Insomnia

14

Esme creaked her way into the spinning barstool, laying her elbows flat on the countertop. Her nose sniffed furiously to detect scents through the heavy filters of her mask. A sharp stab of spice. The brine of seafood, surprisingly fresh. Something savory and sweet.

A clatter as the bowl was placed in front of her.

"Enjoy," rumbled Gaius. Long gloves covered bulky forearms, a hairnet mashed over his wide, blocky head. "Glad you came in today, Esme. Don't get the chance to cook for folks in person much these days. "

She lifted her spoon and plunged it into the soup. The texture was thick and creamy.

"Is the soup green?" she asked, swirling the broth slightly.

Gaius shook his head.

"Light brown?" she continued. The chef chuckled.

"You do this every time. If you really want to know, you can take that mask off and look for yourself."

She shook her head.

"No thanks. It's more fun to guess."

"Fan of mysteries, huh?"

"You could say that." Esme squinted at the bowl as if that would help. "Black?"

Gaius chuckled.

"You ever had black soup before?"

"I've had blackish soups."

"Try something lighter."

She frowned in concentration.

"Red."

"Closer."

"Pink."

The old man smirked.

"Something like that. Eat up! It's gonna get cold."

Esme followed the order gladly, lifting up a heap of the frothy liquid towards her mouth. She tapped a small button in the interior of her mask with her tongue and the jaw plate opened on one end, revealing a sealed compartment. Esme poured the contents of the spoon into the compartment as the outer hatch closed and the air lock activated. The mask's internal systems purged the chamber of pollutants before the hatch on the other end opened and a tube suctioned the food into her mouth. Esme smacked her lips as the creamy texture made her tongue feel dry.

"You haven't been around in a while," Gaius said, setting a glass of water down by her left. He had skin like aged leather, and his voice rasped as if he had something stuck in his throat. He'd been exposed for a few minutes during the Disaster, just long enough to cause minor lung and throat damage.

"Busy," Esme replied.

Gaius took a wet rag and began rubbing down the countertop in frustrated circles. Esme looked closer at the aging proprietor. The rhythm of his movement. Every now and then the of his hand veered off ever so slightly. Particularly when he leaned forward, to reach further along the counter. Slight tension in the lines around his eyes. Pain? Curious.

She concentrated, reaching forward with a thought probe. Nothing happened. A frown, as she moved her hand forward to make physical contact. Then, Esme remembered this wasn't a dream, and almost too late, awkwardly palmed her glass instead.

"Now I like all the things Somnus has done for us," the man grunted. "But I hate that it's turned a whole generation into shut-ins."

"Mmm," she said, focusing herself again after the momentary lapse in concentration. "I think the Disaster did that."