The Girl Who Chases the Wind

Chapter 3: Sweetness

Abandoning my lunch, I walked over and attempted to introduce myself before the green-haired girl blurted out, “Go away.”

She gazed at me with thinly-veiled annoyance. The redhead pressed her hand to her chin and looked between us, her lip quivering. She managed to get in a quiet, “Ummmm…” before the green-haired smacked her palms on the table and sharply added, “As in now!”

I took a step back and offered, “My apologies. I meant no offense.”

In a small voice, the redhead asked, “Offense?”

Kicking up one of her legs, the green-haired girl answered, “He was ogling us and thought we wouldn’t notice.”

I shook my head. “Nothing of the sort. I mean…I was looking but just at your hair.”

“What of it?”

Bracing myself, I answered, “It’s unique. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The redhead wore a blush as she brushed back a lock of her brilliant hair. The green-haired one just scowled as she shot back, “I’ve never seen a moronic hipster quite like you, but I took just one look earlier and that was enough for me.”

Slapping her feet against the bench, she vaulted up and stared me down. Cutting across in front of me, she reached out for the other one’s arm and said, “Come on, I’ve lost my appetite.”

The redhead looked back mournfully at her dessert and begged, “But…but…the cake.”

Raising her lime-toned eyebrows, the green-haired one asked, “Seriously?”

The spoon quivered in the redhead’s grip as she beheld the leaking rivers of pink encircling the chocolate cliffs. The green-haired one let her arm go as she conceded, “Fine…See ya.” Striding swiftly, she was through the far side door and away before I could take another breath. In her wake, I could feel the disturbed air without a single scent or aroma carried with it.

After gouging out an entire slopping face of her chocolate cake, the redhead told me, “I’m afraid she does that a lot. I’m Lily.” She swallowed her cake with a smile.

I introduced myself and asked for permission to sit. She beckoned me to take the place where the other one had been sitting. I settled into the exact spot and noticed that it didn’t feel warm like someone had been sitting there. It was curious, but there were many possible explanations.

As soon as I sat down, I hopped up again to rescue my lunch from a diligent janitor. I set my bags aside but kept my notebook out as I asked, “So, your name is Lily? Are you a patient of Dr. Feldon’s?”

Lily confirmed the first part but hesitated on the second. Instead of answering, she filled her mouth with more cake. Eventually, she brushed her neck and offered, “Well….that’s a difficult question because my friend, the one who just left, would probably get mad. I can say that Dr. Feldon is wonderful and helps a lot of people.”

I nibbled at my sandwich, but my real focus was on Lily. I inquired, “Is there anything else you can tell me? Like umm…what’s the green one’s name? I’m sure she doesn’t like being called ‘green one’.”

Bunching her hands together, Lily let out a light chuckle. “Actually, she prefers Green or Greenie from random people. If she talks to them at all.”

“But she has a name?”

Her answer was to carefully state, “The nurses mostly call her curse words, for various reasons. I’ve known her for a while….so yeah.”

Though she wasn’t answering directly, she told me enough for me to imply little things. If “Greenie” had a lot of contact with the nurses then that suggested she was likely a long-term patient or a regular. They seemed at least lunch buddies to the point that Greenie tolerated Lily.

I eased off the prying questions to ask her, “You like the food here?”

Her smile brightened and her hair even seemed a bit more radiant as she nodded. “Yes! It’s very good. I mean…I know it’s very good and I don’t mind one way or the other but there are foods I really love and I always have them.”

I wanted to write a note about that reaction but I left my pad alone. I followed up, “Like chocolate cake and ice cream?”

She released a bouncy nod. “Mmhmm! I always have it for lunch when they make it. It reminds me of growing up in the Northeast when I was a little kid. My mother made the best cake.”

More little curiosities. I placed a hand to my forehead, as that might kindle my neurons to fire a little faster. I even tried to summon my crystalline ones to do something superhuman, but they’d returned to what seemed like a natural state. I could still cut myself and watch it patch up.

I wondered about Lily’s slender, non-cake-scooping hand as it rested on the table. I pondered if it was made of Cellular D and how it might respond to a sudden, ‘accidental’ jab by a fork. Not that it mattered. I only had the faintest idea about how that stuff worked, especially beyond the hour of swift regeneration which Dr. Feldon mentioned.

Still, I’d seen Greenie sprint faster than I could imagine without panting or perspiring. My hunch told me there was something beyond even medical miracles happening at this place and Lily and Greenie were somehow at the center of it. I reflected carefully on Lily’s answers so far and flipped back a few pages.

“Lily, I’m interviewing Dr. Feldon for a web article and I agree he’s an amazing man. He even tried out some of his creation, Memetic Crystalline, on me along with something called Cellular D. Incredible stuff but a little scary.”

Her attention was clearly more on capturing whatever dripping remains of her ice cream she could before they became strawberry milk. Still, she looked at me and nodded as I traced over each term. Her eyes, a light brown closer to tea than her beloved dessert, appeared ever so slightly too big for her face, especially when she raised her flashy-red eyebrows with curiosity.

I urged her, “So, what do you think?”

“That’s neat”, was all she offered as another scoop of cake vanished into her mouth.

There came the urge to massage my eyes and drop my head to the table. I knew there had to be some way to get more out of Lily than she intended to say. Still, she was very cautious.

I paged back to the beginning of my notes and my original instructions. I was skeptical that my article patron had his head outside of his rear on the rumors cited: Old men made into hot girls.

Looking Lily over, she wasn’t unattractive. Far too young for me to be interested. And I definitely wouldn’t refer to her as “hot”. Greenie didn’t fit the bill either. Some of the nurses lingering around were more my type but no one I’d raise any eyebrows over. Assuming “hot” was just the editor pitching a misleading headline before the article, I had to consider the rest of that statement.

“Do you have any Memetic Crystalline in you, Lily? If so, what does it feel like for you? I have a sense myself, but I’d love to have someone else’s perspective.”

It was a feeble question. I should’ve been coming up with mind darts to break through her resistance. Instead, I was just spewing out pathetic dead-ends. I added a look of wide-eyed curiosity. It had to count for something in this lousy interview.

Swirling a sugary soup of cake and ice cream, Lily said, “I don’t really think much about the stuff they use but they use it really well. As for me, I have no problems, especially when I take things day by day with a smile.”

I smiled in reply, but I wanted to groan. I could’ve pressed Lily, but I had the feeling she had the same sort of answer to anything else I might ask. I returned to my sandwich and made that the topic of discussion.

She admired my chicken sandwich and asked, “Have you ever tried synthetic chicken? I had it once…some time ago…but I heard it’s come a long way.”

I proofed a story for someone else about that. All about the long-term growth, decay, and rebranding of the synthetic meat industry in the past few decades. From how Lily phrased what she said, I couldn’t help but keep wondering. If I pried for an exact timeline I figured she’d just evade the question or offer something vague. I was just glad she was talking to me and asking me questions.

“I buy it in bulk and freeze it every few months because it’s cheaper and healthier protein than just about anything else. But I’ll never begrudge the real thing. Had anything special to eat lately? I have no idea what this place serves but this chicken seems decent.”

I timed my question with the arc of Lily’s smile from the final patches of cake and ice cream left behind by the assault of her appetite.

“I keep to this a lot, especially for lunch. Cake is always a happy memory, especially with something melty.”

Ever more curious. But I didn’t react strongly. I asked, feigning bits of disinterest, “Cake all the time? I’d get bored after a while.”

She gave a little gasp and shook her head as she noted, “But there are so many kinds of cake. I do rotate but just the old favorites. A cycle of happy reminders.”

As she said that, the last of the cake and ice cream entered her mouth and she added, “Sadly, there is an end. But there’s also a next time.”

I nodded but offered, “Unless you go for seconds. If you like, I’ll pay for it.”

Her radiant eyes seemed to sparkle as her spoon clinked around her plate. “I don’t often get seconds but….maybe it doesn’t have to end yet. Maybe…” As she spoke, a smile bloomed on her face as she lifted her spoon up for a second wave.

Seconds would give me more time to watch and see if I could figure her out. It wasn’t to be, however, as Greenie dashed back through the door, edged around some people sitting down, and seized Lily’s hand like she had before.

“We need to go…and talk.” She didn’t even give a glance back at me.

Despite Lily dragging her spoon and her soft protestations, Greenie had her with her and out the door. Her last words were, “Seconds…” before she vanished.

Vanished but not entirely gone. I heard a little something through the wall to my right. I pressed my head against it and shut my eyes. Muffled voices. Some words like “you” and “not” but the rest could’ve well been underwater. Still, I sensed the two of them were standing there and talking. I wished for a better ear, but I didn’t pick up anything else before it sounded like they moved away.

I consigned myself to the company of my sandwich. Lily had left her dish behind. It had to be a pretty decent cake, not that I was much of an expert when it came to them. But it seemed to have a pretty potent effect on her. For only the briefest of moments did I consider licking the leftovers for some sense of what she’d eaten. Too gross and creepy though.

Instead, I asked for the same cake but told the cafeteria worker, “There’s this redheaded girl I’m with…Lily. It’s for her and I don’t know if you have any particular special way you prepare it…”

All I had to mention was the hair, name, and cake. They went to work back in the kitchen and soon I had a restored version of Lily’s dessert. From the corner where I was seated, the workers had no way to see me and recognize my lie.

I sniffed. Didn’t smell weird. I tried a bite with a layer of still-solid ice cream…NO! Oh no. Somehow I swallowed it but holy crap.

Sugar all over the place and extra tartness of the strawberries. I puckered up. It was bearable but so chaotic. I felt like I’d been given granulated sugar and something just short of concentrated citrus. It then occurred to me that it might not be a good idea to eat food specifically prepared for someone else. Still, I had to have a little bit more, just to make sure my first bite wasn’t a mistake.

Second time, I puzzled over a patch of blandness. Like brown, puffy cardboard or palatable mud with watered-down milk with only the faintest aroma of strawberry. Then it was back on the rollercoaster again taking the flavor back up. Food landmines of vigorous flavor between exaggerated blandness.

I had to stop as I could feel the exhaustion and slight erosion of my tongue. I drank a lot of water and speculated. There could’ve been anything in that cake. I doubted it was toxic. Rather, I darn well hoped it wasn’t toxic. It could’ve been a potent artificial sweetener or something more experimental which this girl always got. Still, I never saw her lose her delight from this cake. In her place, I would’ve gone through a visible cascade of agony and relief.

My best guess was that perhaps her nerves were damaged in such a way that scrambled her sense of taste and this was a way of compensating? It was an idle guess, but it was something. I plotted to forge the situation into a question for Feldon whereby I didn’t allude to Lily too much. At the same time, I knew I’d have to ask him about the girls eventually.