Voices
by Michele Markarian
eloveridge.2012@gmail.com stood outside SunGrinds morning beverage shop, surreptitiously holding a leaflet that had been distributed through the offline community. (The elders had access to something from the Reagan era called a copy machine, which allowed them to mass produce handwritten messages on pieces of paper.) As she studied their latest missive, eloveridge.2012@gmail.com wished that she could do handwriting--it looked so official and elegant on the page.
The leaflet warned that the ingredients in the beverages the stores were selling were poison; the thick whipped cream and mocha sauces that made each beverage so sweet were actually coating consumers' vocal chords with a thin film. Even if anyone were allowed to talk--which had gone out of fashion during the Trump administration--they couldn't. The leaflet had also spoken of an earlier time, when one could order a singular beverage called "Coffee", which, in addition to being tasty, produced a feeling of energy. eloveridge.2012@gmail.com was dying to try the simple coffee, which was drunk either black or with something called Half and Half.
eloveridge.2012@gmail.com entered SunGrinds and got into the long line. There were four beverages on the menu to choose from: Mocha Coffeado with Whipped Cream and Hazelnut Syrup, Chocolate Mocha Choca with Whipped Cream and Butterscotch, Vanilla Cremarama with Whipped Cream and Gelato Shot, and Triple Toffee Coffee with Triple Whipped Cream.
Finally, she reached the front.
The SunGrinds attendant looked at eloveridge.2012@gmail.com and greeted her with an iPhone in her flattened palm. This was eloveridge.2012@gmail.com's cue to activate her beverage choice on her own iPhone. eloveridge.2012@gmail.com had been quietly practicing this moment in a corner of her room for months. Her lips trembled. She thought she recognized a few people from the offline community, which gave her courage.
"Coffee." Her voice sounded hoarse, alien, certainly not as good as she would have liked. An electric current ran through SunGrind's morning commuters, who jittered and stared, with open-mouthed shock. eloveridge.2012@gmail.com was infused with a strange surge of energy.