The Craving Solution

Mary Grace sat in the waiting room, and as its walls were lined with mirrors she hunched forward with her eyes cast to the floor. Mirrors. Of course they would have mirrors in here. Despite her current disposition, MG was a lucky one. The outbreak hadn't infected her area, and she was shipped to the survivors' retreat before the disease could reach her home. Home. The little white cottage, lined with her prized hydrangea and garden gnomes guarding the cobblestone path to the front door her mother once painted a different color very two years just to shake things up, popped into mind.
Her thoughts then drifted to the night the soldiers came. Gas masks adorned their faces and her precious flowers were trampled into the ground, the blue door--once rose, once yellow, one bright red--was knocked down in an effort to rescue as quickly as possible. MG had been in the middle of composing and arranging the scrapbook she had treasured since childhood. A book that detailed her perfect wedding if she were ever to meet the one. David.
David was an unlucky one. He had gone to a store 20 miles away for a case of Yuengling when the virus was triggered. Shelves and carts were contaminated in every market. People who ate right after shopping were affected the most. The change in appetite was almost immediate. The cravings. Oh, the cravings. Nothing would satisfy. Except. MG shuddered at the thought. If David could see you now. The thought made MG tremble again. David loved MG as a friend. Always had. Sure, he thought a thought once in a while, especially about that one Halloween party when MG had dressed as belly dancer. Her body was healthy and lean. A runner's body.
If he could see me now. The thought kept circling. At the survivors' retreat heaviness was encouraged. Plump was in vogue. Designers sold nothing below a size 12. Exercise was discouraged and meals were rich and satisfying in unsatisfying ways. The survivors always wanted more. The retreat was a land of excess. Anything you wanted. Whenever you wanted.
"Miss, have you made your decision?"
MG forced herself to look at the man staring down at her with brown empathetic eyes. As she looked up she caught her reflection. The breasts she had once considered too small rested on a roll of blubber that had been squeezed upward as she zipped herself in jeans for the first time in years earlier that morning. A fat shelf for her fat bosom. Another mirror, propped next to the door she considered an escape hatch back to multiple sources of caloric comfort, reflected a different view. The body of the belly dancer, the runner, the 30 year old woman prior to the outbreak. The mirror had a sign in front of it that read: Survivors' Retreat Glass. Customized with Your Pleasure in Mind!  Go back to a land of pleasure? Or help the cause? It's too late. I know the Truth. Can't turn back now. 
"Yes. I've made my decision. I want to help. I want the treatment." David. His name repeated in her mind. She was doing this for him.
MG was placed in a metallic gown and settled into a wide silver recliner. The metal was cold at first under the thin sheet wrapped around her body. Then, a large light overhead came on, and the chair began to burn.
"You will experience a some discomfort, Miss, in the beginning." The chair melded around to fit her form, a scalding suit of armor. Every few minutes, the armor would tighten to fit her body as the fat melted away into tubes leading out of the room. Mary Grace felt her body changing, the heat of the chair was blinding, "David!" she screamed.
The woman's screams were muted in the room next door where rock music blared and a young intern wore hawaiian print scrubs as tubes of yellow, white, and red flowed above and into the machine he observed daily. The substance in the tubes smelled familiar. However, the formula was classified so he tried not to consider the substance's main ingredient. Whatever it is, it sure enough works. The scientist placed the sludge into tiny molds the size of baby aspirin. Once the molds solidified, they were painted bright colors and given cheerful flavored coatings like Cherry Pie and Bubble Gum.
"Miss, it's done. Thank you for your contribution. As payment please accept the apartment, complete with furnishings and new wardrobe, located in our detoxification center and spa. Remember to keep your new body lean," the man's voice dropped to an ominous whisper, "your life depends on it."
MG ran her hands up from feet to thighs in wonderment. Her skin was raw and pink, but not an once of fat,  "Thank you," she whispered.
"No, thank you for your service to our country." With that he handed her keys to the apartment and motioned to the elevator in the corner of the room. "Your partner is waiting for you."
"My, what?" MG asked but the man had already left the room. MG pressed the button to the elevator and a glass elevator arrived. MG stepped in and pressed the only button available. A tiny needle pricked her finger.
"MARY GRACE," a sweet voice announced.
The elevator shot up and spun and swept through a maze of gold and lush greens. After a few seconds, MG opened the eyes she didn't remember closing. The elevator doors opened to reveal an apartment entrance. The door to the apartment seemed to hesitate and then turned the shade of hunter green MG had been considering as soon as she noticed the door was white and therefore an empty canvas. A pot of hydrangeas appeared on the welcome mat. MG picked up the flowers and unlocked the apartment. As she walked in, her surroundings changed to reflect her preferences. The comfortable furnishings went unnoticed, however, as MG had eyes for the most special part of the accommodations. David. 
"Hi, sweetheart."
"David. The outbreak... Are you? This is? Are we?" AM I SAFE? The thought screamed inside her, but would not come out.
"It's okay, you. They've found a cure."
David embraced his best friend and carefully cradled her in his arms. The thought of the belly dancer flashed in his mind. The gaunt creature before him had been that beautiful dancer. Mary Grace. He was glad that she was the one the country assigned as his partner. Suddenly, he wanted her. Craved her. As his thoughts raced, his hands gripped a bottle from the counter:

Cannibalex

Eliminates Cravings 

Root Beer Float Flavoring

Customized with Your Pleasure in Mind!   

"Now, Darling. Let me show you our place." David's one hand popped a pill into his mouth and the other intertwined with MG's skeletal fingers and off they went to explore what the future had in store. 

The Fall

"Come on!" her hushed urgency rose to meet the teenage boy who lived in the rumored haunted house on the corner of Roskeen and Harvest. James had not yet decided if he wanted to do this. During the split second of his hesitation, the moonlight struck the girl's face in a way that choice was longer an option. She was beautiful. She was his. He would do anything, even this, for the girl holding the ladder to his bedroom window. 

The grass, slick with leaves and dew, was a clear opponent to their quiet escape. James kept looking back secretly hoping for a light to turn on in his parents' room, for his dad to finally accept and succumb to the insomnia, roll out of bed and look out the window to see his only child slipping into the night with a beautiful thief. But his father remained in his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, wondering whether he was prepared for the day the Earth's perpetual spin would halt and throw him into space while his home planet hurled toward the sun. The next morning he would experience, for a moment, what it would feel like if gravity stopped pulling and pushing. 

"This is it." The girl used a key to unlock the black sedan rather than the clicker attached to a chain that stated in faded purple letters, "Virginia is for Lovers." 

"When did you get your license?"

"About a month ago." Her voice sounded like eyes shifting and toes tapping during amateur poker night. 

"Do you want me to drive?" James did not want admit he knew when she was lying. When his dad taught him to play the game, Dwayne made a point to mention to his son, "Do not be all arrogant and point out tells until the game is over and the opponent will not be seen or played with again." Doing that would ensure a player lost his edge. James did not want to surrender the only power he had over her. 

"No." She did not bother to explain why. The couple sat and buckled in silent agreement that the radio would not turn on, that words would not be uttered, that sound from this point on was unacceptable. James thought about nodding off to escape for a moment, but the palpable charge of sitting next to her made it impossible to be calm in an otherwise comfortable silence. Minutes swept by as James began to list his life's regrets and what ifs and all the could've, should've, would'ves. Dawn arrived and the sun shone as it did before and would the distant future days ahead. It should be overcast today. The thought had just popped into James' mind though he did not want to think it. Yes, yes, it should. Now. Go. Away. The thought scattered away, but lingered all the same. 

At a stop light hours from home, the girl reached over and pulled out a journal from the backseat. She plopped the book into James' lap and he began to read. 

My partner and I searched tirelessly until we ran out of time. Sunlight streamed into the room, illuminating an eclectic assortment of modernly angular furniture sitting astutely upon spotless tan carpeting. If two were to attempt this, they would have one hour. I suggest looking under the rug. All lies are swept there. 

James looked up from the instructions to see a large glass building looming ahead. This is it. The grounds were deserted and had been abandoned long ago. When the experiments stopped. The girl drove along the winding driveway to the front entrance. Cautiously, she slammed her car door shut and whipped around to see if anyone other James was present. When no one appeared, the two walked forward and pressed into the glass wall before them. The strange sensation of melting caused James to reach for his partner's hand. She latched on and pulled. They fell inside. The tan carpet that caught their fall, absorbed and massaged their feet as the two wandered to the end of a long hallway. 

"This is it." the girl whispered. 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" 

"I can't keep living this lie. I can't stand knowing the others live a lie without realizing. We have to do this. It is no longer about Want." 

James looked into her pleading eyes and realized despite his initial feeling that the mission was for love,  there was more to it. Much more. 

"Okay. Then, let's go." 

As if the building had been waiting for consent, something below their feet began to move. A once invisible escalator appeared in the shape of a double helix, and they were going up. The top of the escalator dropped off over a room James recognized from the journal entry. Everything was the same, except the room was covered in dust, cobwebs perched in every corner, and the window had been painted over with an villainous gray substance unlike any material James had even seen. 

"Quick! Prepare for landing!" the girl said as the escalator neared the top and emptied them out into a cloud of dust. When they landed the dust flew up into nothingness, and the room was clean with sunlight streaming through the window that was once covered in grime. 

"TIME STARTS NOW." an overhead automated voice declared. A holographic hour glass appeared in the center of the room. Tiny diamonds fell to mark the lapsing of time rather sand. I suggest looking under the rug. All lies are swept there. James and the girl dived into the carpet, the once gentle fabric that massaged their feet, pulled them forward driving them deeper into the ground. 

"It's a trap." James' bitter voice filled the room. Of course, why would anyone want someone to succeed with a mission like this. Of course it's a trap. James looked to the hourglass, the diamonds were falling rapidly. It seemed that the longer the two were stuck, the more time progressed. Beyond the diamond hourglass, James noticed a familiar looking window along the wall. Remember quicksand? The same voice that annoyed James earlier rose up again. This time, the voice offered helpful advice. With all the strength he could muster, James slowly flattened his body on top of the carpet and the sinking stopped. When James looked to his partner he noticed that she was attempting to do the same. Now if only there was something close to grab onto and get you out of this mess. The voice chattered away. James could feel himself sinking once again. When he looked over to the girl, he was alarmed to find that only her face appeared above the carpet as she gasped for air. Let go. Just let go, James.

James felt his resolve to float away and his reason finally lectured him that dying was better than fulfilling the mission in the first place. As James sank he felt the hand of the girl reach for his; they drifted deeper. The smells within the carpet were different for the girl and the boy. They were scents reminiscent of comfort. The girl breathed in wafts of freshly baked sugar cookies and lavender. James was overwhelmed by whiffs of sizzling bacon and tobacco the smells that brought back his favorite memory--a fishing retreat with his dad where they ate and did what was not usually allowed at home. Then, the slow drift into comfort and nothing abruptly opened into a full speed drop into darkness. 

"15 MINUTES." 

"We're still in it, James! This is part of it!" 

James landed first into the room of gray and yellow. On one side there was a ladder, the same ladder the girl held the night before. The window at the top was open and yellow curtains breezed in and out despite the lack of wind. The other side of the room was a large silver switch labeled "OFF" and the diamond hourglass perched beside it. On the floor, large letters printed in a woman's script: "THE CHOICE IS YOURS." 

"The choice is ours, James. We can do this. I need your help to pull the switch. It is supposed to be pulled by one of my kind and one of yours. It was meant for us." 

"First, answer two questions." 

"5 MINUTES"

"Yes?" 

"Do you love me?" 

"Yes. Always." her voice was even and accented by the Pennsylvania Dutch surroundings from home.

"Second question. What is your name?"

"Miranda." The voice had a Southern twang. Sounded like shifting eyes and tapping feet. James knew the girl in front of him with the coy smile would never play him again, but he kept the tell to himself and lightly brushed her lips with his. 

"Okay. I'm ready."

Twenty years after the mission was completed, a little girl wrote a report entitled: An Honest Death. This is what she wrote:  

Four minutes later the world's sky grew dark. Women screamed and men sobbed. Airplanes crashed and houses burned. The robotic people with human conscience and the ability to experience human growth and development, an experiment to help childless couples have their dreams fulfilled with children, were turned off all at once. These people had not known their origins until one's faulty wiring led her to the truth. The girl's name was Eve Carpenter, and her decision to turn off nearly destroyed the world. Her faulty wiring also lead to a sense of independence that Carpenter's original family could not cope with so she was promptly discarded. Carpenter had a partner, James Adams, one of 47 human children who survived the trend of robotic children and was created naturally. Adams disappeared the day of the mission, and his body was found twenty years later trapped under the carpeted flooring of Eden Laboratories, the genesis of the world-changing mission. Carpenter's last words are cemented in her now infamous one line essay, A Note to The Institution, "No one will ever live a lie again." 

The End of a Chapter

            The February heat was unbearable. Sunny looked past the tavern to the end of the empty road. The sidewalks should be covered in snow; the road is supposed to be grainy with salt and slush. She grimly pondered at the sight of steam and haze drifting up from the asphalt. If she stood in one place too long her dollar store sandals would stick to the ground. Everything was sticky.

             Sunny took one last drag of her cigarette and pressed it out leisurely into the side of the Rusty Nail’s yellow siding. Chicken Shit Yellow. The color never failed to remind her of the time she showed her mother the first dress she ever made. The high pitched squeal of delight filled their trailor as the woman screeched, “Sunny! It’s chicken shit yellow! Ha! Go over and stand next to the Rusty Nail and see if I can find you. Go on. It’ll be fun. I’ll bring the camera.” The chickens in the yard seemed to cluck louder in agreement as Mama egged her on. Mama. It was a thought filled with longing, and the longing didn’t surprise her as much anymore. Mama was her mama and that was that.

            Her apron hung behind the bar so crisp and pressed that it took the shape of a person with her arms akimbo as if to say, “Took you long enough.” When she reached for the strings to tie around her waist, two gentle calloused hands reached out to do it for her.

            “Gettin’ pretty hot out there.” His breath, cool and fresh, swept over her neck making tiny blond hairs stand at attention. Justin could make a woman shiver no matter what the heat index. Too bad he’s taken.

            “All white again I see.”

            “It is the uniform.” Justin threw a dish rag over his shoulder. The white tee rippled as he moved and Sunny wondered if the man was losing weight. The usually tan complexion had lightened despite the constant sun beating down on the quiet town. His green eyes still glimmered with boyish optimism, but the color was dull and nearly translucent. He’s getting worse. “Here, catch.”

            A book flew into Sunny hands, the dust from the flying pages tingled her nose. The girl on the cover looked familiar. She and Sunny could have been sisters. The wide forehead smartly obstructed by yellowish bangs, the small tilt of the freckled nose, a dimple in the chin.

            “Page 47.”

            “Do you want me to read out loud, little boy?”

            “That’s not necessary.”

            The sidewalks were covered in snow. The streets were grainy with salt and slush as two giggling women bounded toward the local pub. As they reached their destination, the younger of the two, perhaps the daughter, whipped off her jacket and proceeded to pose while hugging the side of the building. The older laughed and snapped her camera from various angles shouting, “That’s my girl!”

            Sunny slammed the book closed and threw it on the floor. The cover girl’s brown eyes wondered up at her.

            “It’s your story, Sunny. You need to read it all the way through this time.”

            She heard his words, and knew they were real, but could not bring herself to believe them. Mama. The longing crushed her then. You promised that I could wait.

            “I did promise.” He sighed and sat down gingerly his body folding awkwardly into a child’s pose. Sunny realized then just what waiting meant for the creature who kept her company in the limbo she had selected for herself. Little bits of home with the heat of hell she firmly believed that she deserved. She was hesitant move on, especially to a place she believed was foolish to accept her. She gazed into the once emerald eyes that pleaded quietly with love and grace.

            “What page?”

            “Are you sure?” Justin stood up from his place behind the bar; and as he stood Sunny noticed his pants were without a trace of the dust and grime that covered every surface of the Rusty Nail. “49.”

            The warmth of the pub greeted the women as they burst inside, their bodies tense from the February chill. One by one drinks came to comfort their throats with heat that grew less startling with time experienced. Keys were tossed to the bar keep. The younger woman, perhaps the daughter, recited a backwards alphabet to prove that renting a room upstairs during a blizzard was not necessary. “I sober enough to walk my Mama home,” she proclaimed. The yellow dress swished under her down jacket as she grabbed the house keys from an older man with a grim bearded face and soft blue eyes. Bright lights blinded the women minutes later. Darkness followed. The younger woman slipped into this world while the older remained in the darkness. Now the younger waits for the older in hopes to move on together.

            Sunny’s eyes prickled with tears. “I have to wait for her. It was my fault. My fault. I tripped on the ice. She tripped over me. I remember her laugh in my ears and how it faded as the lights came hurdling towards us. The snow was heavy. The driver couldn’t see…” As she spoke, her heart surge upward and Justin wrapped her in his arms and cradled her as she trembled from the force of facing something she had avoided so long. The lighting dimmed. A monotonous sound grew in her ears. Sunny knew how she should feel, but fear alluded her. The bell that never rung above the door chimed. The face she craved beamed down.

            “Time to go, baby girl.” Weeping and laughing the older and younger braced and finally went home.

            As Justin watched the mother and daughter walk through the lightly drifting snow, the pub’s walls fell away to reveal a stark white office. Justin settled down into his chair and a book materialized with bright yellow binding and a man with a grim bearded face and soft blue eyes on the cover. Justin’s fingers grazed the over the man’s face, opened the book, and he began to read.