Super Meals: Part Twenty-Five

Doctor Ralph had to remain calm but move quickly. He stumbled backwards from the drive-through window, tripping over the young woman who had given him the grease-stain on his shoulder and running for the manager’s office. He thought of logging into the workstation there using his backdoor passcode to bypass the locks installed on every computer used in the fast-food chain, which prevented any web surfing, social media connections, or, honestly, any functions other than running the store management and point of sale systems.

He struggled, but couldn’t remember the reaction he’d gotten from mixing the restaurant’s synthetic syrup with their lab-cooked cheese-slices, and that bothered him. Knowing things was a large part of what defined him to himself, and forgetting the results of an experiment was like forgetting his middle name.

His feet slipped on the tiled floor, still wet from the morning mopping and more than a little grease that was as good as baked into the flooring at this point. He held onto the doorknob to the office until he got his feet under him and stabbed his PIN code into the lock, mis-typing it twice and then finally getting it right and stumbling through the door.

The “manager’s office” was a little bigger than the broom closet, and Diana was sitting at the desk with a stack of papers in front of her. She appeared to be filling out a spreadsheet by hand. When Doctor Ralph burst through the door she looked up and asked, “Yes sir? Can I help you?”

“I…need…computer…” he panted.

“Excuse me?” asked the manager.

He took a moment to gulp air into his lungs and slowed down to say, “I need to use your computer, please.”

She held her gaze on him a moment longer and he felt like she was trying to read him, which pissed him off. He wasn’t one to suffer scrutiny, he was the one who scrutinized. (It was a sad line, stolen from a popular TV show, but it made him feel cool)

Before he could snap at her, though, she said, “I’m very sorry, but our computer is offline.”

Doctor Ralph froze and said, “What?”

“I’m sorry, but our computer went down a week ago. I called the district office and put in a request for a new one, but they said it could be up to two weeks before it’s actually replaced. I’ve been doing the schedule and payroll reporting by hand ever since.”

In an instant, Doctor Ralph was enraged, but couldn’t possibly show it. Not just for the fact that he did everything he could to never show true emotion to anybody, ever, but because he had always been proud of the fast food chain’s business model regarding replacement of equipment. Namely, that it didn’t happen until or unless it was absolutely, one hundred percent necessary. He’d seen stores’ requests for maintenance go unanswered for months until everybody who knew that something was broken either quit or was fired. The new employees never even knew there was something actually wrong – they just accepted that something didn’t work and found a way around it.

He was wasting time here, now, with no working computer and no way to access his records or experiments. His tablet was back in his hotel room and he couldn’t reach it fast enough. His car…

He stopped there, thinking of the car.

The woman behind the wheel, the forgettable guy in the passenger seat, the unmarked cop car with the license plate number 3FJP24A…

He had to follow the car.

Without speaking he bolted from the manager’s office, grabbed his jacket off a hook by the door, and sprinted out to his car. He knew they were heading east from the parking lot, so he pulled into traffic as quickly as possible and accelerated well past the speed limit and scanning the horizon for the car.

Detective Mimi and Walter were headed for the wheat fields outside of town. They had stopped at the local community college to tell Walter’s boss in the maintenance department that he wouldn’t be coming to work as he was needed to aid in a police investigation, and they had given him the day off.

As they pulled out of the far parking lot, they didn’t notice Doctor Ralph’s car pulling through the intersection a block back from them.

Neither did they notice him fall into position several car lengths back from them and match their speed.

Two miles down the road they pulled into a local park and stopped in the last stall in the parking lot. Mimi had already eaten the “normal” meal that they’d ordered, much to Walter’s protests. “How come you get to eat the regular food?” he asked.

“Um, duh? You get to eat your meal when we get there,” she answered.

“But we don’t know what it’s going to do to me!”

“Correction, we don’t know if it’ll do anything to you at all. This way we get to do our little science experiment and you get breakfast. Besides, I paid for it, so I get to eat it. Shut up.”

He grumbled, but only because his stomach did the same.

When they had parked the car, Mimi snapped the bag up and got out, headed for an empty field on the edge of the park’s grounds, and Walter followed. Once they were out of sight of the parking lot, Doctor Ralph pulled into a stall of his own and exited his own vehicle.

He followed them at a distance, trying like hell to stay far enough away that they wouldn’t notice, while still keeping them in sight so he could see what happened when one of them ate that sandwich, and it was tricky. The park had several trails that wound their way around and through, following the river and bordering the grounds, and more than once he did lose sight of them. Luckily, being early morning on a weekday, there was nobody else to distract or confuse him, and he was always able to pick up their trail again.

Walter and Detective Mimi came to a stop at a shelter, where Mimi sat down on the picnic table and sipped the orange juice in one hand while holding out the bag of food in the other.

Walter looked at her and said, “What?”

She slurped the last of the orange juice, ignoring the look of irritation on Walter’s face, and said, “What are you waiting for? Eat up.”

Super Meals: Part Twenty-Four

He didn’t get much sleep, but Doctor Ralph slept well, and woke up rested.

He was disappointed in his sloppiness the previous night – it was virtually unheard of that he’d left witnesses or ever had to clean up after himself like that – but he was really rather happy that he’d successfully conducted two experiments in a single night, so he forgave himself for his oversight.

The “jalapeno fire burger” test wasn’t entirely scientific since it wasn’t directly observed, but the results were extremely observable, so he made his notes on his tablet computer and uploaded them to his private server for backup.

The true achievement of the night, though, was his discovery of the “bulletproof burger,” as he was calling it. That was a new development in his research, as he had never had those results before, and he was excited to get back to his laboratory and look into it further.

But, for now, he still had to keep up his cover, so he was going to work.

He’d already made his presence known to that SaraBecca girl at the other restaurant, so he had no doubt in his mind that she’d already called at least one or two other branches and let them know he was in town. The fast food chain encouraged store managers to become friends and share their knowledge with each other – not only was it helpful for morale, but the corporate head of human resources determined that they could lower their training budget by 6%, and corporate communications budget by another 2% by simply relying on the human nature of gossip.

It also helped that the corporate head of human resources received part of those savings in their bonus check that year.

Doctor Ralph had discovered that nobody paid attention to someone who wasn’t trying to hide, so in order to remain undetected as he traveled, he always chose to spend at least one day working in one of the restaurants. It was a good way to justify his visit, it provided him with an alibi, and, strangely enough, it made the employees absolutely love him. It was baffling, he thought, that these ordinary, plain, boring people would be so turned on by the fact that he was choosing to spend time “on the front lines,” he’d heard them say.

Personally, he enjoyed the work. He was really quite thrilled to be working for the fast food company because deep down, in places so secret he barely let himself know about it, he really wanted to be a chef. Regrettably, a strict childhood with parents who refused to believe that culinary school was a proper education, along with a hearty regimen of “No son of mine’s gonna be some fruity chef” from his father and “That’s a fine hobby, sure, but what are you going to do for a living?” from his mother, had all but killed his dreams. Now he was a scientist, something respectable, for a major corporation. He could all but hear his parents’ bragging in his head, which was the only way to hear it, really, as he’d cut them out of his life years previously.

He wasn’t even sure if they were still alive at this point.

Lost in thought, he made his way to his first rental car and drove around the small town until he saw the familiar, trademarked sign of his company and pulled into the parking lot.

He drove past the abandoned playground where the toys and structures had been torn down and replaced with picnic tables; past the row of beat up cars in the parking lot, including one particularly embarrassing car that was missing the driver’s side door (he made a mental note to get it towed as quickly as possible so it didn’t screw up the perfectly manicured aesthetic of the restaurant); and past the dumpsters and grease traps to finally park along the back row of the property, which faced a city park.

He went to the back door, which had a keypad over the lock, and punched in his personal PIN. All store managers were assigned PINs when they took over a store, and Doctor Ralph had a master override PIN that granted him access to any and every location worldwide.

When he walked inside, the manager, a tall, muscular woman with black hair and a nametag that read “Diana,” was standing over the fryer and checking on a batch of hash-brown patties.

(The hash-browns actually had no potatoes whatsoever in them – they were actually cubes of semi-permeable gelatin that were wrapped in edible plastic wrap, like a breath strip, that shrank and molded itself to the gelatin cubes inside when heated. Ultimately it looked like a hash-brown patty and even tasted like one while providing the necessary textures, but at a fraction of the cost of actual potatoes – which, considering how cheap potatoes were, was quite the achievement for Doctor Ralph to come up with)

Diana stood up when he approached and stretched out a hand to him. “Doctor Ralph,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person. I had heard you were visiting the area, I’m happy you chose to come see us at our store.”

This was not the proper conversation, thought Doctor Ralph. She is far too strong and confident to be working here. He made a mental note to either have her fired or bumped up to corporate within a year.

“It’s my pleasure,” he responded. “I always like to get some hands-on experience in the stores whenever I travel. Where can I be the most use?”

Diana handed him a headset and talk-box that was hanging on a hook nearby. “We could really use someone to take orders from the drive-thru. We’re about to hit our breakfast rush.”

Doctor Ralph checked the clock as he put the headset on and saw that it was a little after 7 am, which lined up perfectly with what the analysts back in the corporate offices had determined to be the start of the “breakfast rush.” He looked forward to telling them they were right.

He logged in with his master user ID on the point of sale and began taking orders immediately. It took him a few tries to become fluid on the touchscreen, but once he got into his rhythm it was very natural for him and he was flying through orders just as fast as they were spoken.

And then there was…the order, as he came to think of it.

There were two voices coming over the headset, which was perfectly normal. He was used to hearing multiple voices as the driver asked other occupants what they wanted to eat, but this conversation stood out to him.

The male voice, quieter, obviously in the passenger seat or back seat, said, “So, wait, you want me to order two meals?”

The second voice, stronger, louder, obviously the driver, said, “Yeah, you can have the normal meal first so if you do start levitating or something, at least you’ll do it on a full stomach.”

That was a rather odd statement, thought Doctor Ralph, but he gave the standard greeting and asked what they wanted to order, as per protocol.

The male voice said, “I dunno what to order.”

The female voice said, “Well what do you usually get?”

“Just get me the sausage biscuit meal.”

“Is that your normal meal?”

“That’s A normal meal, at least.”

“Then what’s your crazy thing?”

“Gimme a sec to think of something, just order the first thing.”

“I’m not gonna make that poor guy wait while we make two orders. Just figure something out.”

“He’s already waiting! He can probably hear everything we’re saying!”

“Then order fast!”

“Fine, get me the sausage-egg-pancake sandwich meal, but gimme the egg white patty and cheddar cheese instead of American.”

“What do you want to drink?”

“Does it matter?”

“I don’t know! Did it matter yesterday?”

“How should I know?”

The female voice sighed heavily, then said, “Fine, you’re getting orange juice.”

Doctor Ralph had heard all of this and said nothing because he was thinking about his spreadsheet. His hands, moving on their own, entered the order as it was placed, and he gave them their total before telling them to pull forward to the second window, but his head was scanning the lines of text he’d spent so many hours pouring over.

He knew that combination. Something in the “syrup” that was cooked into the “pancakes” produced a horrible reaction against the cheddar-flavored “cheese,” but the specifics were evading him now. He couldn’t remember.

When the car finally reached the window he took the cash and saw the people inside. The driver looked young, but harried – like she worked too hard and slept too little. The passenger was…boring, actually. Doctor Ralph instantly pictured a dictionary definition of “ordinary” and placed this man next to it.

There were a lot of radio components in the car, mounted under the dash, he saw, and he realized this was an undercover police car. “Good morning, officer,” he said, trying to sound cheerful. “How are you today?”

The woman smiled at him and said “Oh, fine. Just had a long night and need to refuel, you know how it is.”

Behind him, one of the regular fast food workers was slapping the bag of food on Doctor Ralph’s arm. He ignored it.

“So, uh…that was a pretty interesting order, there. I’d never heard of anybody getting that…combination before. You a fan of the egg whites and cheddar?”

The woman said “Yeah, I, ummm…”

Then the man, who Doctor Ralph had already forgotten was there, spoke up and said, “Actually that one’s for me! They say the egg whites are healthier – better for you, right? They’re all-natural, aren’t they?”

Doctor Ralph shook his head, trying to clear it enough to maintain the conversation, and said, “Huh? Oh! Yes, right, the egg whites. Well, you know we are rather dedicated to serving only the freshest food and the very best ingredients here!”

The person behind him was now setting the bag of food on his shoulder and sliding it down his arm. The food inside was already greasing up his shirt.

“Yeah, right,” said the woman driving. “Is that our food there?” she asked, pointing to the person behind Doctor Ralph.

“Hmmm?” he said before snapping the food out of the hands of the young girl behind him. “Right, of course. Here you go!” he said, handing it out the window.

The woman’s smile faded as she handed the bag of food across the seat to the man there. “Thanks,” she said, putting the car into gear and easing forward.

Doctor Ralph wanted to shout at her, tell her to wait, ask her who she was and why she had ordered that meal, but his brain had frozen. He couldn’t move. It was all he could do to wrench himself out of himself and quickly memorize the license plate number as Detective Mimi Spatchcock and Walter Elliot pulled out of the driveway of the fast food place, and drove away.

Super Meals: Part Twenty-Three

Walter Elliot woke up starving.

Not literally, of course, but quite near so. He had dreamed of…food? No, not quite. He couldn’t remember what he’d dreamed, but he remembered feeling confused and that there was food involved, but it wasn’t a dream about eating food, just ordering it.

Yes, that was it; he’d been at a restaurant. The same cheap fast-food joint where he’d had his cheerful meal that gave him super strength for a little while. And now that he thought about it, he was hungry and curious. Where did his power come from? Was it just the food? Was it the food and the drink? Was it just one of the foods? Or all of them together?

As he went about his morning business, he continued to ponder the events of the previous day and while he wanted to know, he was also scared to find out. What if he ate the wrong thing and it did something bad? What if that conversation he’d had with that detective ended up coming true and he ordered breakfast and his face exploded or lasers shot out of his ass or he grew so much hair he ended up looking like a wookie…

There were so many possibilities and no answers.

Unless he found out.

He had made up his mind to try the food again and see what happened. He had time to hit the drive-thru on his way to work, and he was certainly hungry enough, so he thought he’d get something straight off the menu as well as a special order. He’d eat the normal meal first, see what happened, then have the second one later.

When he was clean and dressed he grabbed his keys and walked outside.

Then he remembered that his car was still in the parking lot across town with the door ripped off its hinges.

“Ah shit,” he said, looking up and down the block as if a ride was going to magically appear, or a taxi was going to be conveniently driving by.

That was when Detective Mimi pulled up and honked.

Walter jumped in surprise, then his face twisted in confusion as he walked around to the driver’s side window, which Mimi was already rolling down.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Need a lift?” she asked in return.

“I…yeah, actually,” he said. “I do. How did you know?”

“You ripped the door off your car last night, remember? I swung by the restaurant and saw some old piece of shit with no driver’s side door in the parking lot, so I figured you hadn’t picked it up yet and would need a ride. You hungry?”

“Wha—yeah, I am. But—”

“Then get in,” she finished.

He raised a finger as if he was about to say something, but couldn’t speak. He turned to her and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Finally he turned and went around to the passenger side and climbed in.

“So what are you really doing here?” he asked when they had started moving.

“I…” she began to say, but then stopped herself. There was no getting around the fact that she needed his help. Two mysterious deaths linked to apparent superhuman abilities and this particular fast food chain left her with questions but no answers except for this nobody who had eaten the same food from the same restaurant and developed powers of his own…but was still alive.

Protocol dictated that she maintain the confidentiality of the investigation, but she very much doubted he’d go along with her wanting to use him as a human guinea-pig unless she ponied up some answers. She could be honest without giving up too much, she decided, until she absolutely had to.

“I need your help,” she finished. “Remember that dead homeless guy yesterday?”

“Yeah, actually. Kinda hard to forget about him, seeing as his last meal was from my favorite burger joint.”

“There’s been another death involving that place. Along with other…anomalies.”

“Wait, you mean someone else got superpowers?” he asked.

“You could say that. Personally, I can’t help but think that it’s something with the food itself,” said Detective Mimi as she pulled into the drive-thru lane at the fast-food place. “So…can I buy you breakfast?”