He who controls the Spice, controls dinner!

As I do every month here, I'm going to repost the basics about the Melange which is so basic to our lives, and add whatever new things I may have learned recently. As I've said a thousand times, I'm hardly the Kwisatz Haderach; I'm still just learning to use this incredible substance. Hopefully, you've are enjoying my Year of Living Spicily - and if you're using spice-induced prescient powers to read my future posts, hopefully you're enjoying them, as well.

The spice melange - a byproduct of the lifecycle of the Arrakin Sandworm - is, obviously, the single most valuable and important substance in the universe. It is also an exercise in contradictions. In minuscule doses, it is responsible for elongating our lives by hundreds of years. However, as little as a gram a day is enough to get one irrevocably addicted - and, as everyone is taught in high school health class, Spice withdrawal is inevitably fatal. And in large doses, it... changes you. The Guild Navigators use it - space travel would be impossible without it - but it requires that they use so much of it that they become irrevocably mutated. In such high doses, it can lead to precognition, as well... but honestly, from what I've heard, people who learn about the future tend to wish that they had been mutated instead.


I'm sure you guys have heard this story a thousand times by now... but I never get tired of telling it. My dad is actually from Arrakis - or "Dune", as the media calls it these days. He was a Freman, working with House Atreides against the Harkonnens. My mom was a Bene Gesserit, who left the Chapterhouse to go backpacking across the universe. They met right after the Battle of Arrakeen; my dad spoke Freman, my mom Galach. They didn't have a way to communicate with each other... but my mom's love for my dad was so strong that she used her Bene Gesserit mind-witchery to instantly learn how to speak his language.

I don't know - I've just always found that story so romantic.


Almost everyone, the first time they smell or taste Spice, thinks that it reminds them of cinnamon. (Next week, I'll be talking about cinnamon - in passing - as I continue with more explanation of how to use the Melange.) As people get more and more exposed to it, though, virtually everyone reports that the taste changes. When paired with almost any food, the melange operates to enhance whatever the natural flavor is. This holds true even for fairly unexpected or exotic foods - I've tried it as a topping on ice cream, and it was amazing. Well, as amazing as it is anywhere else.


I remember, when I was a kid, the first time that I asked my dad about the Stillsuit he still has hanging in his closet. He didn't seem to want to talk about it; I kept bugging him about it for a while, but honestly, my dad can still be as hard to get a hold of as sand, when you try to pin him down. He didn't want to talk about any of it.

I moved to Arrakis for a year, and spent some time with his relatives there. It's funny; the Fremen are so different, when you're looking at their culture from the outside in. I think the popular perspective is that they are heartless murderers - peerless warriors in strange costumes who would slit your throat as soon as look at you.

Which is true, of course - your body is full of delicious, delicious water. But that's not my point. Actually, it's kind of the opposite of my point... so I think I'll ignore it.

Anyway, the point is, from inside the Freman culture, things are very different. They're not the Stillsuit-wearing, knife-wielding maniacs that everyone things. I mean, yes, sure, they wear those Stillsuits 24/7. And yes, most of their culture, directly or indirectly, revolves around threatening people with knives, or carrying out those threats... but really, once you get to know them, they're totally sweet.

So while I was living in Arrakeen, I was spending as much time as possible with my father's family. Almost every Tuesday evening (taco night) I would go out into the desert to have dinner with my dad's people. And I can see why some folks are scared of them; these people were basically proposing armed insurrection against the Emperor. In fact, once Paul Muad'dib dethroned the Emperor, they basically started a jihad across the whole length of the galaxy.

Okay, I'll come clean. The Fremen are absolute psycho nutjobs. But still - fun at parties, and TACO NIGHT!

After a few months of this (also, there was lots of drinking) my dad's family started opening up to me, telling me about the Face Dancer he killed (in a knife-fight, of course) and all that kind of thing. From my dad himself? All I ever got was static.

He said, "Nobody is interested in my past - not even my children."

I can't even imagine how lonely he must be.

There's a part of me that thinks he's an idiot, as well, of course - after all, he's the one that's walled himself off. Both my brother and I are desperate to learn about our heritage - but not desperate enough that we're going to fight him every step of the way to do it. I guess when you grow up wearing a stillsuit, it just sinks down under your skin - even when you take it off, you're still isolated from everything around you.

Also, while I was out there, I put on a stillsuit for a few minutes.
Guess how much those things suck? The proper guess is "a lot." It was fun and interesting for about thirty seconds. Then it was hot and sweaty and disgusting... and knowing that I should sweat it the hell up, because I'd be drinking that sweat later, did NOT help. Not even a little bit.

But the point is, that was what I was reduced to? No distance, ironic or otherwise? Just put on an insanely irritating garment, because I feel have no other way to connect with my heritage?

I guess so. And it's sad, because if he opened up, I think the three of us - my dad, my brother, and me - would probably have a much easier time of it. Until then, I'll be drinking sweat-water over in the corner, okay?


That's it for today, folks. Tomorrow, I'll talk about the various ways you can cover up your bright blue eyes, if you've become addicted to the Melange, and whether or not there's anything to the seaworm-produced "Ultraspice" that all the news programs are talking about. Until then, walk without rhythm, and you won't attract the worm!