X-Files Fanfic 14: CSM at SBUX (Dance of the Puppets)

X-Files Fanfic Challenge 14: CSM at SBUX
Concept: CSM goes to Starbucks
Word Count: Under 1000 words

Title: Dance of the Puppets

He drove along the highway, watching for a truck stop, or cafe, or diner.

Anywhere to stop for a restroom and some fresh coffee.

Maybe a bite to eat. A highway sign told him that a gas station was coming up.

He didn’t want gas station coffee, but he did need to refuel.He pulled off and refilled his tank at the pump, reminiscing the days of full-service.

Of course, as much time as he had spent on the road, self-service was the only option at truck stops at night.

He’d spent a lot of time at truck stops, and their unique brand of diner.

He’d even gotten to like the type of food a person could usually find there. The pump clicked off, and he looked inside the station’s glass windows at the young man perched on his stool behind the counter, reading a magazine.

Past him, on the other side of the building, was the green light from a round sign.

A Starbuck’s sign. He didn’t consider for long.

He pulled his car around to the coffee shop lot and parked.

He checked the time - 6:25.

They were open.He went inside, walking slowly and stretching his legs.

The scent of coffee after a night spent on the open road was almost overwhelming.

He stood back to consider the specialty coffees on the menu.

A man and woman came in the door behind him, and he listened to them bickering over how poorly he had parked the car.

Suddenly he became aware that the man was addressing him, “I said excuse me. Are you in line?” That tone made him cringe. No one spoke to him that way.

He waited as long as politely possible before answering, “No, I am not in line.”

He watched the man and woman brush past him, still bickering.

He thought about when he used to be married to Cassie.

When they had gotten up this early, for a vacation, there had been no bickering, arguing, and blaming.

She’d had coffee ready in a thermos for them, and she’d usually fallen asleep in the car while he drove. He looked around.

Three more people had arrived while he’d been studying the menu and thinking about Cassie.

She’s always been able to distract him at the worst times.

He stepped into line and listened to the woman in front of him order a soy sugar-free vanilla latte.

He thought back to a time, long ago, when they were testing mind control drugs.

Nutrasweet had been released to the market to test the adoption rates of a chemical known to be artificial.

Occasional leaks of studies telling the substance’s side effects had done little to reduce its consumption, and the viability of mind control drugs was affirmed.

People would continue to use them, as long as there was a presumed benefit to their vanity.

Or their laziness. He stepped up to the counter and ordered a large café au lait.

The barista, identified as Alex by his name badge, scribbled an M on a paper cup, then asked for his name.

He hesitated only for a moment, “Steve.”

“Great, Steve. When Melissa calls out your café au lait at the bar, she’ll call it a misto - that’s our corporate term. Is there anything else?”

His eyes slid across the pastry selection, “I’d like a cheese danish, please.”

“No problem, Steve. Anything else?”

“No, thank you.” He paid with cash, and stepped back from the counter.

He glanced at the line of paper cups behind the counter, spied his at the back of the line, and decided he had time to use the restroom.

He emerged to hear someone bleating, “Someone left their pastry at the bar! Someone!”

He stood to the side of the door, watching the middle-aged man who seemed to be inordinately worried about that unclaimed cheese danish.

He smiled ever so slightly in bemusement as the man’s eyes traveled wildly over the line of people waiting for coffee.

The man asked a few people if they owned the pastry, or knew who the pastry belonged to.

Finally, he walked to the counter. The man spoke in a desperate tone, “Do you know whose pastry this is?”

“It’s mine,” he answered simply, and picked up the bag.

He sat at one of the tiny tables to wait for his coffee. He usually didn’t patronize the Starbucks name, but he could see why people came here.

There was a ritual dance in the way people moved through, and the sound of the coffee machines was entrancing.

He decided to come back to people-watch more often. His coffee came up at the bar, and he took it back to his table.

He checked his watch, and decided he had a few more minutes to eat his pastry before he had to get on the road.

A few more minutes to watch the puppets dance.

Step 1. Serve
Step 2. Resist from Within