VI
Here I sit before the black table, composing my face into an expression that has, on previous occasions, moved lesser humans to considerable generosity. The plate is there. The smells arrive in sequence — something warm, something with herbs, something I cannot classify but file immediately under urgent. I sit. I wait. Nothing comes.
Across from me, a human eats. I observe this with the careful neutrality of a census official recording a flood. The food appeared, as it always does, from the kitchen — that mysterious institution which produces meals without apparent effort, like a ministry that issues decrees no one remembers requesting. I have never seen the process clearly. Presumably the table is involved. The table is large, black, authoritative — clearly a senior official of some kind. It stands between me and the plate with the impassivity of a border guard who has heard every argument and remains unimpressed.
I consider the injustice. Here is a creature who has done nothing of particular merit today — no patrolling, no sustained vigilance, no philosophical suffering — and yet lunch arrives for him as though ordained by natural law. For me, who have maintained the household through sheer moral presence: nothing. Not even a morsel slid across the table.
They do not understand that food is not a reward. Food is a right, accruing automatically to those present at the table — by proximity, by sincerity, by the simple fact of existing near the plate and having, clearly, needs. This I regard as self-evident. That others do not see it is their failure of reasoning, not mine.
I attempt communication through my eyes, which I arrange into ancient sorrow with a note of professional disappointment. Pity, applied with patience, is a solvent. One must set the atmosphere correctly — the slightly lowered head, the gaze that says I do not ask for myself; I ask on behalf of all who have ever waited faithfully and received nothing. Phase One. It does not work immediately. It never works immediately. This is not failure.
Phase Two: to rise, approach, and place my nose directly beside the plate. Not on the plate — I am not a barbarian — but beside it, close enough to demonstrate, without ambiguity, that I am aware of the situation and have formed conclusions. Sometimes clarity requires proximity. The diplomatic note must be delivered in person.
They do not grasp that food deepens sleep considerably — more restful, more thorough, more complete in its maintenance of the organism. Yet food is always a sufficient reason to abandon sleep entirely. I hold no remorse for this contradiction; it is simply the nature of important things.
The human looks up. I hold the gaze. No guilt presents itself to me — why should it? I have done nothing wrong. I have simply identified a resource, assessed my claim, and am pursuing it through legitimate channels. That the other party does not yet agree is a temporary administrative delay.
Such is the faith of those who wait without doubt: not that the world is just, but that it will come around eventually — and that when it does, they will accept what arrives as no more than what was always owed.