CHAPTER SIX - THE ROOFTOP GARDEN
by Robin Bowering and Kim Firmston
Leaving the Ever Falling Narwhal, you try to figure who would know where this package is destined. It would probably be best to talk to whoever is in charge of this mess. Looking around, you decide that the top of the building would be the best place to look considering that’s where the CEO’s tend to reside. After taking two elevators and going up multiple stair cases, your calves burn as you climb the arbitrary escalator, which keeps switching back and forth at random intervals, making you anxious. The back and forth equals out, though, so it’s okay. Finally reaching the top, you spy a door labelled “Garden”. Confused, you trudge towards the stream of daylight.
You find yourself in a rooftop garden, gloomy daylight all around. It’s dark enough that you can see the glow from various varieties and colours of mushrooms that dot this magical place. Motes of glowing dust pulse through the air, and a low gentle hum makes you feel at ease. There is a large tree that stands in the centre of the garden, and an equally large mushroom at its base – it actually looks like a monk sitting in meditation. A babble of water flowing over rocks bubbles in the distance.
Putting down the package on a big round rock, you call out, “Hello?”
“Shut the hell up!” someone calls back.
“What?” you ask, looking around trying to find this rude speaker. “I was just –”
“Shut the -” the voice begins to yell again but is interrupted.
“Bro-shroom. Would you please?” A curly-haired man comes from around the back of the tree.
The large mushroom moves it’s two “arms” from where they were folded in front and pinches its fingers on either side of it, then intones, “Bro-o-o-o-o-o-o,” in a deep voice, shooting out more of the sparkling, glowing dust motes into the air.
The tree appears to breath then settle, as if asleep.
“Sorry, the curly-haired man says, shoving a trowel into his overalls. “The tree doesn’t like noise.” He sticks out his hand. “I’m Gardener Curly! You must be The Intern. How is your day going?”
You tell the gardener all about how you’ve wound up with this package and how the building is so weird, and how everything just feels off.
“That sounds hard. Mushroom?” Gardener Curly holds out a glowing blue mushroom.
“Thanks?” You put it in your pocket. Not sure if you are supposed to decorate with it or eat it. “So you’re not in charge?”
He shakes his head. “No. I just give our residents a place to come and be calm, collect their thoughts, and have some quiet. Everyone needs a place like that once in a while, don’t you think?”
You look around and nod. You already feel less stressed. “Is this package yours?” you ask.
“No.” He shakes his head, his many curls making a ruffling noise as he does so. “What’s in it?”
“I don’t know,” you say. “It’s not mine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure.” You sigh, then frown. “Is that darkness getting closer?” The city looks mostly gone now, and it’s darker than ever. “I mean,” You look your watch, “it’s noon.”
“It’s midnight,” Gardener Curly says. “Twelve means midnight.”
“I don’t think so. I mean, not in this case.”
“Well I don’t know then.” He wanders off down a path, calling, “Good luck finding whoever owns that package.”
You find yourself in a rooftop garden, gloomy daylight all around. It’s dark enough that you can see the glow from various varieties and colours of mushrooms that dot this magical place. Motes of glowing dust pulse through the air, and a low gentle hum makes you feel at ease. There is a large tree that stands in the centre of the garden, and an equally large mushroom at its base – it actually looks like a monk sitting in meditation. A babble of water flowing over rocks bubbles in the distance.
Putting down the package on a big round rock, you call out, “Hello?”
“Shut the hell up!” someone calls back.
“What?” you ask, looking around trying to find this rude speaker. “I was just –”
“Shut the -” the voice begins to yell again but is interrupted.
“Bro-shroom. Would you please?” A curly-haired man comes from around the back of the tree.
The large mushroom moves it’s two “arms” from where they were folded in front and pinches its fingers on either side of it, then intones, “Bro-o-o-o-o-o-o,” in a deep voice, shooting out more of the sparkling, glowing dust motes into the air.
The tree appears to breath then settle, as if asleep.
“Sorry, the curly-haired man says, shoving a trowel into his overalls. “The tree doesn’t like noise.” He sticks out his hand. “I’m Gardener Curly! You must be The Intern. How is your day going?”
You tell the gardener all about how you’ve wound up with this package and how the building is so weird, and how everything just feels off.
“That sounds hard. Mushroom?” Gardener Curly holds out a glowing blue mushroom.
“Thanks?” You put it in your pocket. Not sure if you are supposed to decorate with it or eat it. “So you’re not in charge?”
He shakes his head. “No. I just give our residents a place to come and be calm, collect their thoughts, and have some quiet. Everyone needs a place like that once in a while, don’t you think?”
You look around and nod. You already feel less stressed. “Is this package yours?” you ask.
“No.” He shakes his head, his many curls making a ruffling noise as he does so. “What’s in it?”
“I don’t know,” you say. “It’s not mine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure.” You sigh, then frown. “Is that darkness getting closer?” The city looks mostly gone now, and it’s darker than ever. “I mean,” You look your watch, “it’s noon.”
“It’s midnight,” Gardener Curly says. “Twelve means midnight.”
“I don’t think so. I mean, not in this case.”
“Well I don’t know then.” He wanders off down a path, calling, “Good luck finding whoever owns that package.”