Brown Sugar

May 23, 2025

I wasn’t happy with yesterday’s Field Report #5 (but I think I redeemed myself with the later dispatch on strawberries) because I was distracted writing it. Why, I hope you’ll ask? Because I was sitting outside at a cafe — yes, Coffee Sheep (I am a creature of habit) — and on the tables were little bowls of sugar packets.

In addition to the sugar packets, there were swarms of children running about. All kinds. All ages. Almost like a plot from a sci-fi film, where the adult population has been annihilated in favour of children who then rule, either benevolently or despotically; their chosen method of leadership doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that those denizens of Battle Royale Island , as I started to think of this new adult-less society I was an unfortunate citizen of, had a strange thirst for packets of brown sugar. Soiled fingertips with nails chewed to stumps, their saliva-stained palms glistened in the sunshine, greedily stuffing these tiny paper packets into their pockets. Casually they walked off, stalking the sugar-ed prey of the next table and the next.

The Sugar Army

I couldn’t stop watching this strange ritual, child after child; was it some kind of ceremonial action marking the end of the Slovakian school year? Did they need to acquire at least 350 sugar packets or else succumb to summer-long months of mathematical equations? I noted none of them had a phone; maybe this was just a different form of stimuli.

I tried to write my Field Report, but dirt-ringed fingers kept pilfering my table’s sugar supply.

My laptop battery was near dead; I wasted countless minutes, probably hours, conjuring up a list of existing fictional worlds where children rule without adult supervision when in fact I really should be thinking about bridges and stuff. 1 But, no.

Anyway, I finally left.

As I was making my way back across the river (ugh) I spotted dozens and dozens of little paper packets fluttering in the wind, strewn amongst the cobbled streets. A group of boys were gripping onto something, tearing frantically, then cocking their heads back like they were loading a gun, pumping sugar down their throats as if they were 45 years-old and taking shots of vodka back at the farm to crack up a dull day . The boys abandoned the used-up packets carelessly, now useless except as litter, then jammed hands into pockets to reload and resupply their stomachs.

A photo by me of what happens when you slam vodka.

I then admonished myself for procrastinating so effectively. I am in the phase where I look for any and all distractions, something to occupy my brain with anything but I what I ought to be doing. I might take up this habit of gulping packets of sugar, maybe that’ll help me get on with it.

Here’s the list I came up with. You got any to add?

Battle Royale

Lord of the Flies (duh)

Nobody Knows

The Society

City of Lost Children

What about Children of Men, kind of an opposite story, where children are no longer being born and still a shitty world

Station Eleven

Peter Pan

Two Years Vacation, Jules Verne

Little Brother

The Maze Runner

Threads, kind of (reminder: never watch the movie again. Terrifying)

Why are they so dystopian?