by T. Wyse
“Oh! Hello Amelie.” Lyssa quickly straightened her hair and fiddled with the cuffs of her shirt, finishing with a dusting of her shoulders. “You’re early.” She nodded, her lungs slowly warming into active life.
“You can get started then, I suppose.” She produced one of the empty trays and rummaged through one of the sacks still on the ground. “We have cobs coming today, and we’re going to have more crew than usual, so you can get these out of the way.”
Amelie slipped into the familiarity, now certainly a match for Craig and Wendy in speed and skill, but the atmosphere in the room hung in a disconcerting lull. Lyssa stood across from her, leaning on her elbows and just staring at Amelie with a worried silence.
"Is someth-" Amelie asked, looking up.
"So did Melissan not need you, did you finish early?" The woman cut in.
"We finished, sort of." Amelie trailed off. "Oh. E told me her name." Amelie paused, catching the mild interest in Lyssa’s face. "Collette."
"Ah, well then I'm sure James will be happy to hear that." Lyssa sighed, looking to her pots now. She motioned with the dials and the stove began to come to life.
That atmosphere hung thick still even without the pensive stare. A chorus of unwanted vegetable limbs slapping against wood, and then being scraped into the bin finally met a singing partner as the four pots began to bubble and clang.
Further adding to the song a parade of feet stamped without rhythm, the door fluttering open with each intruder. Each figure brought a basket filled with green ovals, and with the marching rhythm came the smell of earth to the room with the faintest hint of a far off sweetness.
The last of the parade snaked back the way they came, and they left the room a cluttered place of baskets now sibling to the myriad sacks. Amelie finished the last of the cleaning and cleared the table of the remnants just as Craig and Wendy’s surprised faces greeted her.
The two strode in as the head of their own, smaller parade. Three others towed the line: two boys, one a senior, and one younger than Wendy. The third was a somewhat rough and dirty looking girl a little older than Craig. She wedged herself against the baskets, stealing a resting lean with her arms crossed.
"So." Lyssa surveyed them. "How many of you have done this before?" She asked.
"I have ma'am." The oldest piped in. "Uncle's got a farm, off in..." He trailed off. "Never mind. I've done it before." He declared, looking angry at himself.
"I have as well. Well not on any farm," the girl added her voice. "I'm probably not as good at him, but they asked for anyone with experience, no matter how little." She shrugged, seemingly annoyed by her own presence at the gathering.
"I tried it once. It was pretty hard." The youngest added.
"So, just the three then?" Lyssa asked, sizing them up.
"Well, I've done a kind of corn, removed its skin and all. It was a different than this, one of the older varieties." Amelie recalled preparing spotted striped corn at home, having to use a cutting tool to remove its skin. She thought back to her mother's skilled hands, their quick and fluid motion, and trying to mimic them, and failing miserably. She had got better over time, but the occurrences of the preparation of the maize were few and far between it seemed. "Are we going to be using knives?" Amelie looked at the table, not seeing the familiar tool.
The three children, the strangers each gave her a funny look, but their attention quickly focused back on the woman leading them.
"No. No knives, we do this the old fashioned way." Lyssa declared. She snatched one of the leaved cobs from the basket nearest her.
She held it out, displaying it as a magician might display a rabbit before making it disappear into the nethers. She grasped its top, closing her grip firmly. "Hold the top like this. Twist it around, keeping it tight in your hand, like a rope. Now twist." She made a firm gesture, and the corn made a crisp snapping sound. "Now, still holding the 'rope' in your hand firmly, pull downwards towards the stalk." A golden row appeared beneath the green of the shuck, the sweet scent sprayed finely into the air. "Now do so as best you can for the other sides, and you will minimize the amount of silk left on the cob." The woman pulled the green completely from the vegetable, and then made a neat snapping of its remaining stem.
She tossed the demonstration corn onto the table, into a naked board waiting for its bounty.
"Now then, let's get to it." She declared, and went back to her pots.
The six of them set to work, Amelie finding herself buffeted by two strangers. The two with experience aped Lyssa’s demonstration with a near flawless ease, the corn cracking, peeling, and pouring forth gold in their skilled hands.
Amelie’s efforts consisted of an awkward gawk at her green enemy, her pink hands naked without the cleaning tool. Her hands shook with effort, the twist into the rope wore her water softened hands as much as the shuck. She pulled, and got nothing, not even a break in the skin. Craig and Wendy both finished their first, then their second and third before Amelie even broke the skin with an infuriated pull.
Of course the moment the green pulled away, the ‘silk’ faced her in an even more frustrating legion. Her battle with the clinging white hair waged on while the others’ crisp movements blew forth a stream of yellow.
"Make sure you get it twisted, really well, right at the start." It was the older boy who finally helped her. He moved close, showing her exactly how to twist, and where she had been failing. She pulled, and with a gentle motion of his hand over hers, she neatly cracked the top. He let go and motioned for her to tug down, in one stroke, and finally the yellow came forth for her as well.
The starchy slick and sticky peeling filled the room, a new discordant melody with the boiling pots. She yearned for whatever discussion Craig and Wendy held within their restrained breaths, instead offering secretly nervous glances at the others assembled.
Perhaps the corn had brought some incompatible cliques together in the room, or perhaps it was her presence. She banished such pessimistic thoughts from her mind, and redoubled her focus on the task at hand.
Finally it ended. Her hands were sticky and numb from the sugared sap, and the repetitive labor presented them. The other three volunteers drained quickly out of the room, their drafting tour ended.
Remnants of the corn lay everywhere, sticking and clinging in impossible angles in a way that reminded her of that shedding dust from the white concrete. Picking away at them became a frustrating diversion for the three.
"What's wrong?" Amelie asked, finally. She picked a particularly stubborn wisp of corn hair from the carrot she was paring.
"Nothing's wrong." Wendy replied.
"Why is it so quiet then?" She countered, showing annoyance.
"It's...they're talking about you...in the fields." Craig admitted.
"She doesn't want to hear about that. It's just people being stupid is all." Wendy scolded.
"Bad things, I guess?" Amelie asked dryly.
"Well, yeah. Bad things." Craig said, more interested in the wisp on his potato now, than making eye contact with her.
"Doesn't matter." Amelie declared. "I don't care what they say."
"That's good." Wendy said. "Just...just be careful, alright?" She said with furtive urgency. Her eyes raised up to Amelie's, her gaze pleaded with her to understand.
"Don't worry about me." Amelie declared, trying to smile comfortingly. "Just worry about yourselves, okay?"
Craig and Wendy glanced between themselves, sharing quizzical looks.
"If it comes down to me, or them." Amelie searched for the best way to express it. "Look I've taken worse than being the scapegoat for stupid people. But you two, you've got history here, right?" She was failing miserably. She thought of being forced out, back into the wasteland, what would she do then? Still, that fate seemed better than having the two before her be hurt by some kind of superficial loyalty, especially to someone who had treated them dishonestly.
"No." Craig said, firm. "I was a lowly brown before, I can survive
being one again." He declared with defiance. "I don't know what it's going to come down to, but...no."
"Never." Wendy agreed. "We don't know you too well, but we both like you as much as we've seen." She smiled. "And we aren't going to let you take unearned blame because people want to take their frustration out on someone." She nodded, as firm as Craig.
"Well...thank you." Amelie sighed. She wanted to explain to them everything she knew. The reasons for keeping others ignorant of her knowledge seemed distant, like a faraway dream now. They must have been good reasons, solid reasons? She almost yearned for that ringing oppression to push her thoughts away from this, but it wasn’t interested in such mercy.
"Please...just be careful. Don't go getting into fights over my honor or stupid things like that, promise?" She let herself be satiated with that.
"I...okay." Wendy promised.
Craig was silent, his eyes narrow and brooding. "No." He scowled.
"Well I promise that I'll make sure he doesn't do something stupid." Wendy said, a purposefully foolish boast, throwing her head back with a silly flourish.
Amelie thought that Craig might, perhaps, not be quite so insistent or brave when set upon by people angry enough to raise arms, but kept such things to herself. Perhaps when pressed he would be 'brave', or stupid; perhaps they both would.
"I'm sure it won't come to that." Amelie forced an encouraging smile at them. "I mean everyone's going to be happy after they get corn." She declared.
"I know I will." Craig said, allowing himself an indulgent smile.
"Me too." Wendy's grin seemed to betray more worry than Craig's.
Dismissed in short order, the three of them went to their table. There were three lights lit on the table, and it seemed even darker than the days before. The cafeteria was filling up quickly, almost to the usual capacity. The corner towards the front was darker, gloomy, having lost half of its light perhaps more.
"Is she busy?" Wendy asked.
"I...I think maybe I should go get her." Amelie stood, grabbing her lantern quickly. She pictured the scene from before still lingering even now. She made her way halfway to the hallway doors, when she was met by the two familiar wisps, one much lower to the ground than the other.
"There you are." Amelie smiled, trying to lock Melissan's gaze.
"Here I am." Melissan said, not returning her enthusiasm. She hobbled over to the table, two lights in tow, and plunked herself down like some ragged doll.
"We were worried about you." Wendy smiled, trying to be friendly.
"Did you hear." Melissan declared with a fierce bluntness. "Her name is Collette." She gave a lingering, slothful nod towards the little girl beside her.
"Oh! Is she talking now?" Wendy was suddenly further animated. "Hello Collette!" She smiled. Collette gave no indication of her newly found vocals.
"Oh no, doesn't talk. Why would she?" Melissan chuckled, a bitter darkness showing. "Told her though." The nod at Amelie felt like she was on trial, and had just been pointed out as the murderer in question.
The day's stew came, breaking the awkwardness a little. Craig and Wendy seemed bewildered, and were happy to set into the stew before them, rather than continue on.
The stew should have been a treat, yet it lumped in her throat. It was sweet, it should have been sweeter as she had been involved in its creation, but seeing Melissan's dour frustration made Amelie forget about it entirely. Still, she ate, her stomach demanding its pay for the day's work, her mouth however was on strike at the moment, feeling it was not been given proper attention.
"Alright, let's go." Melissan declared, her bowl not entirely finished. Collette had finished before her, a rare occurrence that served to highlight whatever boiling crisis was brewing.
Amelie followed her out of the cafeteria, they were the first ones to leave.
"Commons room." She declared bluntly. She left the two younger girls there, and went to retrieve the cleaning cart.
"What's wrong with you?" Amelie scowled, glaring at the little girl. "You've really hurt her." She tried to appeal to Collette's sense.
"No," Collette declared, her voice dark, the hoarseness clinging to it. "I am one needle in a forest of quills." She looked away, breaking Amelie's gaze.
"Talking away again, I see. You two are simply the best of friends." Melissan's voice came from the door, preempting her emergence through it with the cart.
"It's not like that, she likes you, she really does." Amelie protested, looking at Melissan's eyes, forcing her to lock eyes. "I don't know why she doesn't talk to you, but her body language, her actions, they say that she likes you, much more than me."
Melissan looked down at Collette, who returned her look. Collette suddenly gripped the taller girl, giving a tight, clinging hug to her. Melissan seemed shocked, surprised, annoyed, but then her face softened, a great deal of the weight seemed to vanish from it. Melissan closed her eyes, and returned the embrace, smiling.
"I know. I really do, I'm sorry." She said, softly. There was a stream of people coming from the cafeteria now, Amelie wanted to shade the two from the voyeuristic gawking of the passersby, but had to content herself with giving annoyed glares to anyone with lingering eyes.
Amelie caught sight of Eilis, and gave a little wave towards her. The older girl was moving on her way to the library, or so it seemed. Eilis stopped there, beside Amelie, but facing the two locked in embrace.
"Listen to me, E...Collette." Melissan said, her voice trembling. "I need to go, just for a while, I promise. You need to listen to Amelie like you have me, or even better, you promise?" She knelt down, her eyes at the same height as Collette's.
Collette gave a nod, and they hugged once again, briefly. "Amelie, I need you to watch Collette, just do as we usually do during the day."
"But, what are you going to-" Amelie protested.
"I'd like you to do the floors in here, and the cafeteria floors. I guess the landing and halls will have to be left alone for today." Melissan laughed, yet her eyes were full of tears.
"You're going to that…machine, aren't you?" Amelie scowled, pointing at her. "That thing that's making people sick, warping them. And for what?" she snarled.
"So you can live in relative luxury." Eilis responded. Her voice was weary, unsecured in the virtue of the statement.
"It's true. The machine needs to be kept running. We won’t be able to start it up again if it stops. Just need to keep going and let the others rest, just for a while." Melissan said, looking down at Amelie with sincerity. "It'll be alright, really."
"No it won't!" Amelie yelled, the crowd in the hallway stopped, gawking. She didn't care. "Who cares if the lights aren't on, I don't want you to be like the others. I don't want you to collapse, or die." She stamped, firm in her accusation.
"Don't make a scene." Eilis hissed. "It'll be fine, the problem was with the higher output, and we're ramping it down. We won't get sick, it's fine." She assured Amelie, whispering so her words couldn't be heard.
"But you don't know that, do you? You've already started to..." She caught herself. No, Eilis' eyes were clear now. Maybe it would be alright, maybe the sickness was temporary, curable.
“They’re smart, they know these things. James…Professor Barret is amazing with machines. He’s just a little…over strained of late.” Eilis nodded, and her breath glowed with sincere belief.
"Be careful." Amelie said, surrendering. "Both of you."
"It needs to be done." Melissan said, a hand on Amelie's shoulder. "It's not fair, I was putting burden on the others by not helping. Isaac was right, we need to keep the lights on, the water running."
"Oh, if...if I'm not back before night, could you take Collette to my room? It's 7-E, third floor. It's one of the ones closer to the south glass tower." She nodded finally.
The two older girls walked off. Amelie fleetingly wondered how much they were hurting for help, if the girl with one working arm had been drafted. Melissan snuck a little wave at Collette, before disappe
aring down the hallway, turning towards the elevator's nook.
Amelie turned to Collette. Tears were streaming down the little girl's face. "It wasn't enough." She whispered.
"They'll be fine." Amelie tried to be reassuring, and began to rummage for the proper tools from the wagon. The thing seemed towering, monolithic, without Melissan beside her.
The day went by with clumsy and slow effort. They managed to clean the commons room, or rather Amelie had managed to. Collette had taken to the windows shortly after they began, and remained in her lofty escape while Amelie scrubbed.
Amelie had to shout after Collette a number of times, to get her to return to the ground, so they could proceed to the cafeteria.
Having only one other wisped source of light in the cafeteria made her really feel Melissan's absence. Amelie spent most of the time pausing, worrying about the older girl, running over her fate in her mind. They had barely finished cleaning the tables, when a single wisp entered through the door of the hallway.
"Hello Amelie, Hello Collette." Lyssa greeted them, passing by with military swiftness. She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving them to the inked sea once again.
Amelie worked furiously from then, trying frantically to get the floors done as best she could. Her hands were sore, blistered, and she had little to show for it when the time she had was up. The end was signaled by Craig and Wendy appearing in the darkness.
"Oh, we're about to start." Wendy said, giving a quick wave at Amelie. "Do you need a hand putting the cart away?" The blue ghost slowed its pace towards the kitchen's door.
"No, I'll be fine." Amelie said, wiping her forehead, moving towards the cumbersome cart. She would have to be fine, she needed to be able to do this on her own.
"Collette!" Amelie made a sharp whistle, and the little girl came, slowly.
"I guess you're coming with me then." Amelie looked around, hoping to see Melissan somewhere to swoop down and take control of the vacant little girl. Melissan failed to appear, and Amelie lead Collette to the kitchen, where Craig and Wendy were furiously cleaning vegetables.