The Lost

Tara

Annabeth followed The Curator our into the hallway from the banquet hall. They turned right, and walked down a small hallway. They followed one of the servers, who made sure that they found their way to the bathroom. "Thank you." Annabeth said and left The Curator and the guard waiting outside of the bathroom.

When she closed the door she took the time to look around. She noticed that the bathroom didn't have a window that opened, and she couldn't see outside at any rate. To her left from the door was a bank of sinks, and a long mirror, and she saw her reflection momentarily. She looked rather well in her dress, but she did need to use the bathroom. She walked further into the bathroom and checked the stalls. They were all well maintained and cleaned, so she chose the last stall of the bathroom, and closed the door, locking it for privacy.

She finished several minutes later, and walked to the sinks, washing her hands, and then splashing and washing her face before drying her hands and face, looking at herself in the mirror. She looked good. She didn't often look at herself in the mirror that much anymore. She never really had a reason to dress up. Nowhere to go. No one to impress. No one she loved.

She sighed and looked her image over as she contemplated everything that had happened since she had arrived there. And everything She would most likely inevitably do in order to obtain more and more freedom while here. She wanted to escape, she really did. But when she thought about it, the image of The Curator entered her mind. She remembered his kindness and the lengths he had already gone to in order to show her the kindness he could, with the threat of repercussions from the Elders looming over him.

She couldn't betray The Curator like that. She couldn't take his kindness and use it against him to free herself while also putting him at potential harm. She had to stay. She had to cooperate. Or she may never have the freedom she sought.

She put a stray strand of her pink hair back behind her ear, and smoothed out a few wrinkles, and took a moment to breathe. It was alot to take in, what all she had been through in the last few hours. The elevator ride from the facility to the garage, the multiple checkpoints to check the vehicles and declare them safe. All in all, she figured to properly escape the facility it would take at least fifteen minutes just to get to the garage and clear the first guard post. five to seven minutes between each check point. But what could she do if all she did was clear the first guard house and hoofed it? Where could she go?

There came a knock at the door. "One moment!" She replied to the knock and washed her hands one more time before drying them on a paper towel and tossed it in the garbage after using the paper towel to open the door.

The Curator was standing there, along with the guard, who looked relieved that everything was alright when she had opened the bathroom door. She looked carefully at the guard's uniform. "Timothy, is it?" She asked as she spotted his name and insignia.

The guard snapped to attention. "Yes, Ma'am." He said.

"Can I call you Tim?" She asked and gave a brief, small smile.

The guard seemed to relax. "Tim will be fine, ma'am." He responded, and then looked at The Curator. "Will we be heading on now?" He asked to The Curator.

They looked between the two of them and then back at Annabeth. "Shall We go to he garden, Anna?" He asked, hands behind his back.

She thought it over, it was one of the original reasons she left the banquet meeting, other than needing to relieve herself. "Yes. I would love to see the garden. I like greenery." She admitted,

The Curator nodded, and turned left, walking the opposite direction away from the restrooms and past the banquet meeting again. They went through three hallways and into the main dining area, which was as vast as a football stadium. There were tables spaced out every twenty feet or so, and in between all of the tables were eight foot tall shrubs and other plants. They could see down into the main area from the entrance they had walked through.

She was amazed. "Wow.... this is..."

"Immense?" The Curator cut in on her thoughts.

She looked at him. "Immense is one word. I was going to say private... beautiful. So many words to describe what I am seeing right now, But immense is definitely one of them." She giggled a little. This reminded her of the gardens from her past. They were vague memories, but she could feel that it was accurate.

The Curator held his hand out to Annabeth. "Shall we? We can walk, or we can go and grabs a seat and talk. It is up to you, dear."

She looked at Tim. "And what about you, Tim? have you had enough of standing? Or do you have somewhere in here you'd like to go to?"

Tim looked back at Annabeth. "No, ma'am. I have never been here before. This is actually my first assignment."

That surprised Annabeth a little bit, and it made the wheels in her mind start to turn. "Curator?" She asked.

He looked back at her. "Yes, Anna?" Was his reply.

She smiled kindly and looked at him directly. "Can you direct us to the most private table in the gardens?" She asked, formulating a plan within her mind. A new mind to the guards, a fresh assignment. This could be an opportune thing to win over a new friend. Another person she may be able to sometime confide in.

The Curator nodded and began to lead them away to the table in the far left corner, walking past several tables. But it was a good thirty feet from the closest table, so they should be able to talk in relative privacy. As soon as they sat down at the table, a projection appeared in the middle of the screen.

"Hello, and welcome to Mannings. I am Tara, The automated server system for the Garden Room. May I get you any drinks to get started?" The AI asked in a feminine and soft spoken voice.

Annabeth looked between the two of them, and then at Tara, who seemed to be watching her rather intently. "I would like a Green Tea with Honey and Ginseng, please." She asked to Tara, and that seemed to prompt the other two in what type of drinks they should order. Tim being on duty chose to stick to Ice Water, and The Curator chose something called a Long Island Iced Tea. A drink that sounded familiar to her, but she could never remember having ever had one.

Tara's projection bowed, and a timer appeared in the middle of the table where she had been. It was counting down from four minutes.

"Curator?" Annabeth asked bemusedly. "Why is this table suddenly counting down?"

Tara's image reappeared above the timer. "Oh, my apologies. You must be new to the establishment. Would you like a tutorial of the various menus and actions that this place possesses and takes?" She seemed somewhat eager.

The Curator responded before she had a chance to say yes. "No, thank you, Tara. I will answer her questions. For now we would like some privacy, we will let you know if we need anything by pushing your call button. Okay?" He asked smoothly and swiftly.

Tara turned to The Curator. "As you wish, sir." Was her response and her projection vanished.

The Curator looked at Annabeth. "To answer your question, Anna, the timer is the estimated time for the drinks to arrive. It is the same for food, dessert, refills, etc. With the automated system, there are drones that deliver everything, which eliminates the need for servers."

She blinked. "So does that mean our drinks and food are all made by machines?"

The Curator laughed slightly. "Not everything. Our drinks, yes, but all food is made by actual people. The machines only take over in delivering the food. This was a change that took place about twelve years ago, in order to improve feedback and service levels. Plus finding a good server that could maintain a smile, and appearance were becoming increasingly difficult."

She furrowed her brow. "But why was it so difficult, Curator?"

He paused and almost said because there had been a genocide of those who were deemed as only worth being servers during a plague that had swept through the station. "Well, Anna. There was a war not that long ago, and most of the servers were former combatants, who were called back to active duty. The war ended, and well, they never returned." There. He was able to tell the truth to her, even if it was just a bit bent.

The time reached zero just as the drinks arrived at the table. They took the drinks and set them in front of the ones who ordered the drinks.

The Curator tasted his Long Island Iced Tea, and sat in silence.