Legacy's Ghost

Episode 12: Food For Thought

The sconce lights on my wall turn on as the male voice in the hallway calls to all of us, "Time to get up. Breakfast will be in forty five minutes."

I rub my hands up and down my face and crawl out of my bedroll, then roll it back into the bundle and stuff it into a crevice between the rock and the wall.

Glancing at the door, I flinch.

There's a towel and soap sitting where the clothing had been. When did those show up? And how did I not hear them enter?

I grab the soap, towel, and change of clothes, and go to the bathroom. I'd been in them earlier when I needed to use the bathroom, so I know the shower has stalls. If I do everything in the stall before I come out, maybe nobody will bother me.

It takes a little while for the bathrooms to clear out enough that I can sneak back to the stalls without being seen. Once there, I spend an extra long time in the showers. I can't remember the last time I've actually been allowed to bathe.

Usually I'd have to be outside when the sprinklers turned on to water the plants. Or, if Cook thought I was particularly filthy, she would take me outside and hose me off. I'd made the mistake of trying to shower once when Edmond wasn't around, and someone told Cook.

That was the worst beating I'd ever had. She kept saying something about wasting Legacy resources, or something.

Even now, something inside me paces, afraid that Edmond will change his mind and decide I shouldn't be a Ghoul after all. If this is the only shower I get, I'd better make it worth it.

When I push through the heavy wooden doors to the eating area, I'm wearing my charcoal robe and moccasins. The other TAGs are nearly done with their meal. I've never been inside this room before. Not even when it's empty. I think Cook was afraid I'd beg or something.

My eyes widened when I get inside the large room with ornate tapestries, large sculptures of important historical figures in the corners, and a massive chandelier in the middle of the room.

All of the apprentices are sitting around a dark wooden table with place settings for each TAG, and a mind numbing number of plates, cups, glasses, and silverware.

One of the attendants walked to me and smiles. She has her auburn hair twisted into some sort of braid down her back. She's wearing the monastery uniform: unbleached linen pants and a white shirt. She smiled at me and says, "Are you Atan, the new ghoul?" Her voice is high and kind, unlike the tone I often hear from those who address me.

I nod.

She smiles again. "Let me show you to your seat." She turns and walks towards the table, circling around to an empty seat on the far end. I'm seated between Grey and Tercia, both in their charcoal robes. Both ghouls.

To my left Tercia has more delicate hands with fingernails shaped in ovals with light tan skin and long black hair. The sixteen-year-old girl has a certain grace in the way she holds her utensils and bring her food up to her mouth mouth without spilling anything or bending over. Her plate is nearly empty.

To my left, fourteen-year-old Grey, with umber skin, and dark eyes, still has half his meal to eat. Occasionally, he drops his food and curses. Each time he does it, my stomach sinks a little lower. If he can't do it and he's been a TAG for years, how am I going to do it? What happens if I use my hands?

I look at my place setting in all of its absurdity. I've spent most my life pinching food from the kitchen. That means grabbing things with my hands and running with it. I rarely had the luxury of using knives or forks or spoons. All the stuff in front of me is absolutely foreign.

My gaze continues to observe all the other apprentices at the table. Luckily, all of them are too absorbed in getting the food to their mouths and using their utensils properly that no one is watching me.

One of the attendants places a plate in front of me that has a piece of round bread topped with meat, an egg with its yolk dripping down the sides, and some sort of cream sauce drizzled over the top with pieces of a green plant sprinkled over the top of the cream sauce.

I try not to make a face at it. This looks nothing like the slice of stale bread or handful of cooked oats I usually pinch.

Behind me, someone places a hand on my shoulder.

"Welcome to your first lesson Atan. My name is Elvira. I oversee Etiquette and Protocol. From here on out, we practice formal eating at every meal. As a member of the TAG, you will be expected to learn how eat, dine, and entertain leaders of other colonies, worlds, and species."