Volume 2: Nuts, Peaches and Honey — Part 2

The morning was soft and warm.

A good feeling, rare. Soft sheets, the comfortable weight of clean clothes, a clean floor. Her red eyes opened slowly, as if awakening to a different world.

She awoke to the singing of birds. There was also the sound of running water, mixed with the pale complexion of morning. It was like bathing in freshness: her skin prickled with well-being. The air carried the scent of bamboo and citrus.

Koee Nahin awoke beneath a high, gray-brown ceiling. The bed was enormous. Sunlight passed through the polarized floor-to-ceiling window, illuminating her white, pale skin, her white hair falling over her shoulders.

She sat up slowly and looked outside.

The city of Ceres stretched before her, mountains in the background and clouds torn apart by rays of sunlight drawn by nature itself. Flocks of birds crossed the sky like a living spectacle, maestros of the ultimate utopia. Sounds blended together: wings, wind, distant machinery, water pumps, armored trains. Organized life.

Beside it, a garden. Colors everywhere. Abundant green, fresh grass, the smell of wet earth.

Koee was overwhelmed by new feelings. She had never seen anything like it. She had never seen a city like this.

On a nearby table, a basket of fruit invited her. She picked up a peach and bit into it. The sweetness exploded softly, a nectar of awakening. She did not know the name of the fruit. She had never seen it, never tasted it.

There was also a crystal glass and a pitcher of water. Too transparent — almost impossible. She drank. Then a small portion of walnuts and nuts. She ate some. Honey. Simple delicacies that made her skin prickle.

A strange peace flooded her. Absolute relaxation.

Koee walked toward the large window. She touched the glass, warm and soft beneath the sun. The light passed through her retinas, forming a deep, earthy red. She felt the sun like a pleasant weight. She almost fell asleep in a light daze.

She headed toward the inner garden, where a small waterfall descended between stones. She touched the cool water, watching it run between her fingers. She removed her shoes. Her feet touched the cold grass. She felt freedom.

A ray of sunlight passed through the glass ceiling, drawing rivers of light through the air. The coolness of the waterfall formed small mists of droplets that caught the light in living patterns.

Trees with twisted trunks surrounded the space. Small squirrels approached, attracted by the walnuts and nuts. Butterflies circled Koee, guided by the scent of honey. Birds watched from a distance, waiting for food from her hands.

It was a living painting.

Koee smiled faintly, with her ethereal manner, like someone still half-asleep. Life seemed to touch her directly. It was difficult to believe that she was the result of genetic experiments carried out by wretched men — and yet blessed by life itself. Or condemned by it.

She was beautiful. Pink lips, thin white eyebrows, white eyelashes. She looked albino, but she was not. She wore dark-gray clothing, without visible seams, from her neck down to a long skirt that covered her heels. The back concealed her feet; in front, they remained free.

Then Koee felt something.

A presence.

The animals moved away. The air changed.

She turned her neck slightly.

A woman had entered the room. Red hair, black eyes, medium height. She wore shades of gray, bureaucratic ones. A knee-length skirt. She was smiling. She carried a folder under her arm.

Koee recognized it immediately.

Folders.

There had always been folders. There had always been obligations.

Her face hardened.

— Welcome to Ceres, Koee — said the woman, with a voice too sweet for that place.

Koee narrowed her eyes without taking her visitor out of sight. A faint smile appeared, coming from somewhere distant within her ethereal soul.

— Who are you? — Koee asked, her voice low and cautious.

— I am Eos — the woman replied, smiling calmly. — I am from Ceres, from this city that you and the children of Ceres have received from our great Mother Ceres.

Koee heard the word Mother. Strangely comforting. She had never seen another human face so close. Eos’s radiant, smiling face, with red hair, conveyed something Koee had never felt: welcome.

— Koee, I’m going to leave this folder with you — Eos said, placing the object on a simple table beside the garden. — Everything you need to know about us, about Ceres, is in here. Perhaps you will choose to stay with us. Have a good day... and know that the doors here will always be open. No cells. You are free.

Eos turned, still smiling, and left the large, luxurious room.

Koee whispered, almost to herself:

— I’m free? No doors?

She watched Eos cross the doorway and disappear. The open door seemed to swallow everything. Fear took hold. Koee took a few slow, anxious steps, every movement heavy. She had always lived in enclosed spaces. Open doors meant danger. A sensation of loss and pain burned in her chest. A chill ran down her spine. A few tears escaped. With effort, she slowly closed the door.

With her back to the exit, without looking outside, Koee dragged herself to the floor. She cried, embraced her own face, and let herself fall, searching for support. Her sensitivity was dysregulated, the result of years in dark, enclosed, humid environments.

Her breathing was labored, but the smell of the garden, the waterfall, the wet earth, and the birds began to calm her. She slowly relaxed, sighing deeply. Sitting on the floor, she breathed slowly, absorbing every sensation. For the first time, she felt that she could simply be there.

Three days later, Koee still felt out of place. She was beginning to grow accustomed to the room — large, spacious, far too strange for someone who had always lived in confinement. She saw only the maintenance staff, who greeted her with simple smiles. She returned the gesture, slowly becoming familiar with that silent ritual.

She read the reports. How Ceres worked. How the other countries worked. The miseries, the sadness, the repeated failures of the world. Days passed in a stream of information, and her mental digestion was fast. She saw factories, farms, quality-of-life indexes that corresponded exactly to what she saw through the window. A world that seemed like a functional paradise.

In the last report, Eos entered, left the folder, and smiled, as always. When she turned to leave, Koee spoke:

— You can leave it open.

Eos did not question it. She simply nodded and left.

Koee went to the bathroom. The bathtub caught her attention. She had never used anything like it. It was large, deep. She sensed that she could fill it with water and add salts. Everything seemed natural: the hot water, the foam, the steam. She undressed and stepped inside. The bathroom was spacious, made of black marble, with enormous windows. A silent, almost ceremonial space.

She stayed there long enough to relax.

When she left, she chose between two bathrobes — one white, the other dark gray. She chose the gray one. She applied powders and creams to her sensitive, very white skin. She dressed in her usual dress, also dark gray, identical to the others.

She walked to the large window, then to the garden, and went out through the door.

Silencers were positioned nearby. They wore oval lenses over their faces. They did not turn toward her. They did not follow her. They deliberately ignored her presence. Koee crossed enormous, clean corridors, sensing the living smell of the organism that kept that place functioning — something between seriousness and care.

She passed through halls with transparent partitions, observing the bureaucratic side of Ceres. People did not stare at her. Not out of contempt, but so that she could grow accustomed to the environment without pressure. Whenever someone met her gaze, they offered only a brief, silent smile of welcome. No hostility.

The cleaners greeted her respectfully, without servility. A simple acknowledgment: everything is fine.

Farther ahead, high in the tower, she felt the presence before she saw it.

Mother Ceres was sitting.

She wore white, a fabric that seemed to float around her body. She wore a veil and a mask with black lenses. Koee was not frightened. She remained in the half-light. She had a particular ability: she could see in the dark, perceive smells, minimal variations in the air. An extreme sensitivity for understanding her surroundings — like a curious cat.

Then, something changed.

Mother Ceres sensed her.

— Koee... Koee Nahin — the voice said, serene. — You may come out. There is no door. There is nothing here to contain you. You are free.

Koee felt curious. That being was strange, but it emanated comfort. A familiar smell, like a cradle, like a mother’s arms. She approached slowly, emerging from the shadows.

For the first time, Mother Ceres saw her completely.

— By all the Mothers — she said, with deep tenderness. — How beautiful you are, my daughter.

Koee’s white hair was tied into braids that fell down her back. Her face was clean, firm. Red eyes, unique and sensitive — capable of seeing in the dark.

She was an experiment mysteriously stolen from Ceres’s vaults and taken to Arcadia. Theoretical projects, considered impossible. They should not exist. They were human delusions, filed away as unviable.

But Arcadia, hidden, armed, and without ethical restraints, made the miracle happen. Life found a way.

Koee resembled a human being, but there was something different in her soul — if she even possessed one. A body capable of regenerating cells, tissues, limbs. An effective process, though slow. Before the opening of the cocoon, genetic material had been extracted. Studies were underway.

Arcadia possessed the cure for thousands of diseases. It chose to hide this achievement for seventeen years, turning it into a weapon. Without any desire to save humanity.

By fate, bad luck, or fortune, Koee now stood before Mother Ceres.

An unplanned encounter. Not even the gods could have imagined it. Something inexplicable, without natural logic, caused by greed, hatred, and ideologies that had become cancer, corroding humanity until it became corruption.

Investigations were opened. No definitive conclusion was reached about how the secret experiments had ended up in Arcadia.

But Koee existed.

And now, Ceres recognized her too.

Koee, standing before Mother Ceres, held her gaze. Her red eyes, deep and attentive, did not tremble. There was something serious in them, almost ancient, a curiosity without fear. She admired her in silence, like someone observing something that did not need to be named.

Mother Ceres stared back. Calm. Motionless. There was no judgment, no hurry. Only presence.

The two remained like that, face to face, without words. The silence was not empty — it was dense, comfortable, as if the entire world had learned to wait.

— Why do you hide your face? — Koee asked softly.

— There will come a time when you will see it, when there is trust — Mother Ceres replied. — I am only a woman who cares for her children. A face marked by time, full of hope. Here there is no hunger and no poverty, Koee.

Koee felt calm. In the reports, she had read that Mother Ceres was merely a woman in a mask, but there everyone treated her as Mother. Her scent was unmistakable, comforting, bringing a peace Koee had never known — an accidental peace, born of care.

She understood, without effort, the meaning of the mask with black lenses. It was not concealment. It was a symbol. Respect. A silent contract between flesh and society.

Koee approached, curious like an unafraid animal. She touched Mother Ceres’s white dress. The Mother remained still, serene, waiting. Koee moved close to the black lenses and saw herself reflected in them. She saw herself being cared for.

She smiled. A brief, childish smile, like someone who had finally found a safe place.

— Here, Koee, even those who clean the floors feel pride. The children of Ceres have a peace that the world outside does not offer.

— What do you mean... Mother? — Koee said, almost without realizing it.

Mother Ceres was enchanted. There was no correction, no surprise. Only acceptance.

Koee moved closer, sat beside her, and wrapped her arms around her waist. Mother Ceres ran her hand through her white hair. Koee closed her eyes, like a cat finding rest.

— Whenever you want, visit the entire city — Mother Ceres said. — There are no closed doors here. The choice is yours.

Koee yawned, enveloped in that safe scent. If she died there, she thought, she would die in peace. The city around her sounded like a lullaby.

— How beautiful you are, my daughter — Mother Ceres murmured. — An angel... or something beyond.

— No, Mother — Koee replied simply. — I came to stay with you.

In the great hall, something was sealed.

A mother is not only the one who gives birth.

She is the one who raises.

The one who feeds.

The one who educates.

And also... the one who devours.

Within a few weeks, the entire continent knew who Koee Nahin was. Her appearance. Her blood that healed. Her existence.

Everyone wanted her.

But Mother Ceres found her first — and protected her.

Koee was instructed. Informed about her own biology. She discovered that she did not reproduce under fear; her body retracted, like an absolute defense mechanism. They believed her to be sterile. Life, however, played a trick on everyone.

The racist nation of Oplan recognized her as the “perfect race.” Contacts came, proposals, diplomatic agreements. All failed.

Mother Ceres did not lose children in exchange for promises.

Oplan offered space stations, military power, weapons technology. Nothing compared to what Ceres already possessed: total autonomy, record harvests, stability.

General Alac Bilac — the perfect white man — spoke only once. His voice, they say, was known only to Mother Ceres. He offered everything for Koee Nahin.

It was in vain.

He could not use force against Ceres. The continental treaty was clear: the city could never be pressured. All the banks were there. All the reliability. Attacking Ceres meant isolating itself from the world — self-destruction.

Silencium also spoke. Years earlier, Mother Ceres had made a deal that cost her one of her favorite children: Assum.

Assum, the singer. Devoted. Faithful. Loved.

Her sacrifice earned Ceres 2, the space station now orbiting the city, increasing harvest efficiency. Seventeen springs of record harvests. Seventeen years until the Ceres girl was born — now at the military school, among the Mother’s plantations.

Losing another child was not worth it.

All proposals were rejected.

Until Alac Bilac made the last one.

He proposed marriage to Koee Nahin.

Mother Ceres hesitated.

— If she accepts — she finally said — she will be yours. With reciprocal trade agreements and territorial benefits.

The nation of Oplan celebrated.

Aras

Eos walks beside Koee through Aras, Ceres’s equine therapy center. A vast field, far from the tower that still dominates the horizon. Tall trees. Low buildings of pale marble, three stories high, with wide windows. Everything receives light.

There is an artificial lake. Green fields. Horses roaming freely, calm, as if that space had been designed not to hurt anyone.

— We’ve arrived, Koee. Here we treat citizens who are born with genetic factors.

Koee observes in silence.

Clean. Organized. Alive.

A black horse approaches. There is no rush. The animal stops before her, attentive. Koee extends her hand. The horse’s lips brush her fingers — an invitation. She touches its warm face, feels its scent, its contained strength, the deep shine of its dark eyes.

Its heart.

She embraces it.

And, for the first time, the rhythm does not frighten her.

— Magnificent, isn’t it? — Eos says.

Koee does not answer immediately.

— His heart... — she murmurs.

— They choose who can touch them.

The handler watches from a distance. He smiles. He simply nods.

— They are beings that do not seem to belong to this world — Koee says. — I wish I had a heart like that.

— You do — Eos replies. — Not only your own. But that of every citizen of Ceres.

Koee blushes and brings her hand to her face. Eos laughs softly.

They continue in silence toward the main barn.

Inside, children and teenagers wait for the horses. Instructors guide them patiently. There are cries — of joy. Laughter. Some adults participate in the treatment. Everyone wears the same dark-gray uniform. The contrast with the warm tones of the space makes the faces seem even more alive.

Koee notices something strange: no one looks at her with fear. Only respect, simple and natural.

In the distance, the armored trains can be heard. The city does not stop. Even so, the place remains calm.

One of the handlers accompanies his own son through the treatment. Quiet pride. Silent gratitude. In Ceres, he can watch him grow. Fed. Supported. For the rest of his life.

Koee feels her chest tighten.

This is real.

She lightly drags her feet through the sand of the arena. The ground responds.

It is not a dream. It is not a cocoon. It is not anesthesia.

She looks around: faces, colors, movement. Then Eos. The first human face she saw outside isolation. Her eyes grow moist, restrained.

Ceres does not promise happiness.

Ceres sustains.

Koee understands, then, that she is in paradise.

A paradise that costs a great deal.

Eos walked beside Koee while, around them, horses moved slowly through the arena and children smiled, responding to the treatments. There was quiet laughter, the rhythmic sound of hooves on the sand, attentive instructors, everything in restrained harmony.

— Koee — Eos said carefully — I believe you should read the reports. Both those we received about the city... and the applied studies on your biology. I know this may be invasive.

Koee watched a girl on a chestnut horse, focused, happy. Her red eyes followed every movement, attentive, alive.

— I want to help — she replied without hesitation. — I want to help the city of Ceres become better.

Eos stopped for a moment, surprised. Not by the phrase itself, but by the certainty with which it was spoken. Koee did not seem like someone seeking shelter; she seemed like someone choosing to belong.

— Here — Koee continued — you do not lie to me. You do not hide things from me. You let me live, walk, breathe, read... nourish myself.

The golden sun passed through the translucent roof of the arena, spreading a soft luminosity. The fresh scent from Koee’s morning bath still lingered in her white hair, mixing with the warm, living air of the place.

— Mother Ceres is trustworthy — she said, almost in a whisper. — I feel that I can love her as my mother. Out there I might be... a freak. Here, you see me as one of you.

She smiled faintly, thoughtful.

— I noticed something curious. My eyes are unique. I have seen blue, green, black, brown, amber eyes... some even two different colors. But red?

As she spoke, children laughed in the distance. The horses seemed to respond to the energy of the environment, calm, synchronized. Koee attracted attention effortlessly, as if the life around her recognized her.

A butterfly landed gently in her white hair.

Koee laughed, surprised.

— I think I’m a butterfly magnet.

Eos laughed with her.

— Maybe it’s the lotion — Koee said, amused. — It has a fresh scent, keeps away the insects that harm me... but it seems to attract the ones that aren’t afraid.

Eos watched her in silence. Koee was ethereal, delicate, almost unreal. Her extremely white skin contrasted with the soft light of the arena, reflected in her red eyes — unique — where the black pupils stood out with perfect clarity. There was something about her that drew the eye, not because of strangeness, but because of presence.

Whoever did not feel something in the presence of Koee, Eos thought, was not human.