The Tithe of the Pale Root

Folklore

[Recording begins. Sound of a crackling hearth and the shuffling of small feet on stone.] Elder: Now, settle. Stop kicking each other. If you want to understand why we eat in February, you have to understand the Tithe. It is not a ghost story, despite what your cousins told you. It is a matter of bookkeeping. [Child 1]: Why does it glow? Elder: The bioluminescence is a byproduct of the nutrient synthesis. The Pale Root feeds on something more dense than nitrogen or phosphorus. It requires a specific kind of emotional weight to trigger the flowering. Without that weight, the tuber stays dormant, and the Frost takes the village. It is a biological exchange. We provide a memory; the Root provides a starch that can survive a frozen aquifer. [Child 2]: Does it hurt when it goes away? Elder: Not in the way a scraped knee hurts. Imagine you have a favorite stone in your pocket. You carry it for years. One day, you realize the pocket is empty. You do not feel the loss of the stone, because you no longer remember that you ever had one. There is no hole left behind, only a smooth space where the thought used to be. It is quite efficient, really. [Child 1]: But what if it is a really good memory? Like a wedding? Elder: That is precisely why it must be the favorite. A mediocre memory, like the time you tripped in the mud, does not have enough caloric value for the soil. The Root is a demanding crop. It requires a peak experience. If the oldest resident surrendered a boring afternoon, the harvest would be thin, and we would be rationing sawdust by midwinter. It is a civic duty. One person forgets a first kiss or a child's first word, and in exchange, three hundred people do not starve. The mathematics of the arrangement are indisputable. [Child 2]: Who is the oldest now? Elder: Old Martha. She has lived through four Great Frosts. She has already given up the memory of her favorite dog, the smell of her mother's kitchen, and the feeling of her first swim in the lake. She is a very lean woman in the mind, but she is healthy, and her belly is full of the very root she helped grow. [Child 1]: Is she sad about it? Elder: How can one be sad about something they cannot remember? She is perfectly content. She looks at the indigo glow in the cellars and knows she did her part. It is the same as paying a tax or repairing a fence. We all contribute to the survival of the collective. Some give labor, some give coin, and the eldest give the things they no longer have the youth to use. [Sound of a heavy door opening, wind whistling through.] Elder: That is the bell. Go on, get your coats. The planting begins at dusk, and we must ensure the soil is warm enough for the transfer.