I know what they call us. They call us “fruit.” I, an apple and you, an orange. But what exactly does that mean? What does it mean to be an orange?

     Well, what does it mean to be an apple? Perhaps it’s just their way of differentiating our two species apart—humans and "fruit."

     Yes, but if that were the case, why can’t they just call us by our names? So what if we have a few bruises every now and then? They get them too. Why do they see us as just objects? That’s not who we are, is it?

     No. It’s not. But perhaps it’s how they see us.

     What do you mean?

     Everybody—no matter what species—sees everyone differently. That’s just the way it is, and I think it’s beautiful that way.

     Beautiful? How is it beautiful being seen like that?

     Well… Orange struggled with its words. Then it continued: It’s not. But I suppose, that is the beauty in it—to know that others see us differently than how we see ourselves, even if how they see us hurts.

     It does hurt, Apple agrees. I mean, you know as well as I do, we’ve both come from strong and healthy trees, with dozens of family. We’ve both been picked—chosen, if you will—to grant great nourishment for these humans, and they have the liberty to treat us like this? As mere objects to devour?

     Yes. It is rather unfair. Believe me, I feel it too.

     Well, is there anything we can do about it?

     Do about it? Well, I don’t know. I don’t believe there is.

     That can’t be true. There must be something, Orange. I know they can’t speak our language and us theirs, but there must be a way to show them at least what they’re doing; who we are. We can’t just be silent about it.

     Yes, I agree, but Apple, you must see. There is no way. Some things are just not meant to be. You need to accept that.

     No. I can’t. I won’t, Apple replies, trembling at the mere thought of doing so. Come on, Orange. Surely, you don’t believe that. You know I’m right.

     I do. But I also know that I am right. There comes a time where you must accept the world as it is, as much as you don’t want to.

​

​

​

     Apple? You understand what I’m saying?

     Yes. Yes, I understand. But I don’t agree. I'm sorry, but I can't, and I don’t think I ever will. I’m not like you, Orange—someone who’s resigned to their fate, to what others think of you.

     App, I assure you, I haven’t ‘resigned’ to anything.

     Apple says nothing for quite some time, and it is quiet in their little bowl.

     Then, Orange goes on: Look at it this way. Them humans are different. They don’t yet understand. Some of them do, but many of them do not. They are simply unable to see our whole value.

     Then we should make them see it. Our whole value. Somehow.

     And what good will that do? Even if we could communicate it to them—that we are more than mere objects—you think they will believe us? How much weight do we have compared to them? Not much. To them, they are the superior ones. They are the ones to determine what is and what isn’t.

     So? We could change that.

     Maybe we could. But to avoid any further humiliation, they must come to terms with this truth on their own. We are alive, and growing, and dying out, and again being reborn. They must see—without rage or jealousy—that we are more than what they think we are. It is, unfortunately, the only way.

     We’re alive and we give them nutrition? That’s it?

     Yes.

     And what if they never see it on their own?

     They will, Orange promises. Eventually. They have people who know—people who study us—and as hard as it is to see them prying at us through a microscope, they are the ones who will change the greater population’s perspective.

     How?

     They are scientists. They have curiosity. Even if they don’t find whatever they’re looking for, they’re bound to find something. They’re bound to find the truth.

     Eventually, Apple finishes.

     Yes.

     How long will it take? asks Apple. How long must we wait while our brothers and sisters are taken away—taken for study? How long will they be in their laboratories?

     It’s difficult to say, Orange answers. Maybe months. Maybe years. Maybe decades. But the good news is: Every little bit they uncover brings them closer to understanding. Every time they poke through the skin of our relatives and run a new test, it brings them closer to finding out who we really are.

     Not just fruit, but fruit with cause, Apple says.

     Not just that, Orange adds, fruit with ailments to heal.

     Oh. You mean how having the humans consume us helps them reduce the likelihood of diseases.

     Yes, and much more.

     So, I guess what you’re saying is that we need to be patient.

     Precisely. Sooner or later, the time will come, and the humans might very well have a heart after all. Can you do that for me? Be patient, that is?

     Apple thought about it. It thought long and hard. Then finally, it looked to Orange and uttered, I suppose I ought to try.