Naomi and the Horse-Flavored T-Shirt by Dan Boehl
Chapter 23: De-Pastification
Clara led them to a set of stairs. “We’re about to enter de-Pastification. You’re going to see people up here in the process of returning to normal.”
There was a small door on a landing at the top of the stairs. Clara knocked on the door. “We have to keep these people safe until they’re ready to join Gypsy Grove. Some will never leave this ward.”
“Why are they here?” Naomi asked. Just as she got the question out, a woman opened the door. She had dark skin and dark hair wrapped in a scarf. Like Clara, she wore all brown.
Clara said, “Tonya, this is Naomi, and this is Sammy. They need de-Pastification.”
“Welcome,” said Tonya.
They went into a small office scattered with papers. “They're the two we’ve been hearing about,” said Tonya.
“They are,” Clara answered.
“How did you take out the turbine?” Tonya asked.
“Sammy dropped a loaf of paste in it,” Naomi said.
“Paste!” Tonya laughed. “Isn’t that the definition of irony? Where’d you drop it?”
“Through the top,” Sammy said. “Where the hole was. The bridge almost fell out of the ceiling.”
“It was covered in white people,” Naomi said.
“I thought I was going to die!” Sammy said.
“It looked like lightening!” Naomi said. “I was blinded!”
“We fried it!” Sammy said.
“It smelled like burnt paste!” Naomi said.
Tonya said, “Nice to have a little excitement around here. Because of the turbine shutdown, we were able to collect Pastification victims from other areas, and one of our units rescued victims directly from the Pastification Level Two rooms near Manufacturing.”
“Tonya runs the de-Pastification ward,” Clara said. “She’s working on your friend Paster.”
“I was de-Pastified,” Tonya admitted, though to Naomi she looked about the furthest thing imaginable from a white person.
“What happened?” Naomi asked.
“I was ten or twelve years old. I don’t remember. The factory wasn’t what it is today, and Gypsy Grove wasn’t either. Pastification wasn’t formulated as powerfully as it is now, so it was easier to shake the addiction.”
“What’s addiction?” Naomi asked.
“It’s when your body craves something,” said Tonya. “The paste factory puts things in paste that makes people want to eat it. Soon you aren’t the same person. You’ll do anything to get paste. You forget who your friends are, forget your family. Paste takes over your life.”
“That’s horrible,” said Naomi.
“It’s bad,” Tonya admitted. “But we’re here to help those who want it.”
“We infiltrate the factory and look for anti-paste behavior,” Clara said. “We bring those people here for de-Pastification.”
“Why don’t you just take everybody?” Sammy asked. “It seems dumb to crawl around looking for people when you could just take as many as you can.”
Tonya said, “The paste addiction is very strong in ordinary people. I won’t say they are happy with their lives, but they don’t have any desire to break their addiction. As long as there’s paste, most white people are going to want it. So, we help those we think want help.”
“They all look the same to me,” admitted Sammy. Naomi sort of agreed, but when she thought about those people in the room waiting to be put in the Pastification chamber, she remembered they had seemed different, less pasty. As a matter of fact, Paster hardly seemed pasty at all.
“You’d be surprised,” said Clara. “We find people who look like all the others at first, but, spending just a small amount of time observing them, we realize they’re totally different. Some of the un-pasty just seem like they can’t stand working. They talk to others. They organize and make work better. The factory doesn’t want that kind of person, so people like them get Pastification Four.”
“Others are the creative kinds who’re doing something else while they’re supposed to be working,” Tonya added.
“Like drawing,” said Naomi.
“Exactly,” said Tonya. “Drawing, writing. The easiest ones to spot are the ones dancing. The dancers usually respond really well to de-Pastification.”
“And the singers,” said Clara.
“How come the townspeople don’t turn into white people?” Naomi asked.
“The white people get higher levels of Pastification with higher levels of addictive paste. I was only a kid when I was pulled out of the paste factory. It didn’t take me long to shake the Pastification because they were using a weaker formula.”
“Where’re your parents?” Sammy asked.
“I don’t know,” Tonya said. “I can’t remember who they are or what they look like. Pastification blurred everything.”
“You think they’re in the factory?” Naomi asked.
It was Clara’s turn to answer. “If they were in there,” she said, “we’d know it. If we can identify family members, we de-Pastify them too. But people are different, and sometimes it’s too dangerous to rescue them. It’s sad,” Clara said, “but sometimes it just doesn’t work out.”
“That’s not fair,” Naomi said. If she knew her father was in the paste factory, she’d rescue him.
“Things aren’t always fair,” Tonya said. “Especially when dealing with the paste company. They will buy and trade the lives of ordinary people in order to make a profit.”
“How’d it get like that?” Sammy asked.
Tonya said, “I don’t think the office workers realize they are hurting people. Or they tell themselves it’s the paste company hurting people, and they can’t do much about it; they need to work. And then, somewhere at the top someone only cares about money. Profit becomes more important than people’s lives.”
“If people didn’t do what the paste factory wanted,” asked Sammy, “what else would they do?”
Tanya said, “You as a farmer probably know the alternative.”
“You mean, farm?” said Sammy.
“Yeah, something different.”
“But we can’t farm,” he said. “The factory made that impossible.”
“That’s true,” said Tonya. “I think there’re always going to be people trying to profit from misery. And companies will pay good people to do bad things. There are always going to be these companies, but we don’t have to work for them.”
Clara said, “We’re going to stop the paste company. The work is slow because they have all the money, all the horses, the Pastery, but eventually people will demand something different.”
“How can that happen?” Naomi said. “How can anything change when the people are in the pocket of the paste company?”
“My head hurts,” said Sammy. He stumbled and nearly fell, but Tonya caught him.
Tonya said, “This will wait. Right now you need de-Pastification.”
Tonya unlocked a door in a hallway lit by a row of lamps.
“It’s sad in here,” Naomi said.
Tonya said, “There’re windows in the rooms.” She turned the doorknob and opened the door. Naomi stuck her head in. The room was small, but comfortable. There was a small wooden bed with a patched quilt on it. Above the bed, a big window looked down, flooding the room with light. Tonya said, “This will be Paster’s room once he gets finished with tonight’s de-Pastification. Paster can go right from the factory to his own room. Others aren’t so lucky.”
Tonya closed the door. Clara had her arm wrapped around Sammy now.
Naomi started to get worried. “Is Sammy going to be okay?”
“Don’t worry,” said Tonya. “We’ll be there in a minute. He’ll perk up once we get started.”
“I’m okay,” Sammy said, like he was talking in his sleep.
They turned and passed two sets of swinging double doors with windows. Tonya said, “These are the men’s and women’s wards. For people we need to watch closely.” Naomi
“How many are here?” Naomi asked.
“Right now, about a hundred in the wards,” said Tonya. “There’s a place where some have to be kept away from others while they recover.”
“Oh,” said Naomi. She thought that it must be hard to escape the paste factory and then not be able to be around other people.
Tonya went through doors at the corridor’s end. Naomi followed, with Sammy behind, propped by Clara.
A wonderful smell hit Naomi. Her stomach growled and she thought she was going to drool. There were rectangular tables all over the room where people sat, eating out of bowls.
Naomi bolted to the nearest table. A man sat by himself. Naomi slurred, “What’s that?” Without an answer, she bent over the bowl to smell it. Hot steam rose into her face. She closed her eyes and inhaled. It was like smelling an orchid for the first time, or drinking water from a winter stream.
She felt a hand on her shoulder, and Tonya’s voice said, “Come and sit down.”
All the people in the room were looking at her. Some had dark skin, some had light skin, and others had a pasty white complexion. Naomi felt her face go hot with embarrassment. She grabbed Tonya’s arm like a shy child, and Tonya walked her to one of the tables.
“Here,” said Tonya, pulling out a chair. “Have a seat.”
Naomi sat. Clara put Sammy in the chair next her. Tonya shouted, “Anthony, two!”
A man stuck his head out of a rectangular hole cut in the wall. “Two coming,” he yelled back.
“A cafeteria,” Naomi said. It looked a lot like the one at school.
Tonya left with a smile. Naomi looked across the table.
“Paster!” she shouted.
“Naomi,” he said. “I’m a… eating.” He raised his spoon to show her. He dipped it into the bowl, slopping liquid all over the table. A man walked over, stood behind him, and helped guide Paster’s hand to his mouth.
“There you go,” said the man.
Paster sipped from the spoon.
“Like this,” said the man. He took the spoon from Paster, and like a sculptor bent Paster’s fingers so he held it correctly in his hand. Then the man showed him how to dip the spoon so he wouldn’t get food all over the place. Paster raised the full spoon to his lips.
Naomi said, “He doesn’t know how to use a spoon?”
Clara shook her head. “White people eat with tubes. Video screens tell them what to do in the morning. You saw their bathroom.” Naomi shivered at the thought of those tubes, like mosquito tongues. Clara continued, “The people we rescue from Pastification are ready to leave, though. They don’t want to be in the paste factory, and that tells us a little bit about who they are.”
Clara patted Paster on one hand while he worked the spoon with the other. He smiled. Clara said, “They’re the kind of people that can’t stand being told what to do. The screens told them what to eat. Once the screens are gone, it gets easier. Like I said, we used to send people back, but under Tonya, we’ve gotten better at getting people we know have a shot of living normal lives.”
“Where’s Paster’s sister?” said Naomi.
Clara said, “Priscilla. She’s in the women’s ward. She needs rest.”
Tonya arrived with two bowls on a tray. She set one in front of Sammy, whose face was droopy and eyes, shut. When the bowl hit the table, he perked up. “Be careful,” Tonya said, “it’s hot.” But Sammy didn’t care. He lifted the bowl, tipped it to his lips, and drank. Liquid swished over the side, splashing the front of his jumpsuit. His eyes got wide and he just gulp, gulp, gulp, gulped until all the soup was gone. He set the bowl in a puddle.
Clara said, “I’ll get more.”
Tonya set Naomi’s bowl in front of her. Her mouth watered. When the spoon hit her lips, she was hit with a flavor storm. Salty, sweet, a little sour, but not at all bitter. Nothing like paste. It was the complete opposite of paste.
She asked, “What is it?” The liquid bubbled from her mouth, splashing down her front. “Sorry,” she said.
Tonya just laughed. “I’ve seen worse. The rescued have no table manners.”
Naomi ate and ate. Clara returned with another bowl. She put it in front of Sammy. He lifted it with both hands and started drinking. This time he was careful not to splash it down his front. Naomi kept shoveling the stuff into her mouth. In no time she saw the bottom of the bowl.
“You want some more?” asked Clara.
“Yes, please,” Naomi answered.
Clara left again. Naomi asked Tonya again, “What is it?”
“It’s vegetable stew. It’s full of carrots, celery, potatoes, leeks, and some kale for good measure.”
“It’s awesome,” said Naomi. Sammy set his bowl down. His eyes were sleepy, but he smiled. He pushed the bowl out of the way, crossed his arms in front of him, set his head down, and shut his eyes.
Clara was back. Naomi spooned the stew. “Try this,” Clara said, holding something white.
“Paste?” Naomi asked between mouthfuls.
“It’s bread,” Clara said.
“Bread,” said Naomi. She took it. The bread was warm and lighter than paste. She jammed it in her mouth and started chewing. Clara and Tonya watched her as she worked her jaw. She caught herself scarfing, and slowed her chewing. She didn’t know what was happening to her. It was like she had never eaten before in her life. She swallowed. Absolute heaven. Better than the best paste ever. Better than the Paste of India.