Vide (Cake/Mashton)[DISCONTINUED]

Prologue

His feet hit the pavement at a 160 beat, sending the soft crunch of sidewalk under sneakers out into the trees along the side of the path. He rounded a corner, passing a sign that said Vide Hamlet Center, jogging into the village common. He passed the supermarket he went to every few days, passed the small department store and the row of blue townhouses. He circled through the park and came to a stop near the fountain.

He went to the water and looked down at his wavering reflection. There was messy blondeish hair and bright blue eyes and a pointy upturned nose and a bright smile adorned with a black ring. He loved going for runs—the sun on his face and his hair flying back and sweat running down from his temples. He caught his breath for a moment, staring at himself, thinking. Then he dipped his hands in the clear, clean water, splashing it on his face. He turned and sat on the edge of the fountain, looking out into the Center. The wind blew his hair back and he turned his face upward, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. For a few minutes he listened only to the sound of wind in the trees and nothing else.

He opened his eyes and looked around. He found a chalky white rock. He took it between his fingers, leaning down between his knees, and wrote in curly letters on the ground between his feet

HEMMO

His tag was all over the common. He liked to make it sometimes, usually when he was on his runs. He liked to walk by later and see one that he'd made weeks ago. Sometimes he hid them or sometimes he put them in plain sight, like this one.

He threw the rock out into the grass of the park and stood to stretch. He looked over at the clock tower in the middle of town and saw that it was almost nine. Time for breakfast. He decided to go to the diner for an omelette and orange juice.

The bell on the door jingled when he opened it. He walked in, smiling around the room, and went behind the counter and back into the kitchen. This was routine for him; he did it often with pleasant joy.

He loved to cook. He considered himself not the best at it—an omelette was a simple thing—but he enjoyed it all the same. He pulled a pan from a peg on the hanging shelf and put it on the stove, turning up the heat. He went to the refrigerator where he kept eggs and fruit, milk and juice, anything he might want here that needed to be kept cold. He pulled out milk, butter, two eggs, cheddar, and ham. He got a spatula and dropped a pad of butter into the pan to melt. He got a bowl and scrambled the eggs with a tiny dollop of milk. He poured the mixture into the pan, letting it cook, low and slow, to fluffy perfection. He dropped strips of ham and grated the block of cheddar over the center of the eggs, then took the spatula and flipped one side over, letting it cook the rest of the way through. He put everything back in the fridge, got a plate, slid the omelette from the pan onto it, turned off the stove, and started back through the classic swing doors into the dining area. Before he made it through, he halted and turned back around. The left door hit him in the backside. He told it to calm down, grinning. He went to the fridge and got the orange juice, taking the whole carton. Back through the doors, he grabbed a glass and a place setting from behind the bar counter as he walked, then sat at a table and ate his breakfast.

He went undisturbed, eating slowly and enjoying the atmosphere of the '50s style diner. The other place to make a good breakfast was at the café about a quarter mile across the center. Sometimes he made batches of muffins, and it's where he went if he wanted a latte or some fancy drink other than supermarket juice or water. He could have whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, because nobody ever told him otherwise.

Because nobody else was here.

This was the Vide Hamlet. The whole place was maybe three or four miles from any one end to the other. It had the Center, where Luke spent most of his time, and where the shops, restaurants, markets, laundromats, salons, and all of these types of things were located. There were also neighborhoods and golf courses branching out from the Center. There was even a church that Luke went to every once in a while to look at the stained glass and talk to whomever might be listening. Winding all throughout the complex were sidewalks and trails for hiking or running or walking a dog if you had one. Luke didn't have one.