Flash Fiction Friday
The Cost of Coffee, part 9
Prompts for 25 April, 2025 from
Write about achieving a milestone
devastating drums
“Don’t say a word”
A character who is a celebrity
9.
"Well, Pinta, it seems I have hit a milestone: first trip out of our home since last week. If I keep this up, I’ll be a local celebrity: ‘Man thought near death walks the halls with daughter. Film at 11.’" Pinta had no idea what he meant, but Father grinned broadly as the two of them walked the corridor leading to the coffee greenhouse. They walked slowly, not because they couldn't walk faster, but because they wanted to maintain a semblance of nonchalance. "Mother is not happy that I keep avoiding her attempts to sedate me," Father said. "Don't say a word to anyone else, but I almost think she wants me to stay out of the way."
"Out of the way of what?" Pinta asked. "Do you think it's possible that Mother is somehow involved in the fires or something? But why?"
"I don't know that she is directly involved, but she denied the existence of the fires, just as the computer erased the records. If she isn't involved, then she is in denial or worse, is somehow brainwashed to accede to whatever the computer says is true. I'm not sure which option would be worse."
Pinta didn't hesitate. "The worst of the options is that she is involved. That would mean she has betrayed us and lied to us for who knows how long. I'm sure she is not in denial; she is too smart for that. Brainwashing?" Pinta shuddered. "I think it's possible. Look how easily she kept you sedated those first days. And I have no memory of how I hit my head hard enough to need a dozen stitches."
"Perhaps," replied Father. "Let's hope whatever it is we can undo. I doubt things will even go back to normal, though. There has been an attempt to capitalize on the farms and the mills. Someone or some group wants power and control. If your mother isn't in that group, she is being used by them."
At that moment, they turned into the coffee greenhouse. Whatever the computer said, there was still plenty of evidence of a fire. The smell of burnt coffee beans and the ash of the plants permeated the space, in spite of the air purifiers running incessantly. Father stopped at one panel of electronics. Opening the door, he peered closely at the wires and their connections. "Aha!" he said at last. "This one right here." He pointed at a blue wire that wasn't connected to anything.
"What is it?" Pinta hadn't studied electronics or engineering, so she had no idea what she was looking at.
"Pinta, do you still have that illustration paper with your poem?" He spoke quietly, unconvinced that some computer nearby wasn't listening. It really is a terrible poem, you know."
Pinta giggled as she pulled the paper from her pocket. "I keep it with me now. I might think of a way to improve it." She handed the paper to her father as she spoke. He shook his head.
"I'm not sure you can improve it without starting over. Maybe with a more realistic theme. Reality doesn't have cracks, you know. Perceptions do. Wishes do. It's possible to believe something that isn't real for a while, "but at the length truth will out." Shakespeare, you know."
Pinta rolled her eyes. "Yes, Father. The Merchant of Venice, Act 2, Scene 2. I may be a terrible poet, but I excel at ancient literature." As they spoke, Father connected the blue wire to a small fan, which began whirring.
"Now we step back and watch," he said, rubbing his chin. "This wire was intentionally disconnected to interrupt sprinkler systems. My next system will be more secure. While we wait, I need you to remember the argument you told me about just as the fires were starting."
Pinta didn't remember telling him about the argument between the packer and the day manager. "When did I…?" she began.
"You aren't as quiet as you think, little one. When you tried to take my tablet, you muttered under your breath about packing and beans and something else. I don't remember everything, but you seemed terribly upset."
Pinta blanched. "I hope I haven't whispered things I shouldn't have to anyone. Let me think. Yes, it was one of the packers talking to one of the managers. Something about not having the right packing materials to keep the beans fresh before roasting. The manager wanted him to send the fruit out with whatever was on hand, but the packer really didn't want to."
Father shook his head. "I was afraid it was Arturo. He is my day manager, but lately he has seemed edgy and always in a hurry. I asked him to requisition the proper materials to maintain the quality of the beans, but he said the shipment needed to go out immediately. I told him to wait. I asked your mother whether there was a reason for any producer to ship without taking the precautions necessary to maintain quality. She laughed at the idea, but then said something I didn't pick up on at the time."
"What did she say?" asked Pinta as her father looked at the schematic and turned the paper so it lined up with the ceiling of the sector. Looking up, Pinta saw that the lines matched the sprinklers until one small corner. In the paper, the pipes formed a 90 degree angle and continued, but in the ceiling, the corner piece was missing and both ends of the pipes were sealed. That explained why the sprinklers failed, but didn't explain why the fire began in the coffee or why so many fires happened and were subsequently covered up.
Her father looked Pinta directly in the eyes. "She said, 'What we have is enough for us.'" Pinta's heart raced with a devastating drumbeat.
Good story, good use of all the prompts, and AMAZING how you're able to adapt the plot to go with whatever Scoop dishes out! Kudos!
Oh, Mom is looking pretty guilty so far... her poor family.