubbed Fleischgartenen by the German Chancellor, who imported the technology to Cologne. The elite clamored to have dishes prepared by the finest chef’s money could afford. Soon Flesh Gardens became available worldwide; the multiple meanings only enhanced the appeal.
Over time, the caloric intake doubled, and tripled, as advances in technology allowed the bio-engineered meat to be made even more economically. Nevertheless, it never reached the tables of the masses; Fleischgarten’s remained a treat for the few and fortunate elite. To double and triple one’s weight became the accepted model of beauty, one which the poor could never emulate as perfectly as the rich.
On the cusp of the new millennium, André pondered his situation. At the age of twenty years old, he found himself in the reviled state of soon-to-be-homeless. His grades failed to warrant the state paid degree he’d always assumed would be his. His parents were middle class. Middle class meant they were neither skeletal nor rounded. The dream for all remained: to be sufficiently rich enough to gain access to the Flesh Gardens daily.
“It’s time son,” Papa said as he entered André’s room.
A lump formed in André's throat as he looked about his room. His bed; piled high with quilts lovingly made by his mother; the walls held pin- ups of his favorite actors and actresses – all pleasingly plump. On the nightstand sat his chronometer, he placed it on his wrist, determined to keep what few possessions he could carry with him. Legally, he could visit, but it would be an embarrassment to himself and his family. Particularly once he began to waste away, becoming a Grünlich, a Greeny.
His mother dabbed at her eyes; his sister hid her face in her hair. Maria maintained a nicely rounded figure. Mama and Papa always gave her seconds in the hopes she would marry up. Indeed, the number of rolls signified the number of levels one could dream to ascend. Maria displayed three rolls of flesh hanging from her lovely back; her prominent stomach sat proudly beneath her ample bosom. André felt a stab of jealousy, yet he knew that this was the way of the world. Success in life would be up to him.
“Mama, I will write, I promise,” he soothed. Taking in the memory of his family, as he looked intently at each face, he knew it would be years before he returned.
She hugged and kissed him, a frown forming as she felt his hard and bony body beneath her hands. With tears, she recalled the chubby child he had been; such hopes she had pinned on him!
André made his way towards the factory district thinking that a job might be available. Seeing the line, he knew that was merely another dream. Making his way to the welfare office, he thought about the national claims of perfection and productivity. Forms filled and registrations in order allowed him to gain a microchip implant – placed beneath the skin on his hand. The soft part where thumb and forefinger meet throbbed a bit after the bulbous nosed nurse shot it into place.
“Now, it’s important for you to remember to return every month to renew your vouchers. Embedded within the chip are codes that when scanned will allow you sixty meals and four showers at our public houses.” Her plump face appeared to mock him.
Catching a whiff of her cheap perfume he knew she rarely ate at the Flesh Gardens, he wondered where she managed to gain her extra meals.
Now what, André? He wondered.
A chubby-faced male tapped him as he sat on a bench outside the offices he’d just left. “Hey, you want to make quick cash?”
The youth perked up, “Sure.”
“Sell me your implants each month and you’ll soon be rolling in it.”
“What? For how much?” André was alert but curious.
“Here, follow me.”
They hardly walked around the corner when Blaine said, “Here we are.” The building was clean, as all buildings were throughout Europe since the introduction of microbiologics, which fed off rubbish – leaving behind green dust, which easily blew away in the wind or got vacuumed up weekly by street cleaners.
Inside it was dark and stuffy. André’s first thought was to leave, but a firm voice called, “In here.”
The chubby male, who had not offered a name, motioned towards a half-closed door towards the end of the long hall. The library had few books as most of the shelves had been cleared away. Instead, there hung wires and tubes with the newly developed grow lights positioned above in long lines of flickering life. Plants of various kinds snaked out of vials, dishes, and baskets. The greenery enchanted and somehow soothed André’s discomfort.
The owner of the firm voice belonged to a tall, broad body which André instinctively felt attracted to despite the gentleman's lack of fleshy softness.
The gentleman’s hand extended as he said, “Doctor Gaspar Ebert, please have a seat.” He waved towards the table and chairs after releasing the young man’s hand.
André sat.
After small pleasantries and learning of André’s newly acquired homeless status, Dr. Ebert said, “I understand you would be wary, having just received your meal chip. But, I can offer you far greater opportunities than the state.”
André began to ask a question, but the doctor raised his hand for silence. “Let me continue and then you may ask questions. After. As you know, the Fleischgartenen have been in production for decades. I maintain they are obsolete, and we are in need of a revolution. I have significant backing funding my research. Sell me your chip and agree to act as my steward, shall we say, and I will provide room and board here. We have rooms upstairs, you must share as I have many volunteers, but at least you will not be in the public houses – turning green.”
It was true, those who lived off the state’s bounty tended to have a green cast to them, due to the lack of showers and the biologics which fed off the filth of the unwashed. The other option was the military and André did not feel inclined to take that step, yet. It was usually the last resort. Prussia flexed its mighty arm, and talks of expansion resounded weekly in shops and news clips. War lingered on the minds of many.
Dr. Ebert continued, “The revolution has already begun, really. In America, they have rejected our accepted form of beauty, "largess" as they call it is passé. And yes, they have taken the word and transformed its meaning…”
Interrupting, André spouted, “What about Hollywood? I have not seen any thin stars on the screen; unless you count the comedians.”
“Yes, well the elite of American society tend to emulate those in Europe. But the main core of the continent has found healthy living desirable. This healthful lifestyle is my dream; to expand Prussian rule and dominance through the Fabian dream.” He sighed when he saw the youth had never heard of the Fabian Society.
“The Fabian Society espouses simple living, none of this excess and debauchery. It’s a quiet revolution, not meant to send citizens to the streets in anger, but to meet the movers and manipulators head on and counter their agendas. The Society gained their ideals from our own beloved Bismark. But not enough has been done. We would like to send you into the Fleischgartenen as a waiter. Merely seeing truly healthy males will evolve ones thinking. In time, the ideal model of health will be you and me.”
It was mind blowing to André; he had grown up thinking he was ugly and scrawny. Laughed at by his chubby peers, he had become withdrawn and reticent to act out. Yet a raging hatred simmered within. This idea of change appealed to him.
“I’m interested, but what do you need my meals for?”
“We don’t need your meals. We need the chips. I know how to make them, but do not have access to the materials at present. So I buy them, replace the shell, and when you return the attendants remove them and throw them in the trash. You get a new one, and I pay you again for the inner device.”
“So wouldn’t it make more sense for me to eat most of the meals before I sell the chip?”
Dr. Ebert boomed loudly in response, a chuckle so humorous André could not help but smile in return.
“That’s what I liked about you André; always thinking.”
“Wait –liked?”
The doctor nodded his head, “Yes, we engineered your failing grade. Wait, please sit! It was so you could gain a superior education here – with me.” He waved towards the hydroponics.
“You had no right!” André screamed, he felt spittle spray as he yelled his frustration at this stranger.
The doctor sat calmly as though this had happened before. André was quick to note the doctors’ calm demeanor and asked, “So how many did you say you have abducted?”
“Please, calm yourself. I am offering you a chance to be part of the avant-garde few who will change society for the better. Stay with us this night. Should you choose to reject this offer I can look into reversing your grades – it will be seen as a misunderstanding – a lost paper.”
Andre had walked through the public-house earlier and was loathe to spend the night there when he had an alternative. Before him sat an opportunity to be tutored directly by an evidently well-read and powerful scientist. He would at least spend the night and give his answer in the morning.
Chubby-face came in and introduced himself as Blaine. Taking him upstairs, he said, “This will be your room, you will share it with me.”
Great, thought André. Now I get to be humiliated by staying with a pleasantly plump boy while he makes fun of my slight frame. He was, of course, nowhere near the famed girth of the rich and famous. Twenty stone was the magic number many worked so hard to attain. Rumors swirled that the very elite sported thirty or more, but that was laughed off as wive's tales or folly.
“Now what?” André asked.
“Now we get dressed for work.”
The expression on André’s face required an answer, so Blaine continued, "We will wait on the tables among the rich and famous within Cologne's very finest Fleischgarten, Récompense de Gluttons."
Dressed in plain white shirts with stiff collars, and black woolen pants, the pair joined others on a trolley headed uptown.
André had, of course, seen edited scenes of the rich eating within the famed Récompense de Gluttons but never did he expect to be able to enter.
The Greek architecture of the building featured female figures for columns. André had always found it ironic that the house of gluttons had such slim women holding the building up. Of course, the building was old having been built before the advent of meat plants.
The smell was divine; André hoped he would be allowed to eat before being made to serve all night.
Blaine laughed and brought him to the day old food bin. The meat was cold but looked delicious, once the plates were loaded with scoops of this and that Blaine showed André how the warming ovens worked – another new technology, not yet available to the masses – waves of energy were shot through the box, heating the food internally.
Hungrily they each scarfed down the food, finishing just as their supervisor arrived to train the three new workers.
Once given instructions on behaviors and swiftness, it was time to work. Andre entered and found the immense space daunting; it reminded him of Greek and Roman temples. Indeed, he thought he should bow before the first goddess of flesh that he was asked to serve. She appeared, and he later learned it was true, to have grown in place upon her throne.
She was barely clothed in a toga to match the decor, the folds of skin seemed to go on forever. Never had he thought such a feat possible. Her golden hair shone with angelic luster; her ruby lips glistened with the grease of her previous meal.
How could my small frame ever be something to be desired? André wondered. This woman is glorious!
She ordered everything on the menu, it took him all night to serve her and her alone. The more she ate, the more André lost his reverence. He still saw her as lovely for that had been ingrained from birth. Surely such excess was wrong? She ate enough to feed his family for two days! Handmaids came in between rounds and washed her clean. The delicately crafted dishes hardly seemed to merit appreciation as she tore them apart to devour with slurping gasps of engorgement.
The youth lowered his eyes, now out of repulsive horror, rather than deference. Unsure of whether he wanted to eat the grease slathered flesh again, he worked to maintain a calm exterior.
Gaspar Ebert observed from a darkened corner; the flared nostrils and bobbing Adam’s apple caused him to smile.
Another convert had been born.
- an excerpt from my collection of short stories Arcadium Autum Emporium Tales of the Gatekeeper