The coffee machine in Weiss's office looked older than some governments. It rattled loudly enough to suggest the process required negotiation rather than electricity. He handed me a mug without asking whether I wanted one. Doctors tend to develop the habit of making decisions for other people. Sometimes that includes beverages. I took a sip. It tasted terrible.
“You drink this?”
“More than advisable.”
“Voluntarily?”
“It keeps me awake.”
“So would mild electrocution.”
He drank from his cup before answering. “This requires less paperwork.”
I drank another mouthful anyway. The mug emptied slowly while the taste became strangely familiar. Somewhere between the third and fourth swig it stopped being unpleasant. The bitterness lingered longer than the coffee itself.
I rinsed my mouth with water from the dispenser by the door. It helped exactly enough to prove the effort had been made. Aftertastes typically outlive whatever caused them. People assume experiences work the same way memories do. They don't. Moments rarely stay. What they leave behind usually does.
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The story continues on October 04.
The Geometry of Choice: Book I of The Equilibrium Strain.
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