Toast

Chapter 161,220 wordsCompleted

Snowman is perched on the fringe where grass, vetch, sea‑grape vines and sand meet, feeling the cooling air and a gnawing hunger that confirms his continued existence. A swarm of birds (ibises, herons, cormorants) settles in the overgrown rooftop gardens, and a single glowing green rabbit— a product of a long‑ago deep‑sea jellyfish experiment— wanders nearby. The rabbit’s translucent fur provokes violent, carnivorous thoughts, but Snowman restrains himself because the rabbit is sacred to the Children of Oryx and to Oryx herself; he blames his drunken past for the taboo and imagines Oryx laughing at his dilemma.

He then rehearses a myth he once told: Crake fashioned the Children of Crake from coral and mango flesh, while Oryx laid two massive eggs— one of animals, one of words. The word‑egg hatched first; the hungry Children of Crake devoured the words, leaving none for the later‑hatching animal‑egg, which explains why animals cannot speak. This story serves to reinforce his self‑perceived authority as the sole survivor who knew Crake.

When the first star appears, Snowman performs a childish “star‑light” wish, closing his eyes tightly and chanting “I wish I may, I wish I might… Have the wish I wish tonight,” despite knowing the odds are negligible.

Three older Children (members of the Children of Oryx/Crake) emerge from the dusk, curious about his muttering. They ask why he is “talking to Crake” and demand to see the “shiny thing” (his broken watch) he uses to listen to Crake. Snowman explains the watch is only for listening, then launches into a condescending mock‑lecture about respecting indigenous traditions, echoing a voice he imagines from a modern aid‑worker manual.

The children press for the meaning of “toast,” a vague threat Snowman used (“you’ll be toast”). He attempts a fragmented, increasingly absurd definition of toast, describing bread, flour, electricity, butter, a toaster, and the burning process, then dismisses toast as a pointless Dark‑Age invention, a ritual of torture, and finally declares, “Toast is me. I am toast.”

The scene underscores recurring themes: hunger as proof of life, the clash between primal violent impulses and imposed sacred taboos, Snowman’s reliance on myth and self‑constructed authority to cope with isolation, and the absurdity of trying to explain modern technology to a childlike audience, mirroring his broader struggle to make sense of the fragmented post‑apocalyptic world.