I’m deep in thought about all of this for quite a while before there’s a knock at the door and a small cart comes in pushed by a tall, striking black woman in a pale yellow outfit that really makes her complexion pop, in a good way. The belt of her top is cinched up in a way that accents her, ahem, generous figure, and the top two buttons are undone. I assume so she has room to breathe. She looks over at me sitting at the table and flashes a big, white smile.

“You must be the new guy, Bethy told me about you,” she says with a little wink, “I’m Trina.”

“Pleased to meet you Trina, you are a vision of loveliness,” I stand and hold out a hand to shake, which she accepts, “I’m Aaron.”

“So I’ve heard. Bethy also told me you’re a shameless flirt,” she bends over farther than is strictly necessary to extract drink bottles from the chilled compartment in the cart, then stands up, “Do you mind?” she motions me to the side so she can get past to load the drinks into the mini fridge.

I sit down on the bed to get out of the way.

“You know what else Bethy said?” she asks as she goes through the same exaggerated motions one more time.

“I don’t know… that I’m a no good jerk that you don’t want to get involved with?”

“Not quite,” she laughs as she stops in front of me, “But you did make an impression. I guarantee that,” she smiles again, “No. She told me me that you showed her how to lock doors,” she leans down so that we’re face to face, with her hands on either side of my hips on the bed, showing a generous amount of cleavage through those two open buttons, “She said that she’d get in trouble with the council if she showed me, but if you were to show me, well… that would be different. So,” she moves a little closer, “Do you think you can show me?”

I bite my bottom lip and shake my head slowly, “You’re workin’ an angle. What is it?”

“Offer’s on the table, pretty boy, and it’s a good offer.”

“Hey baby, I’ll be the first one to say that this offer is extremely attractive, no doubt. But you’re workin' an angle and I got to know what it is before I can agree to anything.”

“Why’s that?” she breathes into my ear.

“Because if it’s a good angle,” I whisper back into her own ear, “I want in on the ground floor, with a piece of the action.”

At this, she stands up straight with her hands on her hips and a great big smile, “Bethy said you were smarter than you looked, and she was right! I think I like you!”

“Gee, thanks… I think. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to spend some quality time alone with myself in the bathroom.”

“Hah!” she spouts, and bends in the middle from the force of the laugh.

“Hey, it’s not that funny. I mean, I’m not weird about it, I don’t tie myself up first or anything…”

“Oh God! I don’t believe it,” she’s starting to gasp for breath at this point.

“Hey, are you ok? Did I say something funny? What’d I give you an eargasm or what?”

“Oh, fuck! Ok I give up! Just stop, please, I…”

“Hey, this is just the foreplay baby, we haven’t even got to the main event yet . . .” at which point she is saved by a knock at the door where a tall, lean black man sticks his head in and says:

“You wanted some sushi?” fairly enthusiastically.

“Hey Michael,” says Trina, straightening up and still chuckling, “Just let me get out of your way,” pushing her cart out the door she smiles back and says, “I’ll see YOU later, pretty boy.”

“Wow, first time I ever been called that with a straight face. Wait, maybe second.”

She laughs her way out the door, “Alright Michael, he’s all yours!”

Michael comes in pushing a cart full of sushi. Jeez, how many people does he think I am? Al wasn’t lying, this kid is probably in his mid twenties and is really into it. His outfit is all black, with a silver belt and trim on the top. Now I have an approximate idea of where my new pants and shoes came from.

“Man!” he says, “What’d you do to that girl? I’ve never seen her like that. She’s usually kinda’… sour. You know?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll take your word for it ‘cause I ain’t never met her before. She tried to seduce me so I pulled out my tiny pecker and she tried to laugh herself to death.”

“Really?” he’s seriously asking.

“No, not really. I’m just fuckin’ with ya.”

“Well, whatever you did, keep it up. We could all use a lot more of THAT kinda’ Trina than the one we usually got,” he says in all seriousness, “but watch out for that girl, she’s always tryin’ to work an angle!”

“Oh, trust me,” I laugh, “I figured that out.”

“Ok, good. She’s not always as subtle about it as she thinks she is.” He starts loading down my little table with rectangular plates of very tasty looking fish and rice treats.

“I don’t think she was going for subtle with me. And that looks delicious!”

“Why thank you! Chopsticks?”

“Absolutely! And since you know her, is Trina used to always getting her way?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say she’s necessarily used to it, but she always seems to feel like she deserves it and gets real bitchy about it. A lot of people who have to be around her a lot tend to pick their battles real carefully. Let her have her way about little things so they can remind her about ‘em when they have to shut her down about something big. It seems to work ok, but you gotta really keep track, ‘cause you can bet she will. She’s sharp like that.”

“That’s some good intel, thanks. I better start keeping score now. I got a feeling I’ll be seeing her again before long. Anything else you can tell me? Can I bribe you with some excellent sushi?”

“Oh, I can guarantee you that,” he laughs, setting down the last few things on the table, “She said so. And actually, I was hoping you’d let me join you. I really want to get your take on my work here.”

“Absolutely!” I gesture to the table, “Please, have a seat and let us sample and discuss.”

He smiles, and he does, and we do. The first few bites are eaten in silence, with consideration. It’s very good. The soy sauce is a little different though, more like . . .

“Coco aminos, instead of soy, right?”

“Wow,” Michael looks like I just caught him selling me a counterfeit Rolex, “Is it ok?”

“Oh, it’s great! I actually prefer it. I mean, tradition is great and all, but the bit of sweet and slightly less salty really works for me. It’s what I use at home. Plus, soy is not the greatest thing for people to eat.”

This leads into a whole conversation full of phrases like ‘flavor profile’, ‘mouth feel’, and every other culinary description imaginable. There are sidebars about the quality of cutlery, and the infinite joys of a very sharp knife. Also, different ratios of this to that, and how personal preference creates different styles within a single style of, well, anything really.

“Thanks,” says Michael, after we have made a pretty good dent in his amazing sampler of salmon, “It’s really good to have someone to talk to about this stuff who gets it. All of the other chefs have their own thing, and their specialties are all a little more widely accepted. That’s actually one of the reasons I got into sushi at first. No one was doing it. Then I just really got into the challenge of honing the technique, and learning about the condiments, and the dishes, and the knives, and just everything! I find it very absorbing. And it’s so nice to just eat with chopsticks with someone and have it feel NORMAL. I mean, some of the guys will try, but even most of the ones who are into the fish will eventually give up and just eat with their fingers. It’s just such a different skill that most people here just don’t have the interest to learn.”

“Yeah, it’s a lot like that where I’m from, too. Don’t worry about it.”

“Really? That makes me feel a little bit better.”

“Hey, keep at it. I’m no expert or anything, but I think you’re doing very good. It’ll take time, but more people will come around.”

“You think so? That’d be nice…”

“I’d bet on it.”

“Oh, and speaking of people who will be coming around, who you really need to talk to about Trina is Beth.”

“Yeah? She did say ‘Bethy’ told her some things about me.”

“That explains a lot then. Any idea what she…? On second thought, I don’t really want to know. Word to the wise, it’s Bethany, or Beth if she thinks you’re ok. Trina is the only one who gets away with Bethy, they’ve been close since they were real little. There’re a lot of friendships like that here, of course, but that one is, something else. I feel kinda bad for Beth, I mean, she ends up being kind of a shield between Trina and the rest of us a lot of the time, but on the other hand, Trina is a fierce friend, and will always stick by Beth no matter what.You better watch out, if that woman decides she likes you, you’ll never get rid of her. Which is, not necessarily bad I mean, but… you know.”

“It’ll have a big effect on how other folks interact with me, and my whole experience here in general. Yeah, that’s coming into focus. I’m afraid I may be boned on that stroke already, but I don’t really want to piss her off.”

“No, you do not. But, if you’re gonna, it’s better to get it over with, and everyone will understand. If you drag it out and Beth thinks you’re trying to play a game on her best friend, well, I’ve seen those two go in against people before, it’s bad. So, you know, try to be nice, and proceed with caution.”

“Well, fuck. Thanks for lettin’ me know what I stepped in. Shit! It’s my second day here and I’m already walking a tightrope over a minefield,” I smile hopelessly and sigh at the ceiling, “I should expect nothing else from my life.” I chuckle with resignation.

“You’ve really got a way of putting things,” Michael smiles and shakes his head at the table, then raises his eyes to mine, “I can kinda see why Trina likes you, even if she is playin’ an angle.”

“Oh, good. So I’m fucked. But on the bright side, I got a really solid sushi connection, so I guess it balances out.”

Michael just laughs. It’s late now, and we’re both feeling it. So I consolidate the bit of sushi that’s left onto a single plate and stick it in the fridge with some of the wasabi and coco aminos. Breakfast of champions, right? Michael and I smile and shake hands and say good night. After he heads out, I stop on my way to the bed with a thought, turn back around, and lock the door. The room seems to sense my fatigue, and the lights dim of their own accord. Man, that’s really something, I’m gonna have to look into this lighting situation at some point. As I sit on the edge of the bed I feel like all the white in here is starting to grate on me a little bit. I think how nice it would be if the sheets were a deep, cool blue and lightly stroke them with the fingertips of my hand without giving it much thought. The light is very, very dim now as I slide under the sheets. In the almost dark, the room looks kind of blue now. Huh, the power of self suggestion I guess. Balancing on the precipice of sleep, swimming in the deep undercurrents of my mind, I hear a light knock from far away towards the door. Then a softly muttered oath:

“Damn!” then, “Well, Bethy wasn’t lyin’.”

I wake up reasonably refreshed in the morning and as the light rises I feel remarkably calm and peaceful. Like I’m floating gently in a great big aquarium. Then the realization comes. The room is blue. I vaguely recall thinking about blue sheets last night. The whole room is blue. Because the room emits the light, all the light in the room is blue. It’s wild! Sooo blue. I can dig it. Before I go into the bathroom for morning ablutions, I unlock the door. When whoever it’s going to be walks in while I’m in the shower, there’s going to be a whole new surprise in store for them than whatever they might reasonably be expecting. This should be entertaining.

As if on cue, I am halfway through my shower when there is a knock and then…

“Hey, Aaron, I… WHAT the HELL?” then, hearing the shower running, “I’ll just be outside ‘till you’re ready, ok? Um, we need to talk.”

When I get out of the shower there is a fresh set of clothes waiting on top of the dresser. In the blue light they all look kind of an underwater brown color. With a sense of deep curiosity I reach out and stroke the top of the dresser with my fingertips, thinking ‘white’. The room is white now. Ok, so that’s how this works, is it? Today it’s white pants with an earth brown top and some fresh socks. I get dressed and let Bethany in.

“It was blue,” she says, looking at the white again room, “wasn’t it?”

“It was blue, don’t worry.”

“So, I’m not losing my mind, but you can make the room change colors now. I’m not sure that’s much of a relief. How did you?”

“I just sort of,” I absentmindedly stroke the front of my top thinking vaguely that it would be nice if it was green and…

“Shit! How?”

“Oh,” I look down and my outfit is now a lovely, emerald green, “Oops!”

Her mouth makes a shape like she wants to say something, but the words are having a traffic jam in her head again.

“You wanted to talk to me about something?”

“Yes. I, um… oh,”

“Trina?” I suggest.

She winces and sucks air through her teeth, “Yeah, um, sorry about that. She wasn’t too bad was she? I only, well, it can be hard to be her friend, but she’s a really good friend and I, I mean, she can be a bit difficult at times but…”

“So I gather,” I lean in conspiratorially, “Don’t sweat it Bethy, I know she’s trouble, but underneath it I think she’s got a good heart, she’s just sorta fucked up. Just like me, and everybody else for that matter. I actually kinda like ‘er. But don’t tell her that,” knowing full well that she’ll tell her that, “What you can tell her is that she won’t get anywhere without she tells me what her angle is.”

“Already? Goddamn it! Just, don’t be too hard on her, ok? She’s not exactly fragile, but she’s not as thick skinned as she likes to put on,” and she looks at me with a funny, mildly suspicious kind of smile.

“Ok, and… what?”

“Its just that, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but, that other stuff you said, she said something similar about you last night. She thinks you’re fucked up and sneaky and you know more than you’re letting on, but she doesn’t think you’re gonna do anything mean with it and she kinda respects that. That’s a pretty high compliment coming from her. I think she likes you. At the very least you made an impression.”

“Would you expect anything less?”

“I… it was really blue in here wasn’t it?”

“Yes. What’s her angle on me?”

“She won’t tell me. She’s like that, a lot.”

“That figures.”

“Oh, and anytime we’re around other people, it’s Bethany, or maybe Beth if it’s an informal group. Ok? Trina is the only one who gets away with Bethy, and that’s just because she’s got a blind spot for the ‘an’, has since we were kids.”

“And you had a blind spot for the ‘Ka’. That’s why she’s Trina.”

“Smarter than you look. She’s right about that, too.”

“Uh huh,” I smile.

She seems suddenly very conscious of herself, “Well, I’ll let you get on with your morning. I just wanted to make sure we didn’t have any, misunderstandings.”

“Oh, I think we understand about as much as we’re able.”

“Al should be by in a while. I think he’s formulating a plan. In the meantime, I need to get to it.”

“Have a good one, Bethany”

“Thanks,” she smiles, and departs.

When she’s gone I have leftover salmon for breakfast and wonder if this is all just one really intense acid flashback.

A little while later Al comes in and looks mildly startled at me. I reassure myself that I have not made the room blue again while I wasn’t looking, and then remember my green outfit. I briefly consider changing it to something else and then decide that the best move is probably just to leave it for now.

“Ah,” says Al, apparently coming to the same conclusion, “We’ll just leave that for now,” he says, half to himself, then, “I’d like you to give me a hand with something, if you’re agreeable.”

“Sure, why not? Always up for a new adventure. Watcha’ got, Doc?”

“Come with me,” and he leads me far down the hall, near to what appears to be the end, which is still a fair way off.

It occurs to me that there must be a fair number of people in here, and yet this area is very sparsely populated. I must be a long way from where the real action is. On the outskirts, as it were. Which, as I think about it, makes sense.

We stop and Al gestures to the wall, “There is something very odd going on in this lab here. Though they won’t say so, I believe the research group requested it specifically to be away from prying eyes. It’s quite a commute for them. And they’re all being very tight lipped about what they’re doing.”

“So you want me to help you find out what they’re up to in there? Is the door locked, or what?”

“Oh, no. I’m sure I could just barge in there and demand to know what’s going on. But that would be rather rude, I think. No, what I would really like to do is make an impression. Do you think you can help me with that?”

“I don’t know, let’s see,” I stroke the wall and it’s a window. Good start I guess. Inside the lab, which is at least four times the size of my quarters, probably more, are five people in white lab suits, and a maze of tables crammed with the most amazing and vast assortment of glass I’ve ever seen. It’s some real mad scientist shit going on in there. There’s burners and bubbling and adjusting of valves, and condensing and dripping and exotic looking fluids being transported through a mysterious web of glass piping that might have been designed with a spirograph. It’s very impressive.

A thin girl with long, dark hair and glasses looks up and sees me and freezes like a deer in headlights. A tall, red headed soda straw of a man is speaking to her with his back to me. I wonder what he’s saying. I reach out and poke the wall with a finger and the sound comes on. I flinch. That was unexpected.

“… at’s wrong with you? You look awfully strange.”

At this point, the others in the room turn to look at him, end up seeing me, and adopt similar expressions. He begins registering each of their faces, and as one slowly raises an arm to point at me, whirls around and stops. His face a confused jumble of anger, surprise, and befuddlement.

“What the! WHO the FUCK are YOU?”

It is at this point that I notice Al has slipped off against the wall where he can’t be seen, and is laughing his ass off. Oh, it’s that kinda party, huh? Not one to waste the moment, I square up, raise my right hand towards the ceiling, and speak in my best boomy voice:

“I am the great and powerful Oz! Come down from my Emerald City to gaze upon the futility of your mere mortal lives for my entertainment! Dazzle me with your abilities and I shall be benevolent! Disappoint me and I shall be malevolent! Begin!” and I clap my hands loudly.

Five tiny voices chorus, ”What the fuuuuuck?”

I hold up a finger and say brightly, “Just excuse me for one moment. Won’t you?” and slip off to the side, out of sight, where Al is genuinely rolling around on the floor, convulsing with silent laughter. “How was that?” I ask, whilst dragging him up onto his feet.

“Exceptional,” he answers with a smile as I guide him back in front of the window, my arm around his shoulders.

“So, Todd,” says Al to the red headed bean pole, “What exactly are you kids up to in there?”

“Uncle Al?” replies a very uncertain looking Todd, “Currently, being very confused, it would appear. Perhaps you would care to come in and I'll explain the situation.”

“Ah!” says Uncle Al, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Todd opens the door, and as we move to enter he looks to the window, and then to me, and says, “Do you think you could possibly?”

“Mmm,” I say, catching his meaning, and turn the window back to wall.

“So,” says Al once we are inside, “What’s all this then?”

Thus begins a long and somewhat convoluted explanation from Todd, who delivers it rather sheepishly. It appears that Todd ran across a dusty old tome on alchemy, and became fascinated with the idea of transmogrification of lead into gold. After further research and calculation convinced him that it might actually be possible, if infinitely impractical, he recruited his merry band and they staked a claim on this unused, out of the way lab to try their hand at it for shits and giggles. Apparently there have been some promising developments, but so far, nothing in the way of actual success.

As Todd and his friends are explaining, and in some cases, preemptively defending their position to Uncle Al, producing figures and calculations to back up their hypotheses, I am walking around marveling at all the glass doodads and thingamajigs, most of which make very little sense to me. I do recognize a fractionating column though. Hmm, one of those would be nice to have use of if I’m going to be here for a while. I may have to look into that at some point. As I come along the end of the last table I have a look at what appear to be the final three steps in the process. It runs from a flask over a burner, through a chemical rinse, and into an ice bath. For some reason this stands out to me as being not right. I can’t really explain why.

“Hey Todd,” I say across the room, and suddenly it’s all silence and stares as everybody turns to look at the mysterious green phantom lurking momentarily forgotten in their midst, “This is the end of your process right? I think you need to switch the hot and the cold around.”

“But that can’t possibly work,” he looks incredulous, “It needs the cold to condense.”

Al gives me a curious look, then turns to Todd and puts a hand on his shoulder, “Just try it. You’ve already admitted you’ve been refining the process continuously without realizing success. What have you got to lose?”

“Alright,” Todd sighs under his uncle’s gaze, “It won’t take long to switch it back once this doesn’t work.” And starts about shutting valves and disconnecting fittings to swap things around.

After everything has been rearranged, it takes a few minutes for the process to get rolling again. Everyone, especially Al, is watching carefully with intense interest, except for Todd who is standing there impatiently, doing everything short of tapping his foot in that annoyed way people sometimes do. After about ten minutes he does start tapping. After about fifteen he can’t stand it any longer…

“Ok,” he starts, “Can we…?”

“Wait,” cuts in Al, “Look,” and he points to the bottom of the heated flask, where a very light coating of very fine, white powder is beginning to form.

“Huh?” says Todd, “What the hell is that?”

“I’d say it’s a result,” I answer, “Now, whether it’s the one you’re looking for remains to be seen, but it kinda looks like it might be. I mean, at least it’s a change from what you’ve had so far. Right?”

“How did you know?” he asks, bewildered.

“I don’t know,” I answer, “I really didn’t. It just looked wrong. Now that I see it working, I’d say that you had the cold to condense part right, you were just missing the heat to make it precipitate out. I know it’s maybe counterintuitive, but,” I point to the thickening coating on the bottom of the flask, “Result.”

“If that’s… and from everything else we know it’s… then… how? Fuck me, why didn’t I think of that?” I can see the gears spinning madly in Todds mind, “It’s right, it has to be, but,” he turns and really looks at me, “Who the fuck are you?” he asks, this time with a tinge of awe.

Al chuckles.

I roll my eyes at the ceiling and sigh, “Ahh, again?” then I smile and hold out my hand to shake, “Hi, I’m Aaron. Pleased ta meetcha’.”

There are introductions all around and loads of questions and answers and damn, I need a drink.

“Hey Al,” I say, “Now that I’ve proven my worth by spinning straw into gold, how about giving me a tour of this place? Maybe we can start with this dusty room of brandy and cigars I’ve heard about.”

Al turns to me with a raised eyebrow, dips into a low bow and says in reverent tones, “Oh, great and powerful Oz! Thank you for blessing us mere mortals with your benevolence, and keeping your malevolence to yourself! Your humble wish is my command.”

Look at the sense of humor on this guy! I wonder if he was like this before I turned up? I just smile and give him a round of applause as the others look on. Some with smiles of their own, others with looks of confusion.

“Come along,” says Al, leading the way out another door in the back of the lab, "Might as well get this out of the way. After that performance, everybody in here will have heard about you in a day or two. It’s just as well to let them get a look at you before they start trying to seek you out.”

“That’s a very pragmatic view,” I reply, as Al leads us along a series of smaller hallways. Todd and the dark haired girl, I think her name is Christi, have decided to tag along. I think they may be an item, but it’s too soon for me to be sure. The others elected to stay back in the lab and test the results to see exactly what they have resulted in. “So, how many people are in this place anyway?”

“Right around three thousand,” says Al matter of factly, “What with births and deaths, there’s always a bit of a flux, but since we have very few people coming or going, it tends to remain relatively constant. Though, since births tend to come in waves, statistically speaking, there is occasionally a significant difference in the number of us of productive, working age.”

“Wow! Ok, so this place is a lot bigger than I was expecting.”

“I can see how you would think that. You’ve only seen the tiniest speck of what we have here. But that’s all about to change now.”