What’s Wrong With Fruit?
by Veronica Venus
It is a crisp and clear April morning and we are driving through the beautiful countryside in Western Frieden-und Freudenland. Our driver, Sean D’onofrio, is a 71-year-old farmer who has lived in rural Fernhill all his life and earned his living by growing, to adopt his super-superlative expression, the ''most tastiest'' fruits in Southern Forest. ''But things have suddenly changed,'' he says sulkily, as he turns his head away from the road to look at us, two reporters who have comfortably settled on the backseat.
''I don’t know why nobody is interested in what’s happening,'' he continues in a bitter tone. ''I have been writing dozens of petitions to the Ministry of Agriculture, and as they just turned a deaf ear to me, I wrote to you. You’re the only ones to take interest in the matter in eight weeks.''
Mr. D’onofrio has contacted Friedenspost last Monday, telling us that the fruits he was growing have been changing ''in a weird way'' and asking us to come and report on the issue, so that government officials could finally take notice and do something about it. We didn’t know what to expect, but we decided to pursue the matter all the same.
Mr. D’onofrio suddenly stops the car in the middle of the road and gets off. He points to the vast field on our left with an expansive arm movement. ''This here, is my strawberry field.'' We get off and follow him to his strawberry field to see what it was that worried him so much – and we witness that jawdropping sight first hand. Mr. D’onofrio picks a cluster (yes, a cluster) of strawberries and holds it in front of my friend Mark’s camera. ''Here, photograph this, document the disaster!'' he yells. Mark does what he is told to do.A peculiar cluster of strawberries. Photo credit: Mark Jarvinen
Mr. D’onofrio’s strawberry field is full of gargantuan strawberry clusters. He dolefully shakes his head. ''I have been a farmer here for almost 50 years, I have never witnessed such a thing.'' I cannot conceal my amazement. I ask him whether he has been using any insecticides or pesticides on his strawberries, as I suspect the malformations we observe could be a side effect of excessive pesticide use. His answer is a firm ''No!'' – Mr. D’onofrio seems to be offended. ''I am a good environmentalist, and I have always practised eco-friendly farming,'' he asserts. ''Moreover I am not the only one who has been experiencing this problem. Ask my friend Vladimir, his eggplants are the same.''
This comes as an unexpected blow and we get back into our car to drive to Vladimir’s house. Mr. Vladimir Yamazaki, a 75-year-old farmer of serious demeanor, has been cultivating eggplants for more than two decades. Like Sean D’onofrio, he lives in a small cottage in the tranquil village of Lichfield 40 miles north of the bustling metropole Fernhill. He welcomes us with a broad smile and agrees to take us to his 100-acre backyard where he grows his famous eggplants. We slowly walk along the rows of eggplant seedlings, and we are once again dumbfounded. He tears off a cluster of eggplants. ''Look at this,'' he says. ''I have never seen such a thing. Some fellow villagers see this as a portent of doom. Some of my neighbors are stocking food and other supplies in their cellars, because they fear we may be on the brink of an apocalyptic disaster.''Mr. Yamazaki kindly agreed to pose for Mark with a cluster of eggplants in his hands. Photo credit: Mark Jarvinen
Are the residents of Lichfield a bit superstitious? Perhaps. I am sure that there is no apocalyptic disaster on the horizon. I am also pretty sure that these freakish fruits are not a result of God’s wrath. But I suspect something that is perhaps more fearful than a divine apocalypse – a disaster brought about by human stupidity. These malformations remind me of some accidents (!) that have happened in countries depending on nuclear energy, where exposure to radiation had had such effects on fruits and vegetables. Therefore we hastily thank Mr. D’onofrio and Mr. Yamazaki for their hospitality and leave.
We make an appointment with Dr. Maria Limpele, a world-renowned expert on bionuclear and radiological physics. We are lucky to have this appointment, because she has a very busy schedule. She agrees to see us before she rushes to the airport to catch her plane to Caracasus where the annual Nuclear Energy Congress will be held.
The next day, we leave our hotel and go to the University of Fernhill that is located on a beautiful hill overlooking the Kolaxa Sea. We find Dr. Limpele in her office, waiting for us. We show her the pictures that we took in Lichfield the day before and she is surprised. ''There can be no mistake,'' she murmurs, ''this is the effect of radiation.'' ''Are you sure?'' I ask hesitantly. I wish that she might be mistaken. She silently opens her drawer and takes out some fairly old photos and lays them before us.The mutant vegetables of Candlewhisper Archive. Courtesy of Dr. Maria Limpele
''What are these?'' Mark and I ask in unison. The answer is shocking. ''Some carrots, a tomato and a radish. They don’t look like what they are supposed to look like. Do you know where these photos were taken? They were taken in Candlewhisper Archive about 60 years ago, when a terrible accident happened at a nuclear power plant. After the event, we have observed so many weird malformations in the fruits and vegetables grown there. I was a very young researcher at the time, and I took these photos while I worked on a case study involving these mutant vegetables.'' I have one question, though. ''Dr. Limpele, Frieden-und Freudenland is strictly against nuclear energy. We have no nuclear power plants, nothing. Where does this radiation come from?'' Dr. Limpele smiles and shakes her head. ''I don’t know. But perhaps we need to take a closer look at our friends.'' The emphasis she puts on the word ‘friends’ startles me. ''You mean, someone may be waging a nuclear warfare against us, without us knowing about it?'' ''I am not saying they are,'' Dr. Limpele says, ''I am just saying we should consider every possibility.''
We leave Dr. Limpele’s office with more questions on our minds than answers. What is happening in Fernhill? Are we really facing a nuclear disaster the source of which is unknown to us? And if that is the case, how can I fight an enemy that we cannot identify?
For now, we have to leave our readers with these questions. But we promise we will follow up on this story.