Crossroads with Half the Information Read online

  Slowly, Rita moved one foot forward, then the next. The arms holding her, helped her keep her balance. She only had to walk to the double doors. Now, they stood open, revealing another door, directly behind, without walls at its side. Only a door standing in the middle of the room.

  Sweat formed on her forehead. The suit got heavier by the minute. But she kept going. Giving up now wasn’t an option. The weekend on the Moon was waiting for her.

  “Maybe you could add a heat reducer to the suit for the next tourist. It’s freaking hot to walk in this thing”, said Rita just to say something. “Can I have something to drink?”

  Linda Maye said nothing.

  Those people here needed a bit more humor, thought Rita and continued to step forward.

  “Stop it!”, called a voice from behind her. “Don’t step through that door. It is not safe!”

  The smell of fried potatoes or other food intensified.

  “Come on, haven’t you guys delayed this enough already?”, asked Linda Maye and turned around. Her face was annoyance in its purest form. The feeling Rita had, for not becoming food before leaving. Especially after waiting for so long.

  And now? Another delay.

  “Give me some french fries while you discuss, please”, said Rita and smiled at Linda, who stood in front of her.

  Linda Maye stared at her as if she was crazy.

  “Good idea”, said the guy from behind her, who had interrupted the final steps before stepping through the new door. “How about you undress, go into the cafeteria and eat. Take your time. Add a beverage and a cake to the menu.”

  Rita sweated and her stomach rumbled. This suit, fitting as it was, wasn’t made for the Earth climate. Or walking in it.

  “If you leave now, your lottery win will be revoked”, said Linda Maye. “Think about it. A weekend on our Moon resort. The great hotel with a unique view down to the Earth.”

  The person from behind came around and faced Linda Maye.

  “Are you really trying to bribe her into death?”, the new person in the usual suit asked.

  Rita couldn’t even decide if it was a man or a woman. Thanks to the hairnet and, if it was a man, the perfectly clean-shaven face.

  “You saw what was left of the robot after we rolled it through the door!”

  Linda Maye said nothing. She pressed her lips firmly together.

  Rita waited a moment. Linda Maye didn’t seem too content anymore.

  “What happened to the robot?”, asked Rita. Somehow the fate of that metal thing was relevant for her, otherwise the person wouldn’t have mentioned it.

  “We do not know”, said Linda Maye. “It might have walked into the wrong directions. Robots do stupid things thanks to programming errors.”

  “The robot vanished between the doors. It’s someplace between here and Phobos. If we lose Rita Little that way, she will have no chance to ever come back. We will never find her. Something is wrong with this pair of doors”, said the other person.

  Rita looked from one to the other. The hands of the two people supporting her walk were still on her arms, which was a good thing. Otherwise, she might have already collapsed in her heavy suit. Drifting alone in the empty space until she ran out of oxygen wasn’t her favorite death method.

  “If I’m not getting any food, maybe a chair would be possible?”, asked Rita. “Your discussion seems to need a bit more time to come to a conclusion.”

  A diplomatic description, like most of the similar ones she used in her office job to keep customers happy without giving them any guarantee on the delivery date of their orders. Usually it worked. Not this time.

  “No! No more chairs! No more delays from security! No more fussing around! Each minute costs us more money without anything to present in return”, said Linda Maye. “Our company shareholder value needs results. Now!”

  Linda Maye stomped on the floor. Barely audible, but clearly visible.

  Like a little, angry child.

  Rita looked at Linda Maye who quickly composed herself.

  “Sorry. Security is such a pain in the ass sometimes. I shouldn’t have lost my temper”, said Linda Maye. “Your security is our highest concern. Of course.”

  Rita raised her eyebrow. Somehow that stomping and shouting robbed Linda Maye of all authority she got with her fake smile. Besides, she knew how company shareholder shaped daily work first hand from her job.

  If her contact person couldn’t work with a bit of pressure, she would happily stay on Earth. She would find a way to explain to her supervisor why he couldn't talk about her testing a new space travel possiblity and catch up on the missed work. She might not find the risks worth a second thought, but surely she wasn’t here to die because of the company shareholder value.

  What if something actually went wrong? Really wrong, not only an annoyance with security?

  Rita lost the confident feeling, that Linda Maye had her security as the top of the priority list.

  “I think I’d like to eat some french fries until I get another personal contact for this trip”, said Rita. “If I lose my temper due to any of the many annoyances I face in my daily work with customs I wouldn’t work there for long. Security, as far as I care, is your daily annoyance. Learn your profession.”

  Linda Maye gaped at her with an open mouth. Speechless.

  Rita turned her head as far as she could. “Get me out of this suit, please.”

  The hands on her arms moved down her arms to loosen the clasps that held her gloves to the suit.

  “We will revoke your lottery win”, said Linda Maye a bit too loud.

  Rita wanted to shrug, but the suit was heavy enough so that the movement didn’t show.

  “I don’t care about that, if you don’t care about my life”, said Rita.

  The security person smiled.

  “I’m sure, we can arrange a compensation for your time and understanding. A little thank you for not disclosing the information you got to anybody outside the travel agency for holidays in the solar system”, said the security person.

  “Wait! What?”, shouted Linda Maye.

  “You may cancel the lottery win”, said the security person, “I’m responsible for the security of both the doors and the information. So”, the person turned towards Rita and continued. “Are you willing to sign a nondisclosure agreement about anything you heard, saw, experience or learned during your time within our organization?”

  Rita listened and thought about it. What would be the offer for her playing along? And what had she really seen? The introductory courses for the people using the doors? Weren’t they the same as those used for tourists who went to the Moon? A vast, empty hall? Oh, and, not to forget the fact of the long waiting time without getting food?

  She smiled at that thought. Even the discussion she just listened to didn’t make for a juicy headline against the travel agency in her opinion. After all, she was still here, safe and sound. The security person did the job and the unethical Linda Maye would surely be gone by the end of their talk.

  “In exchange, we offer you a full week in our hotel on the Moon. You’re allowed to bring company. One person only. No minors only an adult”, said the security guy.

  Without thinking twice, Rita answered: “Yes.”

  She would miss the pictures she might have taken from Phobos, but she looked forward to the pictures she would make from the Moon. Aside from that, Carolyn would be overly happy to join her. She smiled thinking at her best friend jumping around in her room when she got the call to join her.

  “Can we call my friend now and go today? I’ve a week off, and she could organize one as well”, said Rita. At least she assumed her supervisor would allow Carolyn the same he had allowed her. Maybe she could mutter the same words, he had muttered to her.

  The two people who helped her to the door helped her walk back to the plastic chair in the waiting room. As she sat down, it returned to the curved shape, where she stared at the point where the white wall and the white ceili
ng met.

  “We’ll bring your french fries in a few minutes and will call your friend immediately”, said one of the two people. Both left.

  Rita was back to waiting, laying in her plastic chair. She listened to the double doors being closed. Something clattered. It sounded like metal and a key that was turned around, coming from the double door with the new pair of doors.

  THE END

  The Griffin’s Wedding Ring

  The bed was soft below Isabella. The black canopy sparkled with golden stars above her and in front of her eyes. She knew there were five hundred and seventy-three stars on it. Three of them with only four startips. She had embroidered most during the year after she lost her family, when she had been sixteen. She had run out of yarn on the last tree stars, like her family had run out of luck.

  The memory of her dream faded slowly.

  She remembered soft, copper-colored fur under her fingers and against her cheek. The feeling of being safe and loved. She had dreamed this dream a lot during the past years. Never could she remember what animal the fur belonged to. She hoped, one day she would remember the whole animal and not only a feeling of softness and security mixed with metal.

  Today was her twenty-fifth birthday. A day she had planned to celebrate with a huge party. One where she had intended to invite the extended family, her friends, and her co-workers.

  Instead of checking in with the event crew she had hired, she still laid in her warm and comfy bed. Looking up at the canopy, thinking about her family. Or rather, thinking about the thick, padded letter she received yesterday, with the family stamp on its back.

  Isabella had put it on the nightstand next to her bed. Beside her address and name there were some big dark red letters saying: “Open on your birthday. Caution. Not earlier.”

  Those letters had followed her into her dreams.

  Something about the shade of red threw her back years in her life and pulled up memories she had pushed away. Memories of happy laughter, when she hadn’t had to force herself to enjoy the world.

  The birthday party today was more a show than her real will. She had to prove to herself and the world that she kept going. Kept moving forward. All the while she felt like she couldn’t move because of some unfinished business.

  A feeling of being held back. A feeling she had to finish something and didn’t know what. She had finished and embroidered that canopy for her bed, hoping it would release that feeling. It hadn’t. Every year, in the week before her birthday, she sorted through the things she had kept from her family, before moving to a new city, only bringing her bed and a few memorabilia with her.

  The feeling of unfinished business lingered. She had finished school. She had gone to university, graduated and started a job. Nothing helped. Something lurked in the past, and she couldn’t point to it.

  The letter was the first clue. It was cream-colored and nondescript. Except for the bold red letters.

  A warning she hadn’t dared to ignore.

  But why hadn’t she opened the letter already?

  Isabella tried to pinpoint the cause. She had waited for a hint for so long. She had expected herself to be joyous and happy to get one. So what was it, that made her stay put under the thick warm blanket, looking up at the golden stars and think about old memories and unfinished businesses?

  Today was her birthday! She was allowed to open the letter.

  Isabella inhaled the cool air of her bedroom. The heater got turned down centrally by the houses control system each night and in the mornings it was cool. But she was used to cold temperatures. She came from the North and had moved to the South. The heat during the summer months, when the slightest movements resulted in sweat forming beads all over her skin, was much more difficult for her.

  She exhaled.

  Whatever the reason. Lying on her back, staring at the stars, wondering if it would have made a difference to buy more yarn for finishing the last stars in the size of the others, wouldn’t change anything. Except reducing the time she had to read the letter and supervise the last details for her birthday party this afternoon.

  Isabella pushed herself up into a sitting position. The soft mattress gave way, and she wiggled, until she found a new balance. The cool air seeped through her thin nightgown and made her back shudder.

  Thanks to sleeping with the shutters open, the room was already lit up by the morning light.

  Isabella reached for the cream envelope. Yesterday it had seemed lighter. She put it on top of the blanket, that still warmed her lap. The red letters weren’t there anymore. Only her name and address, written with a blue ball pen or something similar.

  Did she imagine those letters? A hallucination or a dream?

  It hadn’t been that late yesterday, and she didn’t drink alcohol over dinner with her co-workers in the restaurant. She briefly remembered the spaghetti aglio e olio. Her favorite dish, for the garlic burnt in her mouth. Combined with the softness of the noodles it reminded her of being alive. Just like chili and hot bell peppers did, which were on her menu equally often. She even ordered chili-crackers and a bell pepper pie to be on the buffet for her birthday. The sweet candy cakes were there for her guests. She wouldn’t touch them. They were too sweet and sticky on her tongue. A taste she had always hated. Even as a child, when relatives had offered her sweets, she had just handed them over to her little sister, who had loved those stuff.

  Her eyes filled with water. Her little sister was lost to her too.

  Isabella pushed the thought away and wiped her eyes clean. She had a letter to open and a party to celebrate!

  Slowly she caressed over the envelope. It felt like the padding was there to protect something thicker than a piece of paper. She fumbled at the closing and ripped open one edge. The sound of paper ripping apart mixed with the crinkling of plastic.

  Quickly, Isabella ripped the clasp completely open.

  Her heart beat faster and her palms got wet. What if something dangerous was inside?

  The scent of dried herbs rose from the envelope. She couldn’t identify to which spice it belonged, but by the grassy smell to it was a dried leave or green.

  Isabella slowly turned the envelope upside down. She shock it a bit. Something slid over the plastic, rustling faintly.

  She held her breath.

  Then it plopped on her blanket. Hot and hard. It felt like it would burn through the tissue any second, for her upper legs heated from the item.

  It was the signet ring of her mother. The one memorabilia she had searched for and not found when leaving the house of her family forever. The ring she had totally forgotten ever since. It was a dark red, copper-colored band and on top a hexagon plate with a griffin inside and mountains as background.

  Isabella stared at the ring. She couldn’t see the image on the plate for it landed looking the other way. She didn’t need to. It surely was the ring of her mother.

  Who had kept it so long and sent it to her now? Why?

  When the ring didn’t burn through her blanket, merely stayed hot and in its place she turned the envelope around. Opened it more and searched for a letter, a hint, a piece of paper or another word. Anything that might provide an answer.

  There was nothing inside.

  Isabella replaced the envelope to her nightstand.

  Memories of griffin tales returned to her mind. Her mother usually told them during the long winter nights when they were all snuggled together in front of the open fire in the kitchen. Their favorite place. One other family members called unacceptable and expected to be welcomed in the colder but more formal rooms. She could even feel the warm, strong arms of her mother around her back, holding her. Hear her voice that sounded higher and stranger when telling stories. Smelling the smoke of dry wood burning in the fire, combined with the warm feeling of a cup of hot chocolate in her stomach.

  How could she have forgotten about the rings picture and the tales her mother had told her about?

  That was what she was lacking. What she ha
d been searching for: The ring and the memories of her mother.

  For so many years, her mother had been a shadow in her memory, one she couldn’t even picture, no matter how hard she tried. Now it was there. The image of a tall grown lady in her favorite dark red dress, the black belt around her hips with the signet ring dangling down from it. Her usual gown when she worked in the house, mixed new spices together, mended clothes and told tales. Her red hair was braided into two braids that hung down to the ring on both sides of her head. Only on important days she would wind them up into a braided crown.

  Isabella touched her own red hair, that fell soft, curly and messy from sleep, down her back. She had cut it after loosing her family but never again afterwards. Currently, it hung all the way down her back and would be a lot of work to entangle and braid for the day. She preferred one french braid at the back.

  Would she look like her mother if she made two braids? With the image vividly back in her memory Isabella thought so. She could check later, though.

  She picked up the ring with both hands. Careful, as if touched the wrong way it might shatter into pieces and take the memory away again. The metal was still hot and seemed to glow now. Surely a reflection of the sunlight that now fell into the room and touched pieces of her bed.

  She really needed to get going.

  “The ring is the key. Use it wisely”, echoed a memory from one of her mother’s stories through Isabella’s head.

  A key. To which keyhole? Her mother always told fantastical stories, never one with a keyhole.

  At least, none Isabella remembered.

  She had searched her home back then, when she had been a girl, for keyholes which opened with a hexagon key. Of course, she had found none. At least, now she knew why she looked close at each lock she passed by. Another puzzle piece she could place now. She had searched for the lock fitting to her mothers ring.

  “So sad you can’t show me the door for the ring”, whispered Isabella into her empty room.