“I need you to think carefully, Bread.” It was another day of questions. The man tapped a few times on the window. It changed scenery like some sort of electronic screen. “That is your name now, yes?”

Bread nodded.

“What comes to mind when you see this?” The man tapped a few more times, and the surrounding walls—not just the window—all suddenly came to life, engulfing the room in a moving image—vast, densely packed tropical trees. 

“A forest…” He could almost breathe in the dampness, feel the humidity sticking to his skin. The smell of rotting bark and debris clogged his throat, almost intoxicating the way it stuck to the insides of his mouth. He hadn’t experienced it before, yet his senses were heightened by the entrancing atmosphere. It was like he was actually there to witness the vastness of the trees before him. 

“No, I meant in a more abstract manner.”

“Abstract?” Did he mean unrealistic? But how could this forest ever be considered unrealistic?

The man shook his head. He almost looked disappointed. “What does that make you feel?” This time, he pointed at the sun. 

“Warm?” Bread answered. 

“No, I want more. Give me more.”

He thought for a moment, rummaging through his inner records. What more did he know about the sun? What more was he supposed to say? “It’s a source of vitamin D?”

“No!” the man cried. “No, not—” He exhaled loudly. “The sun. We all know that it’s a sun, but everyone has a different definition of what the sun makes them feel. For example, to me, this sun is abhorrent. I despise how bright it is. Now, what does this sun make you feel?”

What does it make me feel? How was he supposed to know? Common sense told him nothing about questioning what he feels about an inanimate object such as the sun. 

“Never mind that then.” The man pointed at a tree. An ipê tree. “Does that incite anything inside you?”

Incite?

“Emotions!” he yelled. “Do you feel?! Anything!”

Bread instinctively retreated a little every time he shouted. But emotions? Was it common sense to feel emotions when you looked at a tree?

The man shook his head. “You don’t understand anything, do you?”

He didn’t. He didn’t understand a single thing.

“Does this image not elicit any emotions?”

Emotions… Like anger? No, he didn’t feel anger, but he did feel… “Thankful?” Was that the right thing to feel?

“Thankful? Of all things…” The man took another glance at the tree in question. He tapped his foot incessantly while the silence permeated the room. “Thankful…” he repeated. “Why is that?”

“Because trees produce thirty percent of our planet’s oxygen.”

“You’re thankful… for that?” His tapping intensified. Then it eventually tapered off. “That’s… something, I suppose. A bit unwieldy of an explanation though.” He touched the screen again. This time, it changed to an oasis surrounded by a steaming, hot desert. Palm trees waved faintly in the passing wind; the water rippled in return.

Bread looked at the barren scape. The oasis in the center was providing the palm trees with much needed nutrients and water. There was no other plant life in sight—most likely a sandy desert eroded over time by wind. 

“Well?” The man waited for a response—an emotional one.

He didn’t have one. It was just a desert. 

“Okay.” With a few more aggressive taps on the wall, the man changed the scenery again—a beach. 

It was sandy like the desert, humid like the forest. The waves crashed onto the lonely shoreline before him. The scent of fish and salt—it was subtle but refreshing. It was new, and yet, it was oddly familiar.

Birds flew in the distance—seagulls, albatross… They glided through the air, disappearing into the far horizon past the dull, red sun. A lulling sensation washed over him, and that same feeling of familiarity started trickling in. The vast openness of the world he was barred away from, the life he could never live… It all reminded him of a feeling that was all too nostalgic—a feeling that naturally welled up inside, drowning him in a thought he’d once had before…

“I want to fly.”

The man frowned. “That’s not an emotion.” Without missing a beat, the man changed it again. With more haste this time. All within a flash. 

And Bread watched as his dreams died along with the view—the moment his world was drenched in an overwhelming sadness he never knew he could feel. But he didn’t say a word. Instead, he stared at the walls that confined him in this small enclosure of a room and gave up. That feeling of nostalgia and longing, that yearning for release. A new experience. He gave it all up in that instant. 

One by one, bright sparkles eventually replaced the birds. Stars dotted the night sky, laughter filled the air, fireworks boomed—a carnival. Everything around him changed, everything was more cheerful… 

But he didn’t feel a thing. 

The man spoke, asked a few more questions—“Do you feel anything,” “Are you awake?” He’d mentioned emotions again, wondered if the carnival setting was too loud or disruptive, but Bread gave no response. 

To him, it was actually kind of nice, immersed in this swamp of tumultuous sounds. He could finally lose himself, separate his dreams from his reality. He could finally escape. And before long, the man too had given up for the day and left. 

But Bread continued to watch the carnival lights blazing past his eyes. He drowned himself in the erratic beating of music, the smell of popcorn and sugar. He closed his eyes, letting the experience wash over himself… and then he dreamed…

He dreamed of a place where it was mountainous. Trees were growing, the air was whistling crisp chirps, and the river was clear as glass. He dreamed of flying through the air, feeling the wind blow through, ruffling his feathers. He dreamed of a life unfettered, unexposed to the corruptions of his mind—those fleeting thoughts of sadness, anger…

He finally dreamed that he was free.