Chatty Town

Chapter Two : The Outside World

"Good morning!" A cheerful voice– from behind the counter to my left– chimes.

I swivel my head slightly to the left to see a young boy–maybe 13 or 14– dressed in a sweater over a blue buttoned shirt, his brown hair is perfectly swept across his face. He smiles and I mirror him.

Finally, a real person.

I take a step toward him and feel the hospital gown rub against my body. I glance down and see the blue polyester gown that drapes over my body. Why didn't I notice this stupid thing before? The boy must have noticed my disgust because it didn't take more than a second for his voice to fill the air again.

"Wanna get yourself into something more you?"

Our eyes meet and I nod as my cheeks feel warm. He walks out from behind the counter and makes his way over to me, holding out his hand "Olsen, by the way. And you are?"

I don't remember. I don't remember a lot of things. He turns my hand– the one he holds in his now– and reads the plastic band around my wrist.

"Rowan Turing. Nice to meet you." He drops my hand and looks at the circular racks of clothing beside us.

I glance down at my wrist, and feel the band with my other hand. Huh, I didn't know that was there.

It says my name, Rowan Turing. My birth date, March 3, 2041– as well as the day I was admitted into Willow Brook Hospital, December 22, 2058.

"You look like a size 6, so that would be-" Olsen walks around the racks and I follow him. Now aware of the gape of the gown behind me, from the cold breeze that greets my skin from behind.

I start grabbing at the middle of the gown behind me, pulling the gown closed and waddling over behind Olsen as I glance awkwardly around the boutique looking for other people who may have seen my indiscretions. I found no one. Though that only eases my embarrassment by a little.

Olsen interrupts my thoughts, "Here you are! Size 6...and 8 is here in case you want a looser fit."

My head whips back to him as he holds his hands over the respective sizes he mentioned and I nod and start sorting through the clothes on the racks. "Where is everyone else?"

"What do you mean?" Olsen says as he notices my awkward hand behind my back- closing the opening of the gown that I'm unfortunately still wearing.

"Well-" I exhale a laugh, "You don't work here alone, do you?"

Olsen quickly sorts through the clothes on his side of the rack and pulls out a long red coat, he walks over to me and answers while he opens the coat over my shoulders.

"Of course I don't. I have help, they're just not here right now." He's taller than me, but his face is so young.

I push my arms through the holes. The coat is long, going past my thighs– just above my knees– and I thank him for offering it to me. I turn to the racks and start looking through the clothes with both my hands. He nods and takes a few steps backwards to lean against another clothing rack as he supervises me figuring out my clothing tastes.

"Where's your boss?" I ask over my shoulder looking back at him.

"Well, that depends on how you define 'boss'."

I stop searching the racks and look at him from where I stand.
Olsen adjusts his stance and sighs, "I don't answer to anyone, but I do share my reports with others. And everyone here does the same. They report to me, but they don't really answer to me. Although, depending on who you ask they might say they do."