I wrote a short story and send it off in January for a small competition on a fantasy web forum, where other readers and writers could read and vote.
I didn't win, but I hadn't expected to, because I wrote.
And I sent it off!
This is my win.
Please read and enjoy, oh and comment if you like.
I don't do short stories and, although this is by the competitions rules, short, I have another 6 in the pipeline...
OK, its storytime.
Renewal.
The
creamy, grey-veined marble hallway of the Universal Coffee Emporium
headquarters was meant to soothe her, but a bubble of resentment
simmered under her breastbone. Here she was again, waiting for the
renewal of her Coffee Emporium Decade Licence when others could pick
up a half century licence without such pointless examination.
A
being sat contently on the other end of the grey, cream-veined marble
bench, resting long hands on knees. She watched them out of the
corner of her eye for a moment then with a sigh, folded her legs
underneath her for comfort.
The
being coughed.
“These
benches are not built with short legs in mind, no matter the
species,” she explained.
“Sitting
all hunched up is not very, professional,” the being replied.
“Neither
is sitting with legs swinging like some infant, so I’d rather be
comfortable. How I sit doesn’t reflect on my professionalism.”
The being hummed under their breath as silence flooded the hallway.
“You
here for your licence renewal?” she asked before it became
uncomfortable.
“My
second half century,” the being said proudly. “You?”
“Another
decade for me.”
“Only
a decade?” the being queried. “I’m sure I’ve seen you
before.”
“Probably.”
She tugged at her long, gold-embroidered waistcoat and rubbed her
knees with her palms. “I’ve been in this trade a long time.”
“And
you’re still on a Coffee Emporium Decade Licence?”
“The
universe is like that sometimes,” she sighed.
The
being tugged their own simple brown waistcoat and straightened the
long pocketed brown apron in thought.
“I
know you, you’re that human who keeps screwing stuff up. I don’t
know why they let humans join. Wouldn’t know a decent cup of Joe if
it hit them in the nadgers.”
She
fumed inside but put her coffee selling face on to reply.
“Lots
of species struggle with caffeine, but that’s our job, to find a
level that works so the Universe can stay connected and continue to
learn about itself.”
“You
spout doctrine like an Assessor.”
“Did
the exams,” she admitted with a shrug.
“And?”
“I
discovered I enjoyed the day to day interaction of actually selling
coffee and other caffeine based derivatives, rather than checking the
overall balance in the Universe.”
“But...”
“Some
of us aren’t cut out for that level of wider knowledge.” The
being looked at her, blinking three of their eyes in question.
“It
did my head in,” she explained. “The whole of what we do, of what
the universe is all about, is fine in the abstract. But to know, to
really know...” She shook her head.
“So
your still on a CEDL.”
“Doing
the Assessor training gave me a different skill set, which means I’m
often sent on reconnaissance to new planets.”
“Wow.”
She
waved a hand. “Its not as fun as it sounds.”
“And
you keep screwing it up,” the being replied with the sound of
laughter in their voice.
She
let her hand fall to her knee and swallowed. She couldn’t get angry
with ignorant Coffee Emporium pod owners right outside the renewal
office door.
“I
don’t bollix it up,” she said.
“But,
didn’t you destroy a planets socio-economic civilisation just
recently?”
She
turned her head to look at the being, all smart in their standard
Universal Coffee Emporium uniform, and blinked back tears. “I only
set it back a century or two,” she admitted. “Its all in my
report.”
The
being gulped. “Sorry, but you are something of a legend. The human
Coffee Emporium Master; and yet you make all these silly little entry
level mistakes. I’m, curious.”
She
stared at them.
“And
anyway, reports are such dry affairs, even with the best brew. I sell
coffee. I know what it can be like, so, tell me.”
She
looked up at the high creamy, grey-veined walls and let them soothe
her.
“I
went down, looked around, decided they weren’t ready. Knocking
their progress back by a couple of centuries was a fluke. I didn’t
intend to, but on reflection it was a good idea.”
“And
that tells me nothing the report wouldn’t,” barked the being.
She
scooted round on her bottom and faced them. “We sell coffee,” she
said quietly. “We know all sentient beings in this universe have
caffeine or similar in their make-up and we balance this to their
particular needs. Every species looks up at the stars, and wonders.
And so the Universe learns.”
The
being nodded.
“This
species didn’t. They never looked up and wondered. And, they had no
caffeine.”
The
beings mouth fell open.
“But
they had known it,” she continued. “They knew caffeine and they
hated it. And if anything on that planet had once contained it, it
had been eradicated.” She smoothed down her long waistcoat with
shaking hands.
“I
followed protocol, pretending to be from one of the smaller lands in
a big population centre, my pod well disguised but they knew. They
could smell it on me. It was like they could see it coming off my
skin in waves. They were not happy. Caffeine was their devil, and I
was its embodiment.”
“You
got sent into that?” The being was shocked.
She
shrugged. “They interrogated me. They attempted to condition me to
the evils of caffeine. But their main method was purging. Draining me
of every drop of caffeine they could.”
She
raised hands to clutch at her head. “Headaches. Whole body
headaches that wouldn’t end. Creasing me up into an animal ball of
stabbing agony. I was blind, deaf, incoherent, I only wanted to stop
the pain.”
“Didn’t...”
“When
you get sent on reconnaissance, you are on your own. Utterly, unless
you get back to your pod.”
The
being nodded slowly. “Had they genetic sciences?”
“If
they had, I would have been really screwed. I don’t recall much,
but something clicked when they talked about a mutated crop they were
destroying.”
“Clicked?”
“Returned
to what ever sense I had left. The crop had been infected by
caffeine. I was the source. I hallucinated I could be the means, the
return of caffeine to that planet, but first, escape.”
“How
did you?”
She
swallowed, trying to slow down a suddenly racing heart. “I helped
them purge me of every particle of caffeine they could find with
their crude methods. I puked my insides out.”
“No
caffeine, that could’ve killed you.”
“We
humans are resilient creatures,” she smiled. “And their
containment procedures were non-existent. I polluted their water
supply, their soil, their every breath with my own caffeine laced
essence. They quickly descended into a destructive frenzy against any
one they could blame. They didn’t consider me as the source.”
“And...”
“I
honestly don’t remember how I got back to my pod. I woke up,
sucking a mouthful of Betelgeuse Robusta Roasted I had for those
really awful days when you need a caffeine hit like an ore
container.”
“Bit
of an overkill as a pick-me-up.”
“I
needed to get out of there. Their weapon sciences were extremely
advanced, and they were bombing the hell out of any place they
thought the caffeine devil might exist. Including where I’d hidden
my pod.”
“Each
individual Emporium Device can stand a fairly big explosion.”
“They
blasted themselves back two centuries,” she explained. “I wasn’t
taking any chances.”
“So...”
“I
sent the emergency retrieval beacon, UCE brought me back, patched me
up and debriefed me. Its all in the report. Now I’m having to wait
for my renewal. You know, its funny. I’ve never seen another being
waiting for a licence at the same time..”
The
wide metal doors in the wall opposite opened, stalling her words as
an Assessor walked out.
“Nayr
Kim Durand?”
“Yes?”
she breathed.
“Here
is your CEDL. Sign here, and here, and your hand please.”
She
stood quietly as the sub-dermal chip in her wrist was read, updated,
wrote her name and accepted the computer paper with her licence on it
in silence.
“On
behalf of the Universal Coffee Emporium, we thank you for your frank
retelling of the Thine 137 incident. And your, personal sacrifice.
Reports can be so dry, can’t they.” With a bow, the Assessor
left, leaving her staring at nothing.
She
rounded on the being on the bench. “You in your regulation uniform
with your regulation words and your...”
“Sorry,”
the being replied with an attempt at a grin. “They needed to check.
And you are very good at giving regulation answers at debriefings.”
“You
want to know?” she muttered looking down at the page in her
trembling hands. “You want to know the truth?” She breathed in
and stood upright, looking the being in the eyes.
“The
truth is, coffee has always been my life, before I even suspected the
Universal Coffee Emporium existed. Keeping the caffeine balance of
the sentient Universe is natural for me. But after this, I can do
nothing but sell. My own caffeine balance is screwed.”
The
being gasped in horror.
“Yes,”
she said quietly. “I can never drink another cup of coffee again.”
End.
