— Pika Palu Eggs —
The boy burst into the room with an anguished cry. “Grandfather!”
A man in his prime looked up and placed the book he was reading on the table. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
The boy scrunched up his face. “The pika palu are dead!”
The man pushed back his chair and stood. He and the boy strode off toward the room where the pika palu, the shining leaves, were kept.
Sunlight poured through a large bay window that looked out onto a courtyard. A huge aquarium stood in the room. Green fronds swayed in the clear water, and beneath them floated dead gray leaves. The boy peered at the tank and then gazed up at his grandfather. His lips trembled.
“I looked after them properly, just like you told me. I changed the water and—”
The boy’s grandfather laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right. It’s not your fault.”
“But!”
“Relax. Look closer. Do you see something on the weeds?”
The boy frowned and stared at them, pressing his forehead against the glass. His eyes grew round. “Oh!” he breathed. Countless tiny beads clung to the leaves. He looked up at his grandfather. “Eggs?”
The man nodded. “That’s right. Eggs.” He looked into the tank. “Every pika palu dies as soon as it has laid its eggs.”
The boy’s face clouded over. “They die without raising their children?”
The man nodded. “Pika palu aren’t the only living things that must fend for themselves from birth. It’s the case for a surprising number of creatures.”
The boy gazed into the aquarium as though lost in thought. “But why? Why do they die as soon as they lay their eggs? Do the eggs kill them?”
His grandfather shook his head. “No.” He fixed his eyes on the leaflike objects floating silently in the tank. “They already have the seeds of disease inside them.”
“They what?”
“Pika palu carry the seeds of disease within them.” His grip on the boy’s shoulder tightened slightly. “All living things do. They live for as long as they endure but perish once they give in.” He sighed. “Just like everything else in this world.”