The Orange Grove

The Orange Grove(Brian Leibold) It was the beginning and all the oranges in the groves were juicy and full of color. If tasted, they would all have tasted good and none of them would have tasted the same. But they were untasted, untasted and untested. Some oranges were sweet and some were sour, some oranges were in the sun and some were in the shade, but they were all good. Some were a little redder, others had a yellowish tinge, some were smaller and others were bigger. Each of them was different in some way, but they were all good.

The oranges laughed and were happy in the sun. They talked amongst themselves, they hung out in the trees. No one wondered how to hang, or whether they were hanging in a bad way or a good way. No way to hang was a bad way to hang. All ways to hang were good.

One day, in Orange Grove County, the oranges in that grove were squeezed for the first time. They were squeezed without regard to color or taste or shape. All oranges were squeezed without discrimination, though some oranges had more juice that could be squeezed out of them than others. The one who squeezed the oranges came down from a hill, squeezed the juice from every orange, and went back up the hill. Elsewhere, the same thing was happening. All oranges in their groves were being squeezed and their juice was being collected for something. The oranges didn't know what their juice was being collected for. They didn't even know who was squeezing them for their juice. The one who squeezed them didn't seem to have a face.

After the oranges had been squeezed, they felt a little strange. They didn't have the energy they used to, they felt drained, dry. They still had juice in them, but it wasn't the same. They felt exhausted hanging from the tree. A few looked down at themselves and saw that they were less colorful than before, their orange was less orange, their yellow didn't shine as much as it used to, their red seemed to have less blood in it.

The second time the oranges in Orange Grove County were squeezed, the orange named Tangeria asked a question.

"Why are we being squeezed?" the orange named Tangeria asked.
"You are being squeezed for your juice," the one who squeezed the oranges said.

And that settled it. The oranges breathed a collective sigh of relief. This was good. Before they had just been hanging from a tree. Now they were being squeezed for their juice. This was better than before. The oranges felt the color return, felt their juice come back a little. But Tangeria was not satisfied.

"How can we get back the juices that you squeeze from us?" Tangeria asked the one who squeezed the oranges.
"Lie in the sun and your juice will be replenished. Lie in the sun together and in this way everybody will be replenished together. The sun will give you back the juices which I squeeze from you. It will be a way to get your juices back as you strengthen the bonds of the grove. Friendships will be formed by this act of inclusive community. No one is excluded from lying in the sun. In fact, everyone must do it. Lie in the sun together for one hour and that will give you all the juice you need," the one who squeezed the oranges said.

All the oranges laughed and shouted with glee. This was all so much better than before. Not only were they being squeezed for their juice now instead of just hanging from the tree, they could get all their juice back just by lying together in the sun. All the oranges thought this was better than ever. Tangeria alone was unsure of what to think of it all. Why did he feel so drained of juice? Why did he feel so dry and colorless? He hoped lying in the sun would help. He wanted his juice back. What did the one who squeezed the oranges have to take his juice for? That was all Tangeria had. He needed his juice.

When the one who squeezed the oranges had left, the oranges all lay down in the sun to get their juices back. Tangeria was among them, for all the oranges needed to lie in the sun together. That was what the one who squeezed the oranges had said.

As the oranges of Orange Grove County were lying in the sun, the orange named Clementine was lying down next to Tangeria. Clementine was a juicy orange, and Tangeria had always gotten a little redder than usual when talking to her. He wondered what her texture was like. Was she soft? Tangeria thought that Clementine had to be soft.

"Isn't this great?" Clementine asked Tangeria. "Isn't it nice out here in the sun? I can feel my juices replenishing already. I'm feeling very juicy. How about you?"

Tangeria hesitated. What should he say? He was a little distracted by Clementine's luscious figure. The truth is that Tangeria didn't feel juicy at all, he felt juiceless.

"I feel that lying here in the sun is kind of fruitless," Tangeria responded dryly.

Clementine didn't get the joke. She didn't know she was a fruit.

"What do you mean?" Clementine asked.
"I mean that I'm not a cactus, I'm a fruit, I'm supposed to be juicy and not dry, the sun will just dry me out. Don't you feel like you're being dried out?" Tangeria asked Clementine.
"Not even! The man who squeezes our juice said that we'll all be replenished by lying in the sun, and the sun will give us back our juices. Maybe it just feels weird to get your juices back at first. But I'm sure over time you'll get used to it!" Clementine said brightly.
"Sure, maybe," Tangeria said.

The oranges of Orange Grove County lay for an hour together in the sun, and afterwards they all felt replenished and juicy. They laughed and felt that all was right with the grove. Tangerina felt drained.

In fact, the sun had drained them all. The sun drained them all the same, and they were all less juicy than they had been before. Before lying together in the sun, each of the oranges had been different in some way, but the sun drained them all the same. After lying in the sun, the oranges that had been a particularly vivid shade of red were less red, the oranges that had been unusually sweet were less sweet, the oranges with unique zany shapes were rounded, and the oranges with unique edgy textures were smoothed. The sun and the squeezings had changed the oranges.

The oranges didn't know this. They did not realize that they were being changed. Tangeria felt that he alone was able to feel what the sun was doing. The oranges were being drained together. The thing with the sun was that it dried them, but it gave them the impression that they were getting back the juice they had lost. It was as bad as the squeezing. It was worse. The sun was even worse than the squeezing because it did the opposite of what it was supposed to do.

The one who squeezed the oranges came down from the hill for the third time. The oranges were excited and content. They had begun to enjoy being squeezed. It had not taken long. When it came time for the one who squeezed the oranges to squeeze Tangeria of his juice, Tangeria refused to be squeezed.

"What do you mean you refuse?" the one who squeezed the oranges asked.
"I refuse. I will not be squeezed."
"But you have to be squeezed. It's the rule. All oranges must be squeezed."
"Why? I don't understand. We were never informed that we were going to be squeezed. You just came down from the hill and started squeezing. What do we get from this? Where is our juice going? I want to keep my juice, it's all I have."
"You are squeezed for your juice. It does not matter where your juice goes, just know it goes where it needs to go. You get to know that your juice is being used. If you weren't being squeezed, you would keep all your juice, and it wouldn't go where it needs to go. What would be the point of all your juice just hanging from a tree? You're not doing any good hanging from a tree if you aren't being squeezed."
"My juice doesn't need to go anywhere. I need my juice more than anybody else needs it. If no one is squeezed of juice, then all will have the juice they should have. No one will be lacking in juice, so no one will need to be squeezed. It will be like it was, and we will not question why we hang from the tree. If we oranges of Orange Grove County are all squeezed, then some will have too much juice, and we will not have enough."
"You must all lie together in the sun," the one who squeezed the oranges said. "That way your juices can be replenished. There is no more to say."

The one who squeezed the oranges left without waiting for a response. The other oranges looked suspiciously at Tangeria. Who was this orange who dared defy the one who squeezed the oranges? Didn't he know that the oranges had always been squeezed? That was the way, and there was no other way, and there had never been any other way. The oranges of Orange Grove County by this point believed that they had always been squeezed. They had short memories. To them, hanging on the tree without being squeezed was comparable to refusing to replenish one's juices by sitting in the sun. In short, it was the most heinous of crimes, and continuing in it would ultimately result in exile from the grove.

Tangeria felt all alone in the grove. He wished he could fall from the tree and roll and roll and roll away from this grove, away from all these oranges who were losing their color and texture and shape, away from all these dried up colorless fruits who produced less and less juice daily, these producers who soon would be unable to produce, these producers who didn't know why they were producing or who they were producing for. But he knew he must stay. He must try to convince the other oranges somehow of what he believed. He didn't know how he would convince them, but he knew he had to try.

By laboring, these oranges were losing their fruit, by lying in the sun they were losing their ability to see and perceive what was happening. The sun made them feel warm and made their eyes sleepy and made their bodies happy, so they didn't see that they were changing, they didn't see that their efforts to restore their lost juices were fruitless, they didn't see that they were becoming emptier with each squeezing and hour in the sun.

When the other oranges went to lie together in the sun for the third time, Tangeria stayed on his branch thinking about how he would leave this grove. There must be someplace I can go where I will not be squeezed, Tangeria thought. There must be somewhere I can hang from a tree not thinking about why I'm hanging and be full of juice and color. And I'm going to find it, Tangeria told himself, I'm going to find that place.

It was not long before the other oranges sensed something was wrong. The vibe was off, something was definitely off. Lying in the sun did not seem to be restoring them of their juices as it had before. It was Clementine who finally realized what was wrong. Where was Tangeria? He usually lay down next to her, but he was not there. She raised the alarm. There was widespread panic. He must be here, everyone must lie together in the sun, or else nothing will happen, or else everything will stay the same. It was only through the collective power of every single orange in the grove lying together in the sun that the oranges could get all their juices back. One absent orange was a significant blow to the effort to strengthen the community bonds of the grove and to recover the squeezed juices.

The oranges went together to find Tangeria. They did not have to look hard, as he had just been hanging from his branch. All the oranges called up to him together.

"What are you doing up there all alone in your branch, Tangeria? Don't you know that it is time to lie together in the sun and restore the juices which have been squeezed?"
"I do not want to lie in the sun," Tangeria answered. "I will stay up in my branch today."
"This is unacceptable, we cannot allow this, Tangeria. If you do not lie in the sun, then no one will have their juice restored. It is necessary that you come down and join us as we all must lie in the sun together."
"I will not do it. You must let me be or exile me, but you cannot force me. The sun dries me. It dries everyone, but it blinds you all so you cannot see that you are blinded and dried up. One day you will see what I mean. One day you will know, and suffer for your knowledge."

Tangeria's refusal to come down from his branch affected everyone. Few felt that their juices had been restored this time. The one who squeezed the oranges must be right. All had to lie together in the sun, or nothing could be done. If only one orange did not join, there could be no restoration of necessary juices. Doubt began to creep under the orange peels. Some oranges began to feel heavier, like they were weighed down by all the juice inside them which was to be squeezed out, as if they carried a load just to carry it, a load which would never be delivered. Were they made to be juicy only to have all their juice squeezed out before they could figure out what else to do with it? Was there no other way? Would it be the same tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, until they had no more juice left? Still, how could they refuse the one who squeezed the oranges? The one who squeezed the oranges was so big, and the oranges were only oranges, and so small.

The day of the fourth squeezing came. The oranges saw the one who squeezed the oranges walk down the hill. Where before there had been excitement, now the general feeling was one of dread. Tangeria, by refusing to lie with the others in the sun, by hanging obstinately on his branch, had brought doubt into the grove, where before it had been absent. Some people denied their doubts, they didn't allow doubt in their peels. No doubt in this peel! There was little hope for these oranges. They would soon be dry and devoid of color. Other oranges worked through their doubts sensibly. They tried to be reasonable and not to let personal opinion get in the way of universal fact. The fact was that all oranges had to have their juice squeezed. It would not be reasonable or sensible to fight the one who squeezed the oranges of their juice. These oranges before they knew it would also be dry. It does not do to be sensible in a situation that makes no sense, where there is no reason to be reasonable.

The one who squeezed the oranges was now in the grove.

"Attention," the one began, "there is a rule which will go into effect starting now. All oranges will now be called by number. It is easier this way. You will now be called Orange #1, #2, #3, and so on. All will be numbered based on the branch from which they are hung. Thus, what branch you hang from now will be the branch you hang from for as long as you hang. This is the only announcement. Now we begin the squeezing. Hold your questions until after you have been squeezed, although I predict there will be no questions after all are squeezed."

The one who squeezed the oranges gave each orange the number which corresponded with the branch that orange hung from. Tangeria was now Orange #56. There were 72 oranges in all. Clementine was #55. The doubts that had creeped under the orange peels faded as the oranges were given their numbers. Today the sun was shining, and there were no clouds in the sky. The under peels of the oranges, which had been beset by strange clouds themselves, were clearing with the sky. There was something about being given numbers that pleased the oranges. It was new and different and made them feel important, like they were numbered parts in a great infinite numberless whole. They felt more important than had felt before with their plain old names. They were moving up in the grove.

The fourth squeezing began. The oranges hung happily from the trees and waited expectantly to be squeezed.

Tangeria did not think he could take many more squeezings. He had begun with so much juice. The one who squeezed the oranges had smacked and licked his lips during the First Squeezing when he came to Tangeria. He had said,

"Well, you're a juicy one, aren't you? I would never have expected it by looking at you, but you've got quite a bit of juice in you."

The oranges who didn't have much juice to begin with were not affected so much by the squeezings. It was easy for them to dismiss the loss of what juice they had, to deny it, to convince themselves that the squeezings were good. This was not possible for Tangeria. He could not dismiss the squeezings, he could not deny that they left him feeling like a bare fruit who would never bear fruit, dry and lifeless.

The one who squeezed the oranges came to branch #56.

"Orange #56. Get your juices ready and prepare to be squeezed."

Tangeria almost gave up and let himself be squeezed, let himself be grasped in the hand of the one who squeezed the oranges. So much of his juice had been squeezed already. But he could not do it. Although it would have been easier, although it would have been less trouble, he could not do it. Something in him rebelled against being squeezed, something in him would always rebel. The other oranges were not like him. They enjoyed being squeezed, or were able to tell themselves that they enjoyed it because it was more comfortable to accept being squeezed than to resist it.

But Tangeria knew he would always resist it, he knew the comfort that came from accepting the squeezings was worse by far than the discomfort that came from resisting them. The false sense of contentment and community that came from lying together in the sun was worse than the discontentment and feeling of isolation that came with refusing to be made dry and colorless and without juice.

The one who squeezed the oranges squeezed Tangeria for the fourth time. Tangeria did not yet know how to physically resist being squeezed. That was something he would learn over time. But he did know that no matter how many times he was squeezed, he could never be squeezed of all his juice.

The one who squeezed the oranges could never squeeze all the juice out of Tangeria. Tangeria would always have his juice.