He walked over to the kitchen to start work. The first job was to make breakfast for the meditation teacher. She’d been up since before dawn doing whatever she did then. Now she wanted some strong coffee with toast and jam. After that, she’d go for her usual long walk---which was more than anything else an excuse to have her morning cigarette. He got the espresso machine going and tossed some bread slices in the toaster. No one else ate the dreadful white bread that Barbara insisted upon, so they only got one loaf whenever the deliveries came. But everyone liked her, so the chef made her various jams from the best fruit that Hakim was able to grow in the kitchen garden.
When it was all ready, Nate took it over on a tray to the table where Barb was sitting by herself. She grunted a vague “thanks” and he left her alone. When the morning program started she was “on” and in constant demand---so she treasured her morning “alone time”. People showed their appreciation by leaving her “be” when she wanted.
Nat’s next task was to help prepare breakfast for the visitors. He started by getting out the dozen large teapots and charging each of them with a spoon full of twig tea. When the breakfast group came in, he’d be able to fill each one from the giant boiling hot water dispenser just before he took them out.
Next he got his “marching orders”. Renatta Fatima was a medium-sized, slender woman who wore glasses with giant lenses and thin, fine hair that hung straight down the side of her head---giving her something of an owlish look. “This morning I thought we’d have a bit of a “self-serve”. I’ve made some muffins that are now in the oven. We can put them out when they are finished. I’d also like you to get the bagels you baked a couple days ago and put them out with a few pounds of cream cheese and the smoked splake that Hakim bought when he visited the First Nation’s community last week.”
Nate knew what to do. There was a side board where he put out bowls of cream cheese to warm up and become spreadable. He also put out wooden platters that had whole, smoked fish on them. There he also put out some fruit salad that several other members of the kitchen help had prepared the night before. Finally, he put out four dozen pre-sliced bagels in a large bowl next to a several four-slice toasters. The tables already had plates, bowls, knives, forks, spoons, and, teacups. He wheeled the big ass coffee urn into the dining room from the kitchen and put it next to the stack of coffee cups, plugged it in, and, set it to do “it’s thing”.
At that point he got himself a cup of coffee from the staff urn, made some peanut butter and toast, and plunked down at the table in the corner of the enormous industrial kitchen. Renatta and the others were already there. Most had tablets or phones and were reading the day’s news.
Hakim was scanning something intently on his smart phone. He was a tall, wiry, very fit-looking middle-aged man with a very thick, long, bushy beard. “Wow! I can’t believe the news coming out of Washington. The mob that stormed the Congress and took all those people hostage has issued a statement through Blabber. The CBC says they are calling on all the militias in America to mobilize. They want to stop the “liberal elite” from torturing children to harvest adrenochrome---whatever that is.”
Olive---who had come in a bit earlier with her two dogs (Karbon and Nik)---came over with a tray and sat down next to Nat. She’d been listening as she filled her bowl with oatmeal and poured some coffee. Like everyone else, she pulled out her phone and stared at it in disbelief. “On my twitter feed it says that they’ve built some sort of structure outside and are threatening to ‘get real, real fast’.”
“Why are the police just letting this happen?”, Nate was amazed at how quickly things seemed to be spiralling out of control.
Kelly had already been at the table with his breakfast when Nate sat down. “It’s a difficult situation. There are a lot of important people secured with zip ties and controlled by crazies who seem to be bent on killing them if they see any attempt at a rescue. I’m not sure that any police SWAT team would have much hope of getting them out without a lot of death and destruction. Even really good commandos would have a difficult time---and it will take some time to come up with a plan, and, get them and their gear in place. I’m sure that that’s all happening, but doing a job like that right will take long enough to give these freaks some time to do some bad things.” He scowled and stirred sugar into his coffee. “It’s not like the movies.”
Nat spoke out loud for everyone there, “I wonder what the big cheeses are making of all this---?”
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