Flash Fiction Friday
The Cost of Coffee part 5
Prompts from
:Write about a triumph
divine thunder
“pick something else”
A character with a scar
5.
Pinta awakened to the sound of her father's favorite song, "Divine Thunder." She didn't know exactly where she was, and it was dark-ish. Not the lights of day, but not the computerized night, either. If she remembered more of Earth, she might have called it twilight. A nearby voice shouted, "Pick something else; I hate that song!" A face peered around a corner, illuminated from behind, but definitely looking at her.
"Oh, she's awake, is she?" Pinta couldn't place the voice, but it was vaguely familiar. "You have quite a gash on your head; it will probably leave a scar. Don't worry, though, you will live."
Pinta reached up and touched her forehead and counted a dozen stitches. "Where am I and what happened? And who are you?" The face vanished, laughing, but the lights began to brighten in the room so she could see a little better. It wasn't a medical room, although she noted a tray of gauze and bandages on a table nearby. She tried to sit up, but got dizzy almost immediately.
Footsteps approached the room and Pinta looked expectantly at the opening where a door should have been. Her mother appeared and rushed to the bedside. "Pinta, darling! I came as quickly as I heard you were awake! Why were you in Sector F? Did you not know it was closed?"
Sector F? That was on the other side of the biosphere. "I was in the park, walking. I wasn't in Sector F. I went around the corner where the market is and it smelled funny. That's all I remember."
"Well, Arturo found you unconscious and bleeding in Sector F. He brought you to my office because it was closer than medical. You've been out for several hours. We sedated you so you could rest, but I don't understand. You knew Sector F was closed for a software update--or did your sister not tell you?"
"I did know. That's why I went for a walk--because it didn't make sense that Naimeh would be out of work for 60 days for a software update. I was trying to think it through." Pinta started to recall more of her thoughts: her father's warning, the fires, Arturo… "Wait, Father mentioned Arturo. Who is he and how did he know to bring me to you?"
Pinta's mother startled, but quickly smoothed out her face, saying, "Most people know you are my daughter; we are not such a populous place that anyone is truly anonymous. The important thing is that you are safe and will recover fully. I do want to get you home and in your own bed. Between you and your father, I may have to hire a nurse." She smiled then, barely stifling a small triumphant smile.
"Naimeh's home. She can take care of Father. I can take care of myself, once this headache is gone. There's no need to bring anyone in." Pinta tried to cover her increasing sense of foreboding with logic. More of her father's note came to mind: 'our reality is cracking,' it read. And what did he mean about religion? She needed to talk to her father.
"That's fine, dear. I will hire someone for just a few days until you are back on your feet. We can talk more later. I need to finish my workday and then we will go home. Just rest here. Aren't you glad I have a resting room in my office? I insisted that I have one, just in case I needed to stay close for any reason. I had no idea it would be so useful for you." Pinta's mother left the room, waving her hand across a panel as she went. A door slid into place. Pinta wasn't going anywhere.
Hours later, Pinta and her mother rode the cart home. It was a short walk, but with Pinta's head injury, her mother insisted on transit. The cart resembled a golf cart from Earth days, but it was computer driven and required no roads. Nicknamed "Airstream," the carts were typically used to shuttle produce and building supplies, not people, but Mother was convincing when she needed to be. Entering the apartment, Pinta was surprised to see her father and sister in the living area, playing a game of checkers. Father did have his old school favorites.
"Father! You're awake and up! Are you feeling better?"
He raised his eyebrows at her, saying, "Did you think I would stay in my bed forever? Naimeh has proved to be a good nurse--and a clever cook." He stood to kiss his wife's cheek, but she turned toward Pinta's room.
"Naimeh, come help me make Pinta's bed. If you are such a good nurse, I will put you in charge of her care for a few days." Pinta thought her mother looked annoyed at the turn of events, but she said nothing as her sister followed her mother out of the room.
"Come, Pinta, play checkers with me. Your sister tries, but she is not a strategist." Father nodded to the table. "I have paper and pencil for keeping score in my pocket." Pinta looked surprised; checkers never required a score keeper. Still, she said nothing, following the instructions of her father's face more than his words. She took Naimeh's place at the table and evaluated the board. Father was right: Naimeh was not a strategist.
"Let me show you the score so far." Father pushed the paper toward her and Pinta gulped. It was her paper, torn from her notebook. The page with the terrible poem on it. She looked up at his face. "I'm lucky that your sister found this paper in the waste bin. It would have been a shame to not use the whole thing. See? The back side is completely blank." Except it wasn't. Beneath her poem was a schematic of the biosphere's weather system, drawn lightly in pencil. Over the top, in darker graphite, was the checkers score: 1 game to Naimeh, 1 game to Father. Scribbled near the bottom of the page was Naimeh's handwriting, " 'Life is not measured by how much you own.' What we share must be enough." Pinta looked at her father, alarmed that her sister read her notebook, commented on it, and then gave it to her father. Who else knew her secret?
Mother and Naimeh returned. "First, Pinta, you go to bed. Naimeh will bring you some soup. I want to talk to your father." Surprised by the authority in her mother's voice, Pinta stood to obey. Father touched her hand.
"Tomorrow we will play this game again. Perhaps you can redeem your sister's less-than-stellar moves," he said. Pinta only nodded. Her headache was back with a vengeance.
