Night 21: Deepcolour, Portrait Cookies
The Late Night Diner is a part of Rhodes Island's canteen. That goes without saying – to whom had anyone ever heard of a diner in the boiler room?
As the name implies, it opens around midnight. There are only a handful of customers at a time.
Operators off their night shift could take an order and bring back to their quarters. Night owls could sit dining-in while leeching off the Diner's wi-fi. The Doctor would come for instant noodles from time to time.
Drinks are in the cooler. Anyone burdened by their own thoughts could take one and chug it down, anytime.
Menu? No such thing exists. What the Chef prepares is what you get. It all depends on his mood of the day.
Welcome to the Rhodes Island Late Night Diner. In here, you might even meet a familiar face or two.
The Chef was kneading a lump of dough. He was also throwing glances at the girl painting on the other side of the counter.
The kid had sat there behind her easel for almost half an hour. She didn't order food, she didn't speak, she didn't even move her posture. She only looked at the Chef once awhile. The Chef didn't know much about the girl. He only knew that she was a member of the specialist team and she was a good artist.
"Don't move please." Deepcolour saw that the Chef was spying on her. In her creative endeavour she said softly, "Just kept the pose, thanks..."
"The dough was already done, and I kept at it for twenty more minutes just for you. If I kept going with this, the dough's gonna go stiff." The Chef said, putting his hand down on the cutting board with resignation, "I still had a lot of customers to serve. What am I gonna do, kneading the dough all night long and let them eat air biscuit?" It was true. Many operators done with their late night meal had been waiting long for their snacks. The impatient ones were already standing up and looking towards the kitchen.
"Biscuits? Cookies?...Wait! I got it! Inspirations!" Deepcolour threw the palette onto the table beside her, jumped off the stool and rushed straight into the kitchen. "Boss, do you have any pigments? Like food colouring?"
"Food colouring is over there – wait, how did you get in?! Customers are not allowed in the kitchen! At least, wash your hands first!" The Chef watched as Deepcolour went through drawers and cabinets, then placed a bouquet of food colouring tubes on the counter. "Your hands are full of paint. You can't make food with hands like that !" He said, dragging her by the wrist to the sink.
Under the Chef's attentive gaze, Deepcolour washed her hands clean and put on a pair of latex gloves. She then put out a row of small bowls and started mixing colour in them. A drop of black here, some white in there, and a bit of cerulean...
As the rumor went, it was said that the paint Deepcolour used contain Originium dust. The Medical Department personnel had warned her quite a few times about its dangerous properties, yet she had never paid much attention to their words. All her health checks came out clean every time anyway. Still, compare to the content of her paint, what stranger was the way she painted. Many operators had mentioned that whenever they posed for Miss Deepcolour, they could always hear some unusual...whispers. They sounded distinct yet hard to discern, and often mixed with the scratches of brush on canvas. Moreover, they could see some type of creatures surrounding her – if they could be called creatures. These creatures would help her mixing paint and leave their own marks on the canvas. Some even claimed to see them having conversations with her...
...The Chef pondered on these hearsays he heard from the customers. Presently, he watched with interest as Deepcolour and a few tentacles kneading the food colouring into the dough. "Hey, don't let your little helpers do the kitchen work for you! I can't serve unsanitary food."
"Okay." Deepcolour said. With a wave of her hand, her assistants withered all at once and completely disappeared after. She then kneaded the dough of varying colour into sticks or circles, and piled them on top of each other like toy blocks pieces then pressed firm. The Chef, looking at the strangely shaped, colourful dough, grew a bit wary about the quality of tonight's sweets – not for the taste, but the presentation. He worried that the customers would not willing to put these things in their mouth.
Deepcolour rolled the last lump of black dough into a thin flap, and wrapped it around the piled-up dough-cylinder and closed it opening. She then put it into the fridge for it to harden. A few minutes later she took out the entire cylinder and cut it into two inch thick slices. They would be used as cookie bases. Then she took out a tray and placed them in neat rows for baking. It was then the Chef finally figured out the mystery behind it all.
"Was that me?" He said chuckling and picked up a slice. "Gotta say, you did a good job. I never thought of making cookies like this – piling dough layer after layer on top of each other like toy blocks. Is this some type of your artistic expression?"
"It was alright." Deepcolour put the tray into the oven, "Just a bit spatial thinking and familiarity with colours. Boss, you could easily make them with some practises."
When the toasty aroma of wheat and sugar was pouring out from the oven, Deepcolour had already gone back to her seat. She resumed her painting, and requested the Chef to pose for her once again. The Chef took out the tray of well-made portrait cookies from the oven and put them aside to cool. Even though Deepcolour made the cookies in cartoon style, seeing his own smouldering faces staring back at him made the Chef feel a slight sense of unease. To him it was a bit disturbing.
"Relax, I can teach you later on how to make portrait cookies for others." Deepcolour said smirking. She poked her head out behind the canvas. "The Doctor, maybe?"
"Heavens above, I should really introduce you to that Roberta kid." The Chef put the cookies into small porcelain dishes and placed the dishes atop the display cabinet. "You artist types are so hard to understand."
"Hey boss, is the sweets ready?" A young man fidgeted to the front counter and asked reluctantly. "We had been waiting for half an hour. We can't just drink beer any more...oh hi Miss Deepcolour. Are you painting a portrait for the boss?"
"Oh yes. Not only did she do that, she also made my head into cookies." The Chef rolled his eyes and pushed a plate of cookies towards him. "So quickly bud, chew me up and swallow me into your belly. You will find my brain tastes sweet."
"You're funny." Deepcolour said, watching the dumbfounded operator walk away. She then turned the easel around facing the Chef. "Portrait for you. Do you like it?"
The Chef looked at the sullen figure kneading doughs on the canvas and picked up a cookie. He waved it at Deepcolour, then bit off half of his own face.