In The Beginning
By ColdDaye
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Premise: I called the series Bad Season because I couldn't think of a better name, and so maybe other reasons could become apparent later in the stories. I figure, all these institutes do PR stuff by inviting the youth in for special programs, so why not the Banzai Institute? (Also because I can't feel the HKC or BBI's enough to do a hardcore story through their eyes) The result is a series through the eyes of a young adult there for a summer program who's probably post freshman. Think about it, if we lived in their universe, we'd see them on TV all the time, these big bad scientists and rock stars, so how do we act when we see them in real life? So anyway, no more procrastinating.
Disclaimer: not mine. Earl Mac Rauch and the movie people get them. Except my OCs. Road to Wellville belongs to T. Boyle and whichever movie company made it.
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Bad Season: In the Beginning
By ColdDaye
The room was spartan. The room was so spartan, it was actually beyond minimalist to bare. It had a bed, a desk, a chair. Norah tossed her bag onto the bed and turned in a full circle. This is the Banzai Institute, and now she felt a little gypped. The pamphlet, you know, it had color.
She had signed on for a summer internship through Davis, and was thinking this probably hadn't been the safest choice. Safe of course being that she could be spending the summer in her beloved desert or staying at the University working minimum wage at the Gap. What's not to love about the Gap? But no.
She opted for the once-in-a-lifetime chance and the pamphlet had color and this room certainly didn't - at all - and she felt cheated. And lonely. And just a little (don't tell anyone) homesick. Dinner in two hours and what'll she do until then? It never occured to Norah that there would be more to this job than just helping with lab work. she might actually have to talk to people. Strangers. But they weren't really - everyone knew the Hong Cong Kavaliers and the Blue Blaze Irregulars and read all the comic books and seen them on TV and it was so much different admiring them from the back of a bar to all of the sudden see Perfect Tommy storming past her in the hall as she tried to unlock the door of her room. And yes, he is so cute, even when he's angry and it made her breath catch a little in her throat and now she knows she is in over her head.
Norah lay down next to her duffel, draped an arm over it and hugged it to her chest. She closed her eyes and tried to doze. Let's call it meditation. Isn't that what they do here?
The cafeteria had a buffet like setting and Norah tried to remember the four food groups while she picked a little here, a little there. Yogurt is dairy, right? and carrot slivers from the salad bar and peaches cover fruits and vegetables, and bacon is meat - and then there's one more...she was reaching for a bread roll when a somewhat large arm snaked past hers "'scuse me, miss," he said. She backed up in surprise and stomped on his foot then froze in embarrassment, "Sorry," she squeaked. Rawhide! she just stepped on Rawhide! Now she was through - no matter how nice they seem on TV they always get mean in real life. Real people have a tendency anyway, to lose the smiles and saccharin goodness of respectable talk show attitudes.
But he just chuckled (and who does that in real life) and shifted her over while she stood still as a statue utterly mortified. Five seconds, maybe less, that's all it took. She stepped on the legendary Rawhide and he didn't do anything about it. If he had been just a Joe Normal on the street she would've apologized and that was that, but this was Rawhide! And he didn't think anything of it. So maybe neither should she. Norah grabbed the roll she'd been after and scanned the room looking for an empty table.
The closest she could get had a single guy sitting there, stereotypical geek with the glasses and the C++ bible near one hand. "Can I sit here?" she asked.
"Uh-huh," he said, without looking up. Even better. These are the types that get sucked into anything they read. She could ask him anything and he'd say yes. she could ask for his wallet even and he'd probably give it to her in the few moments before his brain caught up with his mouth.
Norah started eating quickly chew swallow chew swallow but she noticed that the guy was beating her. "Hey!" she said, "You're winning."
He stopped and finally looked at her face full on. "What?"
She smiled a little nervous, "You're winning already. Chew more or you might choke. You know, fletcherize!"
He gave her a blank look. After a moment he asked, "What's that mean?" She looked back up, surprised. Normally they would have found a different table by now, or launched a new topic of discussion with one of those in-jokes she wasn't allowed to follow. But this, this was new.
"Fletcherize?" she asked. He nodded. "He was this guy during the early Health Food Movement that thought it would be really good for you to chew until liquification of your food. You know, chew every mouthful forty times or something like that?"
He nodded a slow grin starting across his face, "Yeah, I've heard that. So that's where it came from?"
"Yeah! It's even in the movie, Road to Wellville, with Matthew Broderick and Anthony Hopkins. Actually had a lot of stars. They had a song, at the San, the uh, Sanitarium where Broderick's character goes to get healthy - it goes chew chew chew, that is the thing to do," she sang. He laughed.
"I've never seen that movie! Sounds great. Hey, I'm Neal, by the way." He set down his fork and stuck his hand out.
"I'm Norah."
"Here for the summer junior intern whatever thing?"
"Yeah. Food Science, what are you in for?"
"Mathematics."
She made a face, "Blech! Numbers- please."
"What's wrong with numbers?" he asked.
"I dunno. I just like words. Everything is sensibly clear and wonderfully vague at the same time."
Neal looked at her like he didn't know whether to laugh or not so she smiled to help him out. He grinned back and was about to say something when another person sat down at the table. "You kids mind if I sit here?" a man in a leisure suit asked. He seemed as though he was in a good mood and his tray held two plates piled high with food.
"Sure - I'm mean, no - " Neal said.
"We mean we'd love it if you'd join us!" Norah took over, smiling bubbly riding the euphoria of connecting with someone new.
"Thanks," he said, smiling at her. He sat across from them and began to eat in jerky quick movements.
Neal turned to her, "So, where did you get all that stuff about words? Is that like, your major? I mean, English?"
"Naw, Food Science really is my major. English is a hobby. Sort of. I love to write."
"Me, I can't. Like at all. My teachers assign a 500-word essay and I can't get past the first sentence." He frowned at a forkful of what had been labeled Chinese fried rice.
"Essays follow an easy pattern - "
"Really?"
"Yeah. First sentence, introduce the book or poem or whatever and the author and answer the question they ask. second and third sentences elaborate on that, like with facts to back up your stand. The second paragraph just takes the first fact you used and stretches it out to, mmm, eight to ten sentences, and the third takes the second and so on. The conclusion restates the first paragraph basically, but tells how you answered and supported yourself."
Neal looked at her, slightly dazed it seemed, but shook himself out of it. "C-could you write that down?"
"Sure!" And he wasn't even trying to make excuses to leave yet. Amazing.
"And what happens if the essay makes a statement instead of asking a question?" the man asked. That was surprising. He'd seemed as if he just wanted to enjoy a contemplative meal.
"You rephrase the statement into a question. Like a yes or no kind, one you can stand firm on either one way or the other." He nodded as if to show that it was the right answer and she felt relieved, which was silly. Here was some stranger that made her feel like she was passing a test. Huh. Though he did look sort of familiar -
"Hey, I'm through. That's it, no more." Neal pushed his tray away a few inches and sat back, "How about you? You want to check out the entertainment place here?"
"They have one?"
"Yeah! S'pose to have a big screen TV and tons of channels."
Her eyes widened, "Maybe it has FoodTV!" Neal tilted an eyebrow downward and gave her an odd look.
"Uh-huh. Maybe. Uh," he sat up, "You wanna go check it out?"
"Sure, I'm full." She followed him to the dish return and they left the man sitting there munching away. On the way out of the dining room they passed by a table with all kinds of comic book characters- okay, so these were the real deal, Perfect Tommy and Rawhide and New Jersey and Pecos and Buckaroo and his wife, Peggy. Wow.
Norah felt her stomach twist for just a moment, but then the moment was past and she followed Neal down the hallway and around, exploring.
"Chew chew chew, that is the thing to do," she found herself singing later that night, as she wandered a darkened hall trying to find the dormrooms. She turned toward a lighted area and found a small aside like a hidden open office, a yound man sitting at the desk tapping away at the computer. He looked up guiltily as she entered. "Uh, hey," he said.
She giggled (what is getting into me) and said, "Hey! Whatcha working on?"
"Just a game. Sort of."
"Hush hush? James Bond need to know?" her smile was ready to split her face and if it weren't for the endorphins, her cheeks would hurt already. They'd settled on a BBCAMerica late night showing of Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels. Good stuff. GREAT stuff.
"Sorta," he grinned back, "Just changing the screensaver to something, uh, special."
"oooo!" she said, "So who's is that normally?"
"Mrs. Johnson's."
Norah tilted her head, "Do you work here?"
"Uh, yeah? I live here. Billy Travers," he said, sticking out a hand. She stepped closer and shook it, solemnly.
"Norah Tappersling."
"Are you here for that summer program?" he asked.
"Yeah," she closed her eyes, "Have Fun This Summer at the Banzai Institute learning necessary research and life skills - Join the Junior Intern Program! Only that the pamphlet had color and the rooms don't."
"What?"
"The rooms are all blah and the pamphlet made it sound like something totally different. Sorry," she added as he raised an eyebrow, "I'm usually more articulate but I think it's past my bedtime. Do you know where the dorms are?" Wordlessly, he pointed to his left. "Thanks!"
"No problem. Uh, you can put up posters and stuff, you know," Billy said, "For color."
She shrugged, "Yeah, I probably will. Just got here today. I dunno," She lifted a shoulder again, "Maybe I'll like it more tomorrow. Hey - "
"Huh?"
"You look different in the comics," she said. He gave her a wry grin.
"Yeah, well, they call it artistic license. You seen Casper's nose?"
She laughed. This was strange and would be stranger if she were awake enough to analyze the situation - so maybe it was better she wasn't. Yes, they are heroes and wonderous and wild and Billy was probably doing something he shouldn't have been, but nevermind that...He wasn't nearly as scary in person as she thought he would've been.
Something to chew on, her neighbor would say, and that brought to mind the fletcherize song again. She smiled.
"Have a good one," she told him even though she'd never figured out what that really meant.
"Thanks, uh, you too," he said, turning his attention back to the monitor. Norah continued down the hall. People are people no matter where you go - her number one reason to aspire to hermit-hood, but Neal was a nice guy right off, and maybe he would change his mind tomorrow, maybe not, and now there's Billy, who's like a real person, only nicer.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
