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The next day Romeo is doing his barista routines. He notices that the “beans” have crowded to one side of the canister. They seem to be attracted to his presence. He hums a melody, the beans glow a faint purple and move ever so slightly to his notes.  He notices when the manager is present, barking gruff orders, the “beans” become inanimate. The next day the shaman returns and Romeo excitedly tells him, “They are singing back to me!” “Oh, that’s very good!” the shaman says, “It’s time that we move them out of here.” Romeo says he will take care of it that evening at the end of his shift.

 
After closing Romeo is sifting through the coffee in the canister, extracting the magic beans, placing them in the pouch of his apron. He hears a key in the door and the manager rushes in. “What are you doing here after hours?”. Romeo tries to explain which just makes matters worse. The manager takes the apron from Romeo and fires him, sending him out onto the darkened street. It is pouring down rain. The manager locks the door behind him, there is a loud crack of thunder. The manager turns to pick up the apron containing the beans but it’s gone. He looks about to no avail. Outside of his line of vision we see the apron strings being slowly pulled out of sight behind the counter.  Outside Romeo is standing in the rain distraught and bewildered.  A movement across the street catches his eye. Through the torrent he sees Galdifore waving him over. He is standing in the opening of a teepee like tent. In the shelter of the tent Romeo breaks down crying, “I lost them, I’ve failed them.” Galdifore consoles him, “They have weathered worse. They have already found safety.”  Romeo, “What could be worse? Galdifore puts his arm on Romeo’s shoulder and turns him toward the tent opening. Their view of the pouring rain fades into imagery  of Galdifore’s tale.  
 
 “In ancient times, the people who became my ancestors found the sacred eggs under the earth in the Cave of Life. They were already very old then. There was something special about them, something good. So they were distributed, thousands of them, one to each person in the land. A sacred egg brought good fortune, health and longevity. When someone died the egg was passed on to a new born child. Their happiness was such that they conversed through song. And as the egg was worn about the throat it vibrated with the music of the voice and it is said that it even sweetened the sound.  And so our peoples prospered in harmony for thousands of years. 

“But eventually the eggs came to be seen as a superstitious bauble of an ancient myth. But the monks still saw them as special and gathered them up in large clay containers that were kept in the monasteries. The monks would bring them out for ceremonies during religious celebrations each year. 

 

“One day a shaman came down from the mountains and told the monks that the eggs were actually alive and that they were nurtured by song. And so the monks began chanting to the eggs. In response the eggs became colorful and animate. At the festivals the people joined in the singing. Eventually the eggs began to sing back.  

“At the close of the celebration period the monks would gather them up and take them back to the monasteries. But the people eventually objected. "The eggs  make us happy, they should stay with us”. 
 
”The monks said that the scriptures instructed them to be on guard and keep them safe. Some of the bas reliefs in the temples depicted the Gru’kiba, a large fire breathing bird that would drop down from the sky and consume the eggs. Thousands of them were lost this way until the monks gathered them up and took them to safety. The Gru'kiba stopped coming and then it too became myth.