Volume 3: The Eloquence of Hunger – Part 2

At that moment, Mother Ceres had asked Al Acram not to go easy on her.

In the first interview, the questions had remained superficial. Not because the journalist lacked the ability, but because of the tensions between countries and the continent's delicate political balance.

Even so, the interview had made an enormous impact. It had made the covers of magazines, broken sales records, and driven the article's readership to unprecedented numbers.

This time, Mother Ceres wanted depth.

Everyone was seated.

Mother Ceres remained composed and still, waiting.

In front of her stood a table laden with fruit, cheeses, wines, and delicacies from Ceres. Beside it stood a banner bearing the Republic's flag: dark gray, marked with two crossed keys.

— We're going live in five seconds...

— Three... two... one... we're live.

— Good evening.

The camera framed Hermes alone.

Behind him, the black marble of Ceres filled the set. It was the first time this material, abundant in Ceres and extremely valuable to anyone seeking immortality, had been shown live to the entire continent.

— My name is Hermes Render. I'm here with Mother Ceres.

The camera switched.

Mother Ceres appeared.

— Good evening, Render. And good evening to everyone at home, out in the streets, and in your own households. I hope you have enough food to sustain yourselves... I hope so.

It was an almost sarcastic remark.

But there was no malice in it.

It was simply Mother Ceres's way of wishing that no one would go hungry, that everyone would have a home and a little peace of mind.

It was difficult to argue with her.

Not because she was impossible to challenge, but because discussing hunger on a full stomach was an uncomfortable task.

For many, talking about hunger was trivial.

For her, it wasn't.

Many believed Mother Ceres hid behind hunger because she had no arguments of her own.

She did the opposite.

She put hunger on display.

Hermes took a deep breath.

— We're here with Mother Ceres. But I'll just call you Mother.

— Yes, my son. You can be honest with me.

Hermes straightened his papers.

— Mother, Ceres controls the largest agricultural production on the planet and still maintains food donation programs. I know racism isn't part of Ceres's political agenda. So why do you continue feeding the armies of Oplan, an openly racist and supremacist society? Why don't you make those supplies conditional on policy changes or improvements in the government's behavior?

Mother Ceres remained silent for a few seconds.

— Render, my son... I cannot change a country's doctrine simply because I feed that country.

Hermes remained attentive.

— Change takes time. It doesn't happen as quickly as I would like. We're clear about that: we don't share the same ideas, but we share food.

She tilted her head slightly.

— My primary role is to fight hunger.

— Even when the food reaches the army?

— Even then.

Hermes frowned.

— Why?

— Because Oplan is a sovereign and independent nation. It creates its own crises with other countries, makes its own decisions, and answers for them. We have citizens of Oplan living in Ceres. We share information. There are significant openings between our societies.

A brief pause.

— I'm not saying we're friendly nations.

Mother Ceres looked directly at the camera.

— But if an Oplan soldier has food, then, to me, that's better than a hungry soldier.

Hermes tried to interrupt.

— But that doesn't mean—

— It doesn't mean we agree with them — she continued. — It simply means hunger isn't a weapon I'm willing to use.

Silence.

— I didn't come here to change the world, Render. The world is constantly at war. Peace is often nothing more than an accident.

Hermes moved on to the next question.

— Mother, I noticed you're not wearing your crown or your crystal tiara. You're wearing more formal clothes today.

— Yes. Believe it or not, I'm just as human as you are.

Hermes smiled.

— Then why the mask?

Mother Ceres raised a hand to her face.

— Without it, I'm just an ordinary citizen of Ceres. A woman. A mother. With it...

She paused briefly.

— I'm the reflection everyone wants to see.

Hermes waited.

— I'm Ceres. I'm Mother Ceres. The one who feeds, the one who educates...

She tilted her face.

— And the one who devours.

Hermes remained silent for a few seconds.

Then he pressed on.

— Mother, we live in an increasingly modern world. People have greater access to information, more freedom, more choices. Why do you ridicule freedom? Why do you suffocate your own children?

The questions had changed.

They were no longer diplomatic questions.

They were heavier.

More direct.

Hermes wanted to put Mother Ceres under pressure.

And for the first time that night, Ysa smiled discreetly.

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