Timothy had almost reached the desk in front of the object of his adoration when another suited Octopode rushed by and swept Cathie up in a more than amicable hug. Timothy wanted to protest and hurried forward to save his beloved-from-a-distance from what must certainly be unwanted affection from a complete stranger.

Just before he reached the strategically perfect position to hit the offender, he realised in shock that Cathie clung to this absolutely boring looking banker like a tick to a patch of nice warm Octopode skin. In the next moment, she pressed her lips against his and closed her eyes with a moan that even lovestruck Timothy couldn't mistake for a cry for help.

He stood there in the middle of the bank hall, struck worse than the stock market by the recent financial crisis and with less hope to recover in the near future. After a while, he let himself be jostled out of the building and finally wandered off to the nearest town park, further and further away from the panicking masses.

In a far distant and seldom visited, quiet corner of the park, he stumbled upon a tree that looked at least as lonesome as he felt. So Timothy decided to give said tree a friendly hug. The tree didn't hug back—it was a solid tree after all, a stout member of the planetary vegetation and proudly unconcerned by Nematode, Quadruped, and Octopode business.

Despite his heartache, Timothy was impressed by the tree's stoicism and, in a rare moment of clairvoyance, decided to give up his former flimsy life. With a feeling of newfound determination, he loosened the restraining ribbon around his neck and climbed the friendly tree to take up a life in its branches as tree-hugging hermit.

From his vantage point in the canopy of the tree, Timothy watched the world go by. The sun sank towards the horizon, and night set in. He slept soundly. When he woke again, dawn was in full swing.

A suited Octopode strolling through the park happened to see him. "Hey, mate, what are you doing up there?" he asked, studying Timothy's underbelly with interest.

Timothy considered the question and decided for an answer. "Tree," he said.

Confused, the Octopode on the ground looked up at him, obviously in thought over what Timothy had said. Then he nodded. "I see."

A woman pushing an eight-wheeled pram approached, scrutinising the two of them curiously. "What's going on here?"

"The one up there," the man answered. "I think he's a sage, a wise one."

"What did he say?" Awe carried audibly in the timbre of her voice.

"He said 'tree'."

She stood silent, pensive. After some moments, she nodded, solemnly. Then she rummaged in the pram and fished out a paper bag. Looking up at Timothy, she asked. "Are you hungry, oh wise one?"

Timothy nodded. She swung her arm, one of them, and propelled the bag towards Timothy. He caught it.

I contained a banana, a jar of baby food, and a bottle of water. Timothy ate hungrily, forgetting the world around him. After he had finished, he burped.* Hearing whispers from below, he looked down again and saw that the tree was now surrounded by tens of octopodes, all of them staring up at him respectfully.

"Oh, wise one," one of them said, "please enlighten us. What should we do?"

——

* As any parent can tell you, baby food does have that effect.

~~~~

Timothy contemplated the question. As it seemed a good question, he contemplated it some more. When he finally came up with a well constructed, lengthy answer, truth hit him like an epiphany. These people didn't need an elaborate speech but simplicity. So he shortened down his message as much as possible, and in due time he gave it, one single word spoken in a gravel voice, to be heard clearly by the hundreds of people gathered in the holy garden of Steepletown:

"Hug."

The purity of this message touched the people's hearts. There and then, each and every one of those present grabbed himself a neighbour, be it a friend, family member, complete stranger, or even an innocent tree, and hugged them with true feeling and purpose. While the trees concerned were not entirely sure this was a worthwhile experience, the Octopodes soon got the hang of it—not a small feat with the added problem of disentangling sixteen limbs after each hug. But quickly practice took over, and the new movement spread like a chain reaction through the blessed city of Steepletown.

With hugging becoming all the rage in a population already shaken by financial crisis, environmental problems (the trees could tell some stories), and general depression taking hold, it became inevitable the politicians got aware of a new breath of hope blowing through the city streets.

The wife of the Head of the Town Council got acquainted with the new custom while on a shopping spree with her best friend. (As a rather clever, farsighted and sophisticated woman, she preferred spending a lot of money while it was still worth something).

The hugging movement caught her completely by surprise though, and, sadly, she decided to share this liberating and satisfying new experience with her nonstop-VR-game-playing politician husband.

It took her a while to pry him from his VR-equipment while the hugging movement spread further and further. But then, the Head of Town Council cleared his head enough to recognise the upcoming danger.

He, the esteemed Sir Eowald Rumpbottom, Esq., quickly returned to his VR-equipment to verify his suspicions. He paled, then called for an emergency Council meeting within the hour. Donning his hat, he waved his wife goodbye and left their apartment.

She was thoroughly disappointed because she had hoped for some more hugging. With a resigned sigh, she went to knock on her neighbour's door—maybe he had more time than her husband.

Rumpbottom walked the streets with a frown on his face, Huggers were everywhere. A middle-aged lady-Octopode discovered him, unhugged, and spread her arms in welcome. In horror, he turned a corner and fled for City Hall.

The Council Members were assembled in the Octagonal Chamber, sitting at the Octagonal Table, except for Master Swampwhopple and Sir Sliphop, who were embracing in a corner of the room.

"Swampwhopple! Sliphop! Cut it!" Rumpbottom's voice was scathing. The two disentangled and sat down.

"The situation is grave," Rumpbottom continued, his words heavy as lead. "People are hugging. Hugging instead of spending! Today, my wife went shopping, and this usually costs a fortune and gives local economy a boost. However, this time she was distracted. She hugged people. Instead of buying. She ended up spending half a fortune at best."

With a flick of his third left hand, he started up a PowerDot presentation, showing a curve looking like a mountain slope, with the invisible summit somewhere to the left. "This is our beloved city state's GNP. It's in free fall!"

"GNP?" whispered Sliphop, looking utterly clueless.

Swampwhopple shrugged, then grinned. "Gorgeous Nematode Pimples, maybe?"

Rumpbottom stared at them in fury, his eyes two daggers impaling Swampwhopple and Sliphop against the wall behind them.*

"Gross. National. Product. GNP!" Rumpbottom's voice cut the ensuing silence into neat, little pieces. "Our economy was ailing. But now, with all the people hugging instead of spending, it's dying. Council has to do something."

And Council did something. It ordered the city guard to march against the park with instructions to forcefully rid it of all huggers and tree-dwellers. Then, Council dislocated to the pub next door in order to support the GNP and to reward itself for its valiant efforts. The pub sported a large TV conveniently showing a live report from the Octopode-filled park with the armed guard marching up at its edges.

——

* Literally. It is a little-known fact that some members of the Octopode race were indeed able to turn their only slightly bulging eyes into long, needle-sharp stalks.