The Cost of Coffee 2

Flash Fiction Friday

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Prompts for 7 March 2025 from

Scoot

• Write about a favorite food

• delightful darkness

• “Explain it to me again”

• A character who isn’t human

"Computer, start a shower." Pinta was exhausted. The fire claimed half the coffee bushes, but the rest of the harvest had to be destroyed because the beans were contaminated with fire retardant. Resting her head against the tile, she let the hot water beat on her back until she heard her AI butler's notification that her time and water quota was up for the next six hours. Sighing, she wrapped her long black hair in a towel and wrapped her body in a robe while she tried to make sense of the day.

"Computer, explain it to me again, where did the fire originate?"

"The fire in Sector C5 began in the Southeast quadrant near the storage unit for packaging materials. No cause has yet been determined. Sprinkler lines failed. The fire was extinguished by chemical spray manually administered. The crops in Sector C5 and Sector C6 are a total loss."

Pinta frowned. Something didn't make sense. That part of the coffee farm was farthest away from any heat source. The humidity and temperature had been stable. The crop in that sector was days away from harvest and the adjacent sector's plants had just set fruit. She was missing something.

"Initiating night routine," came the AI voice. Pinta shook her head and pulled out her notebook. Old school paper and pen. No digital footprint, no access by anyone. She kept it hidden, even from the computer's scanner. It was originally for her poetry and her sketches, but she needed it now to help process her thoughts.

"Goodnight Computer," she said as she pulled the covers over her head and turned on her low watt flashlight. All the computer could register was delightful darkness, but Pinta had just enough light to write.

Even with the cover of her blankets and darkness, Pinta decided to write in code, ,just in case. Her poetry was never very good, which was why she kept it hidden in a secret paper notebook. But now, poetry could be a cover for whatever she was thinking. She had a vision of her father, covered in sweat and soot, trying desperately to restore the sprinklers, the orange flames behind him.

"What happened, papa? Why was there a fire? Why didn't the sprinklers work? What are we going to do now?" She doodled an outline of a coffee bean in her journal. Coffee was her favorite food. The smell of the soil, the color of the berries, the small white flowers that held potential for more than just caffeine. She knew the medical researchers were looking at ways to use the flowers and leaves as natural medications and maybe treatment for serious illness. For Pinta, coffee was poised to be the perfect plant for so many things. And now, most of the limited crop was just gone.

"Someone…" her father had said. "Cause not yet determined," according to Computer. Suddenly, Pinta remembered the argument she had overheard before the fire. She scribbled lines in her notebook:

"When what we share is not enough

When the smooth paths become too rough,

It is then we begin to see

The cracks in our reality."

Pinta grinned. It was a terrible poem. But it would help her remember what she needed to do tomorrow.

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Well? What next?