The effort to “empty” death row will require several factors to come together at once. My source compared this to the process of baking. It starts with a recipe. The Bakers need FIVE special elements to make their cake.
First, they need a special set of gallows. For undisclosed reasons, the machine cannot be made by a native of the African continent. This requirement necessitates the second ingredient: A special carpenter to build them. The man who won the contract is a foreigner with long‑standing ties to Zimbabwe. I was told that his bizarre personality is marked by a strange obsession that has strained his marriage and impaired his ability to befriend “normal people”. However, this very trait won him the contract. I understand he will soon be shipping the machine to Zimbabwe from his home country.
The third ingredient is a judge to continue feeding the gallows. The perception of fair trials in these cases is critical. The Bakers need a highly respected jurist with a reputation for being independent, intelligent and just. The judge’s thoroughness should dispel all doubts about the soundness of his convictions and the validity of his death sentences. I believe you may already know the judge in question.
Ensuring that a man of such integrity always arrives at the death penalty requires the preparation of ironclad cases that the judge cannot refute. This requires a fourth ingredient: A prosecution team powered by an exceptional legal mind.
Of course, the key element is the new hangman. My informant told me that this is the most unstable ingredient. There is a lot of infighting among The Bakers about who the recruit should be, and what test should be employed to identify him. This final ingredient will determine whether they produce the “miracle dough” that will feed their salvation, or an explosive tumour that will destroy them. If they make the wrong choice, their disease will kill them all in a dramatic manner. If they make the right decision, only one of them will perish. Either way, at least one person will die with a gruesome panache. Casualty minimization, not prevention, will define success. If The Bakers secure the more favourable outcome, the survivors will enjoy temporary relief. Their problems will not be over. My informant described their situation as follows:
“When a group of people are forced to navigate a minefield together, everyone feels a grudging sense of comfort when someone else gets blown up. Though there may be other unseen landmines left in the ground, each death creates a safe spot. A landmine cannot explode twice in the same place. Sure, the explosion robs the survivors of a comrade. Still, each death makes everyone’s next step marginally safer. So everyone keeps walking with grief on their faces, and relief in their hearts. Death is further postponed by another life.”
The Inverted Oven
Earlier in this report, I mentioned how an object and its reflection always share the same fate. That exact logic applies to this case. The Bakers believe that in order to treat their illness, they must first “swallow” small lumps of the dough before putting the remaining bulk into the oven. They installed a special window, which doubles as a mirror in the furnace door. This feature is supposed to transform The Bakers’ ugly reflections into identical images of the maturing cake inside. Pure, guiltless, and immune from ngozi. By hitching their own “reflections” to a therapeutic wagon of similar composition, The Bakers may survive the mutant flame lily. That’s the theory, at least.
The reality will be more unfriendly than they realize. Logic dictates that a man can never look into a mirror and see the reflection of a tomato in his place (unless, of course, the man was a tomato to begin with). Such elaborate plots to defy the laws of nature will always produce undesirable results. Besides, The Bakers have another problem on their hands. Someone has been tampering with their ingredients. That same person also replaced the oven window with a magnifying glass. He used it to redirect and concentrate the heat outside the oven. For a while, The Bakers may not realize that their furnace has been turned inside out. But once they feel the heat, they will become even more desperate. As they say: A baking man will grasp to a hangman. Whoever gets the job will be dragged into the heat, forced to wear a massive pair of iron shoes, and frogmarched across the minefield at gunpoint.
The hangman’s replacement will have sympathizers. I hope their efforts will be enough to disrupt the baking exercise before the dough is thrown into the oven. If they fail, his chances of survival will grow dimmer.
Who Is Tampering With the Ingredients In The Oven?
Who booby-trapped the oven door? Someone who is more interested in baking The Bakers than the dough. His motivations are unclear. The few people who know this shadowy character are unwilling to speak about him. He even inspires fear among the ruthless.
Only one person had the courage to volunteer any information. The disruptive individual is probably responsible for the flame lilies at Great Zimbabwe. But who is this man? Where did he come from? Why do people fear him? Why is he trying to frustrate The Bakers’ treatment? I too asked all of these questions. I will conclude with the only answer that I was given: “Patience. You will hear more of him soon enough.”
* * *
SPROUT OF DISRUPTION
“... the only difference between carnivores and plants is that the latter eat meat through ‘translator’ organisms. Maggots and bacteria ‘pre-chew’ dead animal matter, which plants then absorb as nutrients. So if eating pre-chewed food does not change the fact that a baby is human, why should a plant be any less of a carnivore because it out-sources the digestion of animal protein to organisms of decay?”
Consolidated 1. File: H2SO4 – xxx – Client / Chokwadi – Extract – Newspaper SED2450 – Zizi
ZUVA REDU: Cadaver-Hunting Flower Found at Great Zimbabwe
By Earnest Chokwadi
A recent discovery is sending shockwaves through the botanical community. Two months ago, a scientist from Africa University in Bindura discovered a curious plant at the Great Zimbabwe monument. The flowering vine was growing between the foundation stones of the Conical Tower in the Hill Complex.
At first, Professor Khupe thought it was an ordinary flame lily plant. His curiosity was aroused when he noticed that each of the flower’s petals had thin blues streaks running down their lengths. Only an expert could appreciate the floral significance of this discovery. Professor Khupe was such a man. Not only has he spent two decades studying local plant species, he is also the outgoing president of the Zimbabwe Association for the Study of Carnivorous and Omnivorous Plants (ZASCOP).
After surveying the area, Professor Khupe identified five other plants with this strange feature. They were scattered across two square kilometres around the Hill Complex. He was granted a permit by the tourism and environment ministries to harvest these creeping vines. The professor then carried out a series of tests in his laboratory. His findings were astounding.
“I almost swallowed my test tube,” he said with a laugh. “I could not believe what I was seeing. My professional scepticism led me to send samples to my colleague at the University of Zimbabwe, who carried out further tests. The results were unequivocal. The plants’ genetic fabric was interwoven with human DNA. This is unheard of. In fact, this sort of thing only happens in botanical mythology.”
For the benefit of our clueless readers, “botanical mythology” is a genre of storytelling that is inspired by the peculiar behaviours of plants. The genre is an offshoot of cryptobotany: the study of exotic plants of folklore and legend. Who knew?
Professor Khupe continued.
“There is a fascinating story by Dr. Lowell Manyepo. He was the most famous botanical mythologist that Africa ever produced. Probably the best in the world. The good scientist was a strange man with a floral imagination. His best-known tale was written more than fifty years ago, but it still raises goose bumps on the skin of every botany student. In fact, we share it with our freshman class during their orientation dinner.
“The story is about two lovers who were murdered by bad people. The killers buried the man’s body in the Valley Complex of Great Zimbabwe. The woman was buried near the
Conical Tower of the Hill Complex. The man is said to have died clutching a flame lily bulb that his lover had given him in happier times. Three days after the murders, the bulb germinated. The nutrients from the man’s decaying corpse fed the young sprout. It grew into a vine that began creeping towards the hill.
“As you know, the area around the Great Zimbabwe monument is not the most fertile terrain. But this vine made it all the way to the Conical Tower. It then burrowed into the rocky soil where it found the corpse of the man’s lover. Her flesh was gone, but her bones were still fresh. The plant dug its roots into her skeleton and tapped her marrow. That same day, the entire length of the vine bloomed. It was a floral chain of euphoria. All those who saw it felt peace in their hearts. Each petal on every bloom had a blue streak running down its length. This was evidence that the combined DNA of the two lovers had been integrated with that of the plant. By the following morning, the vine and all its flowers were dead. The man’s decaying flesh and his lover’s marrow were spent. Nevertheless, the lover’s union would live forever in the bulbs of a plant that could reproduce indefinitely.
“In practice, using human genes to create a blue streak down the length of a flame lily petal is impossible. Some of the world’s most prominent botanists have tried. This has long been the ultimate puzzle in our field.”
I asked Professor Khupe: “If scientists can engineer frost-resistant tomatoes by integrating the genes of fish from icy waters, why can’t they interweave human and plant genes?”
“Ah!” said the professor with a glee befitting an academic. “I will not venture into the minefield of genetics, but turning the myth into a reality is like mating a dragonfly with a brick.”
Dear Reader. Be honest. You tried to visualize the image, didn’t you? Well, regardless of which of our co-fornicators is male and which is female, it doesn’t end well for the dragonfly.
The mythology was interesting, but your columnist had to redirect the professor back to the real issue. So I asked him: “Why does this plant like to eat people?”
Professor Khupe nodded with a scholarly sense of decorum. My assertive questioning did not ruffle him.
“Legend has it that if a flame lily could be programmed to develop blue stripes along its petals, it would have special powers. The plant would have the ability to seek out certain nitrogen compounds that are only released by decaying human corpses. In the botanist community, we call this ‘cadaver-seeking behaviour’. I cannot say whether the behaviour itself is related to the blue streak. There is no body of research to consult. After all, our knowledge on the subject is based on a work of fiction. Dr. Manyepo enjoyed the liberty of manufacturing a dramatic premise without the burden of resolving the scientific improbabilities.”
I asked the professor if the flowers at Great Zimbabwe were feeding on buried bodies.
“I doubt that. The plants were too small. I believe they were feeding off the carcasses of rodents that died in their underground dens.”
“But don’t these plants only eat human cadavers?” I asked.
“No. That idea comes from the myth. Just because these plants’ genetic makeup has human DNA does not mean they can distinguish between a human body and the carcass of a rat. We may look different from other creatures, but when we die, we break down to the same basic elements. So though these plants can trace dead animal matter, there is no evidence they are partial to human remains.”
I asked him whether he was sure about this.
“Of course! If I was not, I would have filed a report with the police.”
The professor adjusted his spectacles again.
“Nevertheless, it is clear that these plants are not natural. They were developed by an exceptional genetic engineer. The person decrypted a puzzle that has long stumped the brightest minds in the life sciences. I believe the person who planted the vines at Great Zimbabwe wanted to feed off the legend ... or maybe to feed it. Either way, this breakthrough is more remarkable than the story of the two lovers.”
I pressed the professor. “Assuming these plants are capable of finding and eating human remains, why should we care? After all, the only difference between carnivores and plants is that the latter eat meat through ‘translator’ organisms. Maggots and bacteria ‘pre-chew’ dead animal matter, which plants then absorb as nutrients from the soil. And if eating pre-chewed food does not change the fact that a baby is human, why should a plant be any less a carnivore just because it out-sources the digestion of animal protein to organisms of decay?”
“I would not use that insensitive analogy, but, in principle, you are right. Carnivorous behaviour in plants is not as remarkable as it may seem at first glance,” replied the professor. “In fact, carnivorous plants are not that unusual. Many species have evolved a taste for meat when faced with poor nutrition in their native soil.
“Carnivorous plants come in many flavours. My favourite is the lobster-pot trap. The plant uses a simple but effective strategy to catch its meals. It has a chamber that is easy to enter but difficult to leave. Imagine yourself as an insect walking into a tunnel with a chalice full of delicious nectar at the end. As long as you keep walking towards it, everything is good. But if you decide to abandon your journey and turn around to find the exit, you are faced with a wall of sharpened spikes which has been advancing in behind you on your journey into the tunnel. So you have no choice but to keep moving forward. Unfortunately, you eventually discover that the nectar you were walking towards is a vat of acid. Of course, at that point, it’s too late.”
Of course.
“But humans have nothing to fear from such plants. Naturally, we are alarmed when a plant cuts out the middleman and starts ‘processing’ its own nutrition further up the food chain. We feel even more threatened when it becomes so proactive in a shorter period than the glacial laws of evolution allow.
“This fear is even depicted in another botanical myth. According to the ‘theory of cataclysmic-eutrophication’, all animal life will be destroyed if plants can be converted into carnivores. Once plants get a taste for meat, they will quickly realize there is so much of it around: in the jungles, the soil, and our beautiful cities. Then there will be a feeding frenzy. The planet’s vegetation will grow at a faster rate than it can be destroyed. All humans and animals will be swallowed in the ‘carnivorous green wave’.
“When all animal life becomes extinct, the plants will be forced to turn on each other. In the end, only one gigantic plant will remain. The monster’s tendrils will spread across the entire world. If it cannot evolve back to photosynthesis, it will eventually wilt and die, leaving the earth to microbes.
“Still, I would not worry about this plant. Whether it eats ‘meat’ directly or filters the ‘digested’ nutrition from the soil, it makes no difference. All living creatures need to eat. It does not matter what form the meal takes. As I said before, the basic elements of all nutrition are pretty much the same. In the end a sandwich and a pile of dung have more in common than their visual contrasts may indicate. Their molecular structures are arranged differently, that’s all. However, this subtle molecular variation can turn a savoury meal into a fecal ordeal.”
The professor glowed in anticipation of a compliment. His pride was wounded when I did not acknowledge the wit of his rhyme. My slight would not go unpunished. With pursed lips he said:
“Such a subtle difference can also turn a banal behaviour into a sensationalist news article. The real story here is the integration of plant and human DNA, not the plant’s carnivorous behaviour as such.”
Ouch.
The professor was evasive about my next set of questions. What if people started buying these plants by the ton? What if they started planting them all over the country? Could this vine become the new police dog of the murder squad? The Green Creeper ... Can you see where I am going with this, dear Reader? The Professor gave me an academic’s response to all these questions.
“It’s not that simple. There are many scientific prerequisites
that must be overcome before any of those questions become relevant. Reality has a long history of defying the simplistic premise.”
Whatever that means, thank you, Professor Khupe. Maybe I should test the theory myself? Maybe I should plant a vine atop a fresh grave somewhere in the city? If anyone learns of a funeral for someone they disliked, please let me know!
* * *
Great Zimbabwe Botanicals
Newspapers lie. Professor Khupe knew this when Zuva Redu asked him for an interview. Against his better judgment, he had agreed. How could he not? The peculiar story provided the perfect opportunity to educate the public about an important field of study. As a prominent botanist, Professor Khupe had long been troubled by how little the general public knew about the wonderful world of the plant sciences. Unfortunately, many developments in the field were printed in fat journals that were heavy enough to injure an elephant if thrown at the proper angle. Besides, unlike career academics, the average citizen had neither the time nor the desire to wade through the swamp of scientific methodology.
But newspapers were different. Journalists wrote for the mass market. However, they tended to suffer from a critical flaw. Readers wanted the world explained in simplistic terms. Villains and heroes had to be clearly defined. A modest medical breakthrough was always presented as a miracle cure. Worse, when a real miracle cure was actually discovered, it was usually reported in a single paragraph at the back of the paper. Even then, it had to compete with the daily comics, which enjoyed the advantage of being printed in colour. Of course, scientific progress was important. Nevertheless, it sold fewer papers than the story of the half-naked woman caught sneaking out of a politician’s car on some fateful night.
The media had the potential to become the frontline in the battle against ignorance. Unfortunately, most readers devoted too much of their intellectual capacity to frivolity. Professor Khupe found this infuriating. Zuva Redu found it profitable. The newspaper’s publishers knew that readers always paid attention to well-dressed headlines. Therefore, each edition was put together like a fashion show. Every article wore a miniskirt and shook its hips in that special way. It was even rumoured that every word in Zuva Redu was printed in mascara. It had to be true. Zuva Redu said so itself.
The Hangman's Replacement: Sprout of Disruption (BOOK 1) Page 9