First thing in the morning, I think of Christi. I heard her sing in my dreams. She sounded restless. I fear the hotel has been left in utter chaos. Everyone I have known for these past years in Utopia, must have been affected. A person disappearing causes tension. Did they let my assistants have control of the hotel, or was it not suitable to Master's tastes yet? Last I spoke about his theoretical promotion, people weren't very confident with the idea. Was I selfish in leaving like this? Even though I was a slave, I had a duty to my bretherin... Did I?
I stride in my underwear to the writing desk. The air is a bit chilly. I heed my body no mind, I must ask Christi what has happened since I left. I hope she hasn't gotten in trouble because people know we get on well. Wouldn't put it past Master to be so paranoid, he has led someone to spy on employees. A fysical letter to her home will be safest. I must ask Anti-Rick to get it delivered to her home discreetly.
Dear Christi,
I hope my letter finds you well.
I have escaped, and am safe. I'll tell you more, once I know myself. I hope our friendship is as strong as I hope it is, and you can keep my new found happiness a secret. How has my leaving affected the hotel? Has anyone even told you I ran? Wouldn't put it past them to cover the whole thing up. I hope we can meet one day now that we don't have to adjust our mouths according to the ears present. I'll write my new address in the lid of the envelope.
Can you tell me tips on how to live in the free world? I dream of your singing.
-The Morty of your heart
There is a knock on my door, as I'm rummaging all the small drawers of the desk, to find a damn envelope. It's a female voice saying she has my breakfast. I look down at myself, but choose to stay underdressed. They'll understand after a while. If I'm going to live here , I'm definitely not going to skirt around staff. "Come in!"
When I see the front of the serving cart, I already know we're going to be friends.
She pushes the door open with just enough force, that it stops moving as it is perfectly 25 degrees away from the wall. I watch mesmerised as her tall robust figure, carefully adjust the carts angle, and then pushes it towards the small table and a loveseat. She closes the door,and joggs to catch up to the cart. As she walks beside the freely moving cart, takes a rose from one of the flower vases in the room. Her quite casual but formal black jeans, paired with a button up shirt, is so modern looking after the cartoony apparel of utopia. She cuts the flowers stem to the appropriate length at a beautiful angle, and just as the cart is coming to a halt, places it in the breakfast set. How odd. Maybe they ran out of roses in the lower levels.
I must look like a fool, as I just stare at her serving food. Anti-Rick is one for theatrics then, if this is what he chooses to pay extra for. I'm sure she has some super prestigious degree from some unknown dimension, and charges extra. Is this what having money is like to people who aren't Ricks? Because anti-Rick is flamboyant, is everything around him going to be like that? Oh god I don't think I can live in a place like that, It'll get tiring very fast. I must befriend the staff before I suffocate .
She moves the cart away, and bows a bit towards me. "Good morning Morty. Sir Sanchez has asked me to wake you up now at the latest, and bring you breakfast. It's twelve o'clock. He said to tell you he has gone back to the hotel. Perhaps after you have eaten, we could discuss getting you some clothes and other supplies. We are instructed to answer all of your whims, so go nuts kiddo," she tells me and smiles kindly. She has freckles, and thought her hair is on a ponytail, her dreadlocks give her head a doll-like appearance. Not the most symmetrical of faces, but round and kind. She must be hitting her thirties, and there are already laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. Yes, I will like her.
"Could I have some local newspaper, and this letter needs to be posted. I can't find envelopes though, so I'll just write down the address, please wait a moment, " I tell her noticing that it is easier to approach her more like I would a colleague. Her smile broadens, and I turn back to the desk, ripping a piece from a notepad. I scribble down Christie's address, while she answers:"I'll bring you an assortment of different papers. Anything else?" I walk to her, before she can react, and hand her the scribble with the letter. "Write this address in the lid of the envelope. Thank you…?"
She puts my post on the cart, and shakes my hand:" Taffy."
"Nice to meet you. I hope I can meet the rest of the staff soon."
She looks a bit taken back but recovers fast:" I'll see what can be arranged."
"If it's not too much to ask, I think just joining a few of your staff lunches is enough for me if you have those. No need to make it into a thing. I think I have enough time to meet everyone eventually."
"I'll ask. Have a pleasant breakfast."
As fast as she came, she is gone. I give one glance at the food, but decide my angry bladder takes top spot. As I stare at the expensive ceramics of the wall, I prod my emotions.
I somehow feel better after talking to her. Maybe I just needed someone to relate to, to soften the blow. I feel like I'm more equipped now to explore my new surroundings. My eyes focus back on the ornate tile on the wall. It must be hand painted. She made me more equipped to deal with the sudden change from staff to getting served. I feel confident I'll be able to hold onto what makes me.
As I wash my hands, I look into my own eyes through the mirror. I'm a good person. I only want good to come to others. I will be kind, and I will have compassion. Money won't change me. Stop being so silly Morty.