Untitled Book: Chapter 1

It was evening and the sky was gold.

A breeze caressed. Music gently piggybacked on the breeze. Sax couldn't tell if it was Mozart or Beethoven. Or someone else.

Waiters coasted through the guests, topping up wine glasses. Fluid like. She wondered how they could be everywhere, but unnoticed by the guests.

The small stage looked fetching. Decorated with balloons and blue gold streamers. Corporate had plumped for cheerful and cute, evidently.

EMBRACE THE NEW, it said in large cut out letters. Times New Roman.

Kind of ruins the cute, Sax thought.

“Mon chère, star of the show.” Ives's familiar voice, accompanied by a wide grin. He gave Sax a tight 3-Mississippi hug. Sax felt at home.

“Is this all you?” Sax waved at the posh rooftop lounge.

Ives gestured and a waiter wafted over with canapes.

Sax took one. An explosion of flavor and gustatory pleasure. Shrimp and sour cream. She took one more.

Ives waited, expectant, indulgent.

“Of course, you did.” Ives nodded, his grin a tad wider.

A waiter, a different one, approached with two glasses and a bottle. “Cos d'Estournels, 2004,” she said, pouring Sax and Ives a glass.

“2004… you sure went all out,” exclaimed Sax, eyes widening.

“In honor of your birth year. Naturally, we spared no expense. It's an important occasion for all of us.”

“I'm glad they chose you. No one else knows my sour cravings.”

Ives blinked. “I volunteered!” A hint of protest. Almost hurt.

“Ah!”

The moment was awkward, but brief. From the stage, Peron tapped his glass and the guests dutifully gathered round.

“Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for being here today. To look forward.”

Someone whispered a congrats into Sax's ears and she smiled an acknowledgement. She didn't know who it was.

“Many of you have heard rumors about our ‘confidential’ new food line.” Scattered laughter punctuated Peron’s air quotes.

“I know, I know,” laughed Peron. “It hasn't been the secret I had hoped it would be. But, I'm not going to indulge those rumors today.”

“Without being hyperbolic, I believe we are at the single most important juncture for our 65-year-old institution. We already are the world's most loved food brand. This new line will also make us the world's most exclusive and coveted.”

"Direct to restaurant, and we will be available only at the finest, helping them push the envelope of fresh cuisine. There will be a new benchmark for exclusivity. Us."

"Stars, athletes, presidents, royalty, the Pope, the rich and the famous will seek us out. And, of course, guess what the intellectuals and geniuses of this generation and the next will choose to dine on," he paused with rhetoric flourish, to applause.

"I can tell you it wasn't easy. We have engineered a fresh new supply chain, connecting the oceans to our labs to the partner kitchens. Built-to-order private jets for every leg of the journey. Obviously, we have invested in building a substantial advantage over our competition and we intend to retain it."

He rambled on and Sax drifted. Louder applause and grand music brought her back to the rooftop. Peron was enthusiastically, and dramatically, gesticulating the other way.

The crowd turned and, on cue, balloons were set afloat behind the crowd. There was even a kite. The last balloon was huge and shaped like an octopus. It was tethered to the roof and rose behind the small group. Sax heard gasps. The octopus, iridescent, white, glowed. Strobes from the ground as the octopus glimmered and sparkled its way into the darkening sky. Sax had no doubt it would be visible for many blocks. Next to her, Ives whooped. A few others joined in.

As the applause died, Peron invited Sax on stage. Many whispered wishes as Sax made her way through the small crowd. She joined him there and he offered her a toast. He rambled on for a couple of more minutes. Institution. Brand. Future. Culture. Felt more like an hour. She peered into the crowd and smiled at the couple of people she recognized. Ives among them, looking pleased. Ives was easily pleased.

“And, today, I wanted you all to meet Sasha, whose baby boy will be the face of the new Michelin exclusive line.” More ovation. Sax blushed. And felt pride and delight welling up, as she involuntarily rubbed her baby bulge.

A cake was brought to the stage. She cut it. Offered some to Peron who gobbled it up… she remembered her goldfish flapping up to the surface of the bowl when she dumped pellets in.

He offered her some and she politely nibbled on it. She thought she heard another whoop from Ives. Peron hugged her. She felt an uncomfortable hardness jutting into her tummy but she quickly banished the thought and the hug was over. So ended the formal celebration and she stepped back into the crowd and Ives gravitated towards her.

“You must be starving. Let's eat.”

“Let me get another wine first.” The wine appeared in her hand from one of the seemingly-telepathic waiters.

Sax looked at the spread longingly, Ives proudly. Lobster, octopus, shrimp, and an assortment of sinfully sweet and sour dessert. There were even cherry bombs.

Sax ate and mingled. People came by and expressed their happiness. They seemed genuinely happy for her good fortune. She, and her baby, had been picked from thousands. Maybe several thousands, though she had no idea how the selection was made. The odds had never been in her favor. Not then, not through her life.

But, now, it was her time.

Waiters offered more wine but she refused. Two was the prescribed limit. The food and dessert kept going down though. She felt a kick from the baby. Especially with the tiny cherry bombs.

There was dancing too. Ives asked her for a dance. She didn't want to but didn't have the heart to refuse. They danced slowly to Brahms' Lullaby. A strange song to dance to, but somehow, this evening, felt apt.

The night wound down with some of the guests becoming more flippant and rowdier. She decided to leave and Ives escorted her to the waiting limo.

“Shall I drop you off?”

“I'm fine, Ives. Tired. I'll see you Monday.”

He waved as the limo left the kerb.

Sax peered out the rear windshield and saw the giant octopus, up above, framed against the darkness. She shivered and turned away.

There was a buzz in the city. Champion players were spotted by excited fans. A steady stream of selfies with the players inundated social media.

With a $220 million prize pool, this was the tennis event of the year. And the marketing matched the billing.

Billboards all over town had been brought out for a month. Stars beamed down on the passing crowds, exhorting them to buy everything. From hair regrowth pills to sushi to sneakers to vacations. Even the buses and trains were just mobile billboards.

There was a buzz in the city.

Hayashi san couldn't enjoy the buzz. His overarching response was anxiety. A lot hinged on him pulling off the Dish of the Decade for the tournament winner.

All he had been told was that he would receive the ingredient at 6 PM. He had two hours before the Champion, the Prime Minister, the CEO, and the world's media, arrived at the Fuguino. And he had to serve the Dish of the Decade.

Hayashi san wasn't unfamiliar with the spotlight. He had served celebrities many times.

But he usually knew what he had to cook with. This time, he didn't. And, he had never been asked to sign an elaborate NDA or leave his phone at home and switch off the security cams for the day.

And, no other kitchen or serving staff for the day.

Hayashi san had to do it all alone. He had not done that in two decades. The wife helped when he cooked at home. But, his style was minimal and he was cooking for an audience of three. So, he was assured that he could pull it off. Perhaps why he, and his hotel, was chosen.

The fee was handsome and that assuaged many of Hayashi san's concerns.

Fuguino was widely considered the best place for sea food, especially puffers and octopus. He was the third-generation chef and owner of Fuguino. He had resolutely stayed away from venture capital. He didn't need funding. He wasn't interested in footprint.

The only time Fuguino floundered was when octopus fishing was banned. Activists had convinced the government to institute controls on the fishing of pelagic octopus in the Pacific. Their numbers had dwindled alarmingly over two decades as consumption increased everywhere. The government announced a Fund for Octopus Based Business Recovery for businesses that were affected by the fishing ban.

Restaurants like Fuguino needed the help as ocean-fished octopus became hard to come by. Hayashi san's patronage dwindled and he had to shut down for a few months. But, his savings and the government's Fund for Octopus Based Business Recovery loan helped tide over the period.

Hayashi san never voted for a different party after FOBR. He was loyal that way and his politics ended there. ‘They’ had his back and he couldn’t care less about anything else.

The activism and government response to ban octopus consumption had a perverse, but predictable, effect. A lot of FOBR loans were handed out to octopus farms, where they were bred in giant tanks, like shrimp. Octopus farms bloomed, even as ocean populations stagnated. Octopus went from expensive to affordable and popular.

After months of negotiations with activists and political representatives, the government reinstated licenses for fishing octopus from the ocean. To protect ocean populations, fishing female octopus became illegal, carrying a prison sentence and large fines. Compliance and fisheries squads randomly checked fishing boats at sea and at the docks. Licenses began to be auctioned.

The technical requirements were stringent and the licenses expensive. The licensees were scrutinized diligently, from their people to the boats, nets, and supply chain. No fisheries expert on the team? Cannot identify a hectocotylus from a picture? Can't answer questions on keeping octopus alive at sea? Rejected. Octopus fishing became tightly controlled, better policed, and more expensive.

Many restaurants and chefs switched to factory fresh octopus, cooking an unimaginable variety of dishes with them. They thrived.

So did Fuguino and Hayashi san. Hayashi san stayed away from factory farmed octopus. He made his name cooking octopus from the ocean and he never wavered. His clientele could afford expensive, ocean fished octopus.

The decision paid off. Fuguino was one of only three restaurants with the Michelin Cephalopod Fresh rating.

This was the singular moment that could cement Hayashi san’s legacy. Or, flush it down the toilet.

Hayashi san, though, was a skilled optimist. He fully intended to use the cameras to catapult him to global fame. He was determined to serve up a gustatory experience for the ages to his three guests, while the cameras transported the world into Fuguino.

The buzz within was catching up with the buzz without.

Note to collectors

You can directly collect this chapter. Or, you can collect my meta-article below and get an airdrop of this chapter, till editions last. If not (lol), I will airdrop from subsequent chapters.

https://www.fxhash.xyz/article/blocks-and-chapters:-serendipity-and-chaos

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