LatinosUSA

A short story in Vietnamese by Lê Vĩnh Tài
Translator: Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

THE DISSERTATION OF A ROSE

You receive news of the blooming of an unregulated flower, your latest investigation.

You watched the petals open slightly then closed in a whirl, sprouting a tiny bud, conjuring crude imagery. You took pictures and sent them straight away to your team leader for further study. His message: “Are these the actual photos taken by you? You haven’t altered it in any way?”.

“Yes, that’s correct.” You replied.

“You must detain the person that has planted the flower immediately.” He ordered.

Stopping whatever you set out to do for the day, you secured your helmet on the bike before heading off. A dozen curious onlookers surrounded the flower while you took more photographic evidence, before pressing the buzzer for the owner of the flower.

“Yes, I’m coming.” A voice answered from inside.

You said: “I am an agent from the Department of Cultural Environmental Land Protection. I need to speak to the person who planted the flower.”

“Yes, that’s me.” The same man answered.

You lowered your voice: “May I come in?”.

As you enter the foyer, a man in an old woollen cardigan greets you, his scruffy long hair made him looked like an artist. He shook your hand, his hand was soft, it was shaking a little.

You began with: “Are you aware that your flower is…”

“…has bloomed against regulation, I know.”

“Then, why did you plant it?”.

He smiled politely. “Would you like a seat? I’ve just brewed a fresh pot of coffee.”

More sternly, you said: “All I need is a simple answer.”

The smile on his face disappeared. “Today is my daughter’s fourteenth birthday. She’s playing outside. She has never seen flowers.”

“Are you not aware of how such lewd images may affect people?”

He shook his head: “Brides may officially use flowers at a wedding. And since I’m a biologist, my work allows me to help buds to form petals and bloom.”

You’re aware he’s babbling like the usual instigators of all kinds of transgression. And it annoyed you: “So you mean to say, instead of a flower, you should be allowed to place a bomb in your garden? Don’t you have any regard for the peace of this community?” But it seemed he had stopped listening to you.

You continued: “Who’s your supplier for these seeds?”.

His silence pointed towards an accomplice, coy: “The world is changing, one day you will find yourself not wanting to deny your daughter to growing up without the experience of ever seeing a rose. It looks as though it’s bleeding. It reminds young women of their menstruation.”

You made up your mind then after the unrefined remark. You decided there and then to immediately detain him: “You are now in custody for the violation of code 2, article 22 of the National Image Exploitation Code of Conduct.” You know he won’t resist as you escort him from his property.

Your investigating team was already outside, pulling the each vulgar petal from the flowers.

“Hey, please stop!” He shouted at them: “Please take me, don’t take their petals.”

You passed him onto another officer. He continued to struggle, pleading: “I had carefully selected the seeds. The flowers do not exude such imagery; it is your eyes that deceive you, gentlemen. Please have faith in the roses. They are innocent.”

The officer in charge had already blindfolded him and pushed him into the windowless armoured vehicle. 

The growing crowd outside were increasingly more nervous, they’re aware that the expletive, the lewd imagery or threats, were unsubstantiated. They know, you’re good at planting evidence. They stared at you, chastising you: “My god, and you call yourself an associate professor, a doctor…”.

His daughter was momentarily crying, calling for her father: “Papa…”

You return to your work. The flowers packed away in the ute, all mangled and ready to be burned, you made a final inspection of the garden. Amongst the scattered soiled dust in red and yellow, a tiny light green speck caught your eye. You bent over and picked it up.

You were dazed by the surprise of the newly found seed.

“Hey,” you shouted at your team of investigators.

Some of them turned: “Yes, is everything okay?”.

You felt the tears at the corner of your eyes, as you placed the seed in your hand. It looked like the wings of an insect, with a plump tummy in between. Long ago, you used to spend all day playing with them, you would throw them in the air, and wait for them to spin as they fell slowly like a tiny helicopter, forgetting your mother was waiting for you to come home for dinner.

Under the rules and regulations, the seeds have to be destroyed with the flowers, but within your sudden epiphany, you realized, that some seeds can change the world. “We may be onto something here,” you said, your team was too busy with other concerns. They no longer pick flowers. They were more than aware that they were criminals, not biologists. “What if one day we find that we have made a mistake? What if the roses were not crude as we have made them out to be? Why were we so obsessive or were we brainwashed by an odd nefarious ideology?” you mumbled beneath your breath as you held tightly onto the seed. “We’re wrongfully alarmed. After so many false alarms, we have caused more harm.” You spoke as though you were crying, while the armoured car was already almost out of sight.

You went looking for the young girl after pocketing the few remaining seeds, you found her talking and laughing to herself in one corner of the garden. After they’ve taken her father, she’s lost her mind. But she’s ever wailing: “No, no…” deceivingly like you after causing such an incredible amount of pain to others.

You realised the garden like your imagination is now decimated after the vicious attack, as were the soft flowers in your tears. The only hope possible were the few seeds left in your pocket, they may eventually bloom and bleed from your very heart, dampening the chest of those onlookers.

You look at the young girl once more, because you knew she and the garden with the flowers shall disintegrate like the mist upon the touch of the legendary light from the seeds, ruby red like blood upon the left chest pockets of the innocent, now watching you.