"It's nice to meet you, Judd. Welcome to Bountiful Bluffs. My name is Matthew, obviously," Matthew indicated his circular name-tag attached above the breast pocket of his white chef's coat by way of a pin, a part of every worker's uniform at Bountiful Bluffs. "You can call me Matt. If you need help, ask." Matthew extended his hand. Judd met it with his own.
"Thanks," Judd said. "Appreciate it. Right now I'm just doing my best to take it all in." His response satisfied Matthew who nodded, turned and walked towards a workstation. Judd followed him.
They were just two more men among countless other men and women who buzzed around behind the counters of an enormous room . The room was officially called the "Healthful Hub". It was shaped somewhat like a rectangle, one-hundred or so meters long, twenty-five or so meters deep, except that each of the lengthier walls were curved in natural correspondence to the ship's cylindrical structure. Paralleling the inner wall were the counters, the workstations and in the wall itself was the occasional doorway that led to the back-of-house: dish-rooms, drystorage/coldstorage indicated by makeshift signs; one employee's creative approach as well as waste management. Even deeper in the back were elevators designated for the receiving of "junk", where workers wore blue overalls for uniforms and used forklifts and pallet jacks to bring the shipments in.
The outside wall was made of a long frameless window. Paradise could be seen. A beautiful planet resembling Earth and, from Judd's perspective, took up over two-thirds the heighth of the window's frame.
The Healthful Hub acted as a market where the "guests" of Bountiful Bluffs could purchase anything from a meal to medicine. The room was subdivided to make navigating the large selection of goods more orderly and predictable. On the one end was a section dedicated to the pharmacy. Next to the pharmacy was a grocery. The other half of the room was dedicated to "R&R" where an assortment of tables were set for diners, a string of lounge chairs were set directly in front of the window (a few of the guests were on their tablets and an unattended child voraciously threw a signed baseball against the giant window.
Judd was taking it all in. It was his first day on the job and while the Healthful Hub wasn't what he would call busy, the sound of the workers working, the patrons gabbing and the intermittent thud of the boy's baseball being thrown filled the room with a really dull sense of activity. Matthew stood idle in front of an oven as tall as him, six feet, and stared into it waiting for the timer to go off. The timer read eight minutes.
Matthew held his hands calmly, clasped at his waist in a manner that his fingers were interlocked and his thumbs came together to make an oval. They bore an assortment of scars including a fresh burn, wrapping around the outside of his palm like a sliver of red moon on his right hand. He was missing the ring finger of his left. His hands looked out of place resting against the clean black breeches. Then again, Matthew wore a look on his long face that he was out of place. He absently glew orange on the prominent bones of his cheeks, on the tip of his hawk nose, on the bones of his double chin. And, from his tight, thin lipped mouth, Judd got the impression that Matthew had become laconic, lost in thought after so many years in.
The buzzer chimed and immediately Matthew went into action. He pulled his protective gloves tight up to his elbows and opened the tall oven doors. Judd, who was standing several feet behind and off to the side of Matthew felt the heat immediately. He felt it most at the tips of his ears, as if they were being sunburned, and in the sockets of his eyes, as if they were melting. Matthew looked at Judd and walked a step into the furnace, lowering his head as he entered. Judd heard a few clicks of metal from inside, where Matthew, now blocked from Judd's view due to the door being opened, unlatched a rack and rolled it out. Matthew took a remarkable amount of time as he pulled, stepping one foot carefully back after the other. Holding what turned out to be the heavy rack out and Judd watched with nervous anxiety as he witnessed his up and coming job to be.
"And," Matthew said while rubbing the sweat from his brow with one mitted hand and closing the oven doors with the other, "that's it." Matthew had positioned the hot rack against a metal table which afforded enough room for two people to work side by side. "The guys from the back load up the rack's shelves," he indicated the rack's contents: a series of three sheet pans, eight feet deep and five feet wide, staggered with just enough room so that three pigs--a red apple in each of their mouths--bunk comfortably. "And we pull the rack out. Try your best to not mess-up the garnish. Prepare the items as quickly as possible. When the rack is empty we put it back in and they," he snapped his finger, "fill it up again. I'll show you how to work the oven tomorrow. Today, let's just focus on preparing the items."
"First," Matthew started, "you need a pair of hot-mitts. Ian issue those to you?"
"Nope. They set me up in my quarters, showed me my uniform retrieval bin, told me to get dressed and take the "team" elevator to this floor. I don't even know who--"
"Well, well, well, would you look at this! We've got us some fresh meat over here!" Surprising Judd, the borderline shouting came from behind.
"Speak of the fucking devil," Matthew muttered under his breath.
"Welcome to Bountiful Bluffs, the best job you'll ever get!" Judd turned to see a slightly heavyset man who wore the same uniform as them except for the color, blue and gray. Ian was also without his beret. He had a kempt tuff in the center of his male-pattern baldness on "high" display instead. His nametag read "Ian". "What is your name kid?" He asked, neglecting to look at Judd's own pin. "No wait, is it..." He took a moment to grace in prowess and smiled perfect teeth.
"I'm Judd... I needed to get some hot-mitts from you."
"Of course you just started! Well, who do you think I was referring to, these swine? No, kid. You're the meat." Ian glanced at Matthew for a moment, looked him up and down, and then took a step forward towards Judd who, looking into Ian's merciless glare and his stupidly furrowed brow, shuddered. "I've got some paperwork for you to fill out. Right away!" Ian snapped out a digital clipboard and handed it over to Judd. "Go on. Take it!" He said without a moment's hesitation. Judd took the clipboard. "Come find, me as soon as you're done," Ian said, abruptly turned and walked away.
"...The fuck was that?" Judd asked Matthew as soon as Ian was out of earshot.
"Ian."
"Ian who, or what? And what about the hot-mitts? He didn't seem to hear a word I said."
"Don't worry about the mitts. I'll track some down for you. For the time being, go ahead and fill out the forms. I'll take care of the pig."
"Thanks," Judd said. "Appreciate it. Right now I'm just doing my best to take it all in." His response satisfied Matthew who nodded, turned and walked towards a workstation. Judd followed him.
They were just two more men among countless other men and women who buzzed around behind the counters of an enormous room . The room was officially called the "Healthful Hub". It was shaped somewhat like a rectangle, one-hundred or so meters long, twenty-five or so meters deep, except that each of the lengthier walls were curved in natural correspondence to the ship's cylindrical structure. Paralleling the inner wall were the counters, the workstations and in the wall itself was the occasional doorway that led to the back-of-house: dish-rooms, drystorage/coldstorage indicated by makeshift signs; one employee's creative approach as well as waste management. Even deeper in the back were elevators designated for the receiving of "junk", where workers wore blue overalls for uniforms and used forklifts and pallet jacks to bring the shipments in.
The outside wall was made of a long frameless window. Paradise could be seen. A beautiful planet resembling Earth and, from Judd's perspective, took up over two-thirds the heighth of the window's frame.
The Healthful Hub acted as a market where the "guests" of Bountiful Bluffs could purchase anything from a meal to medicine. The room was subdivided to make navigating the large selection of goods more orderly and predictable. On the one end was a section dedicated to the pharmacy. Next to the pharmacy was a grocery. The other half of the room was dedicated to "R&R" where an assortment of tables were set for diners, a string of lounge chairs were set directly in front of the window (a few of the guests were on their tablets and an unattended child voraciously threw a signed baseball against the giant window.
Judd was taking it all in. It was his first day on the job and while the Healthful Hub wasn't what he would call busy, the sound of the workers working, the patrons gabbing and the intermittent thud of the boy's baseball being thrown filled the room with a really dull sense of activity. Matthew stood idle in front of an oven as tall as him, six feet, and stared into it waiting for the timer to go off. The timer read eight minutes.
Matthew held his hands calmly, clasped at his waist in a manner that his fingers were interlocked and his thumbs came together to make an oval. They bore an assortment of scars including a fresh burn, wrapping around the outside of his palm like a sliver of red moon on his right hand. He was missing the ring finger of his left. His hands looked out of place resting against the clean black breeches. Then again, Matthew wore a look on his long face that he was out of place. He absently glew orange on the prominent bones of his cheeks, on the tip of his hawk nose, on the bones of his double chin. And, from his tight, thin lipped mouth, Judd got the impression that Matthew had become laconic, lost in thought after so many years in.
The buzzer chimed and immediately Matthew went into action. He pulled his protective gloves tight up to his elbows and opened the tall oven doors. Judd, who was standing several feet behind and off to the side of Matthew felt the heat immediately. He felt it most at the tips of his ears, as if they were being sunburned, and in the sockets of his eyes, as if they were melting. Matthew looked at Judd and walked a step into the furnace, lowering his head as he entered. Judd heard a few clicks of metal from inside, where Matthew, now blocked from Judd's view due to the door being opened, unlatched a rack and rolled it out. Matthew took a remarkable amount of time as he pulled, stepping one foot carefully back after the other. Holding what turned out to be the heavy rack out and Judd watched with nervous anxiety as he witnessed his up and coming job to be.
"And," Matthew said while rubbing the sweat from his brow with one mitted hand and closing the oven doors with the other, "that's it." Matthew had positioned the hot rack against a metal table which afforded enough room for two people to work side by side. "The guys from the back load up the rack's shelves," he indicated the rack's contents: a series of three sheet pans, eight feet deep and five feet wide, staggered with just enough room so that three pigs--a red apple in each of their mouths--bunk comfortably. "And we pull the rack out. Try your best to not mess-up the garnish. Prepare the items as quickly as possible. When the rack is empty we put it back in and they," he snapped his finger, "fill it up again. I'll show you how to work the oven tomorrow. Today, let's just focus on preparing the items."
"First," Matthew started, "you need a pair of hot-mitts. Ian issue those to you?"
"Nope. They set me up in my quarters, showed me my uniform retrieval bin, told me to get dressed and take the "team" elevator to this floor. I don't even know who--"
"Well, well, well, would you look at this! We've got us some fresh meat over here!" Surprising Judd, the borderline shouting came from behind.
"Speak of the fucking devil," Matthew muttered under his breath.
"Welcome to Bountiful Bluffs, the best job you'll ever get!" Judd turned to see a slightly heavyset man who wore the same uniform as them except for the color, blue and gray. Ian was also without his beret. He had a kempt tuff in the center of his male-pattern baldness on "high" display instead. His nametag read "Ian". "What is your name kid?" He asked, neglecting to look at Judd's own pin. "No wait, is it..." He took a moment to grace in prowess and smiled perfect teeth.
"I'm Judd... I needed to get some hot-mitts from you."
"Of course you just started! Well, who do you think I was referring to, these swine? No, kid. You're the meat." Ian glanced at Matthew for a moment, looked him up and down, and then took a step forward towards Judd who, looking into Ian's merciless glare and his stupidly furrowed brow, shuddered. "I've got some paperwork for you to fill out. Right away!" Ian snapped out a digital clipboard and handed it over to Judd. "Go on. Take it!" He said without a moment's hesitation. Judd took the clipboard. "Come find, me as soon as you're done," Ian said, abruptly turned and walked away.
"...The fuck was that?" Judd asked Matthew as soon as Ian was out of earshot.
"Ian."
"Ian who, or what? And what about the hot-mitts? He didn't seem to hear a word I said."
"Don't worry about the mitts. I'll track some down for you. For the time being, go ahead and fill out the forms. I'll take care of the pig."