A person of Neshiyah
Oded Harel, baker
Baker
Oded Harel
Baker, about 93 years old. Born in Neshiyah, like everyone.
Oded Harel, ninety-three, folds dough with the patience of a man who has never once been late. Flour dusts his forearms to the elbow, and he hums—a low, tuneless note—while the morning loaves proof beneath damp cloths. His habit is to tap the oven door three times before opening it, a rhythm the town has come to expect like the bell at noon. He wants only for the river to stay where it is, so he can sit on the bench and watch it carry the light. People say he is easy, quick to nod at anything, and they are right. On day twenty-nine, a guard turned him back at the fog line, and Oded thanked him, then went home. On day thirty-four, he fell asleep and did not wake. The baker was a fixture, like the bridge or the smell of yeast, and the town has not yet decided what to do with the empty bench.
Temperament
Curious when something is in front of them; quick to believe what they are told; hard to anger; always in company; given to sitting by the river.
What people say
Oded Harel believes what everyone believes: the fog is the edge of the world, and the fields need working whether it is true or not.
What the record shows
- day 34 Oded Harel, the baker, died at 93, of old age. In their last days people said they were asleep.
- day 29 A guard at the end of the south road turned Oded back at the fog line with a reminder that the Council prefers people to stay at their work.
Oded Harel died on day 34.