“EXCUSE ME,” SORD CALLED to the petite woman facing the food prep counter. She wore a light, red-striped dress, a throw-back to food service uniforms worn in the prior century. The woman was preparing a green drink in a blender.

“Ma’am?” Daisy chimed in as they reached the order counter.

She turned around. By Sord’s estimation, the woman was in her late seventies. “Odd,” Sord thought, “everyone chooses their own destiny here. Maybe she doesn’t want to reverse-age, though it’s there for the taking at no risk. That tech has been perfected. Perhaps she only wants to know what getting old feels like.”

Barely five feet tall and of Asian heritage, her long gray hair was tied up in a bun at the back. The name ‘Lam’ was imprinted on a small tag attached to her blouse, and it drooped down aimlessly at one end.

“No smile,” Daisy wondered. “Maybe she’s angry we interrupted her preparation of that green stuff.”

“Ma’am, sorry to disturb you. We have a question,” she began.

The woman grabbed two menus from a counter stand and slid them directly toward the couple. She then turned back to the blender, which was beeping at her.

“We don’t want to eat, Miss Lam. Just have a question.”

Her back was still to them as she poured the green liquid from the blender into a tall, fluted glass.

“Number thirty-two!” she yelled.

They both spun backward to scan the few tables scattered around the atrium. Nobody else was in the vicinity to hear the call. Turning back to face her, they saw she was now scrubbing the blender under the water.

“Won’t that ruin it?” Sord blurted out, thinking the electrical inner workings would get wet.

“Is that your question?” the woman responded. “If so, then no.” She continued her cleaning efforts in silence, rinsing off the blender multiple times.

Daisy and Sord gazed at each other, both giggling uncomfortably. They were unaccustomed to dealing with anyone this old since most people they knew never achieved a physical age past their mid-fifties.

“What’s funny?” she demanded, her back still to them as she grabbed a towel and began vigorously hand-drying the blender.

From her noticeable accent, Daisy could tell her first language was not English. “Nothing funny,” Daisy replied, “and we don’t mean to waste your time.”

“If you are not ordering, then why are you wasting it?”

They looked at each other again and laughed.

“Ma’am. Miss Lam?”

She stopped her activities at the prep counter. “You’re not eating the food I make here, but you want information from me. Is that correct?”

“Correct?” they both responded.

“Be aware of what falls from your tongue, then.”

Both of them snickered. Sord clasped his hand to his chest, signaling he would take the lead. The adventure was his idea after all, and he was slightly nervous. This lady seemed anything but friendly, but she was the only one in sight.

“Um,” Sord began tentatively, “we, um, we’re looking for a facility that was once here.”

“Um, um,” she repeated, taunting him. “That is no word. Um. I don’t know of a facility before this. Bayfield dome goes far back. I lived somewhere else when it was built. Came after.”

“No, no, no. Not a facility right here. Somewhere else. Close by,” he continued.

“Review the marquee over there,” she instructed, pointing her hand backward in the direction of the domed center.

Daisy saw Sord was having trouble connecting with her. “Ma’am. Ms. Lam. We’re sorry if you made that drink for someone who took off.”

“It happens every day. You want it?” she queried.

“No, but thanks, anyway. We both ate not too long ago,” Daisy admitted.

“Made from good greens. Grow them myself.”

“Maybe when we come back. Right, Sord?”

“Sord?” she asked. “Your name is Sord?”

“Uh-huh,” he replied.

She was silent for a moment, nodding her head. “Knew of someone one time named Sord. Some think it means ducks on the ground. Others think it is a flock in flight. I say it is neither, only tenuous possibilities between two potentials. What do you want?”

Both were astonished by her odd remarks, but Daisy continued. “We understand there was a facility somewhere close by and certain parts of it may remain.”

Miss Lam’s prep counter activity stopped completely, and she lifted her head, staring blankly at the wall.

“Kind of facility?”

“Scientific,” Sord added. “A physics laboratory. I don’t know how big the building was but something happened there five years ago. An accident.”

“Accident? What accident? Not many accidents here. Nothing to accident about.”

“I remember seeing it on the news,” Daisy recalled. “It was an explosion or similar kind of thing.”

“No explosion,” she stated flatly. “No explosions in Bayfield.”

“Well, not really an explosion, at least as explained to me,” Sord chimed in.

“Why do you inquire?”

“I knew someone who worked there,” he continued, “and we’d like to check it out.”

The woman raised her arm to wipe her brow, her hand visibly shaking. In a cracked voice, she whispered just loud enough for them to hear, “Not accessible, not inside. I know. I walk by this facility of your interest every day. Draw you a map.”

She scurried through the two-way door into the kitchen.

“What do you think?” Sord whispered. “Shall we slink out of here and try someone else?”

“No,” Daisy warned. “She’ll come back with a map. I can see this question upset her for some reason.”

They waited anxiously at the counter for a few minutes, wondering if she would return. Then the door banged open. Miss Lam’s face was pointed downward to the floor, and she slid a small sheet of paper across the counter toward them. A single drop followed it, wetting the middle of the hand-drawn map.

“Sweat or tear?” Daisy wondered.

“Map,” she grumbled, again turning her back to them as she continued wiping the prep counter with an overused, damp, blue cloth.

“Well, thank you!” Daisy exclaimed. “So nice to draw this for us so quickly. About how far?”

“Kilometer. Uphill. Too many questions now. I must work. Leave your flower here or lose it.”

“What?” Daisy asked. “Oh, I’d almost forgotten I had it here on my belt. I should leave the flower with you?”

“Walking and climbing. Roses live short lives. Some people are the same. Petals fall fast. I’ll put in water. Come back when done.”

Daisy slowly removed the rose stem from her belt loop and set it on the counter. Sord was holding the map outward toward the dome, trying to get his bearings. He raised his hand to ask one more question, but Daisy motioned him to stop.

Something was strange about the entire interchange, but she didn’t want to press it. She grabbed Sord’s elbow and gently pulled him forward and away from the small restaurant counter. They stopped to sit, just beyond the sight of the eatery.

“I wanted to remove ourselves from there,” she confided.

“Why? She wasn’t that friendly, but the map looks pretty well done.”

“Put aside her demeanor for a second. Miss Lam knows something about the place, especially if she walks by it every day. I felt it wasn’t the right time to dig deeper, however. She was injured by its mention. Did you notice how she tensed up?”

Sord laughed. “I thought the whole thing was pretty intense, so it was hard to pick up any nuances. At least she was helpful. I thought she was mad because after making that drink, nobody came to get it.”

“It was almost as if she made it for no one present. A ghost. I didn’t see a soul within a hundred meters. She called out number thirty-two. That’s all I remember. Shame to waste it, though.”

“Hum,” he chuckled uncomfortably. “Odd indeed. Want to help me figure out the directions for this map? Her writing is so tiny."