Delphi - Chapter One

Chapter 1
Cherries
Seven cups patiently waited to be drained of the dark liquid they obediently held. Arthur Crumpet, the man who would alleviate them of this burden, shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Red lights overhead masked any perceivable color which might identify the cup's contents. Across the table from Arthur sat two people. Having already forgotten their names, he now thought of them as Mr. Official Dead-Eyes and Ms. Official Pen-Ear.
          Mr. Dead-Eyes cleared his throat and stared, unblinking. "Are you ready to begin, Arthur?"
          "Wait, wait, wait, we can't start yet. I can't seem to find..." said Ms. Pen-Ear as she lifted her clipboard and searched the table. "Sorry, I'm so sorry. I know I just had it. One second. It will only take a minute." She started patting her pockets and lifted the clipboard again. "Oh, never mind. I think I have another one." Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a pen. She then spent a few more seconds straightening her dress, adjusting her clipboard, and repositioning her drink. "Ok. Whenever you're ready, Arthur."
          Arthur and Dead-Eyes stared at her. Dead-Eyes blinked. Arthur closed his drooping jaw, averted his gaze, and returned his attention back to the cups. He frowned slightly, then nodded his head. "All right. Better get started."
          Arthur licked his lips and picked up the first cup. He brought it to just under his nose and inhaled the aromas. The tension in Arthur's shoulders melted away as if they had been coaxed into submission by the hands of a skillful masseuse. Familiarity washed over him, relaxing the muscles in his face and closing his eyes. He was home.
          The moment passed as it always did and Arthur opened his eyes. He carefully placed the cup down in front of him. With a steady hand, he picked up a nearby spoon and dipped it smoothly into the dark liquid. Taking special care not to spill a drop, he balanced a spoonful of the aromatic elixir and slowly brought it to his lips.
          When tasting coffee as a connoisseur it's extremely important, for sake of technique and tradition, to slurp as loudly as possible. Arthur had practiced this slurp many times before in the privacy of his apartment and among close friends at a local bar. He was quite proud of the decibel level he could achieve. In fact, one of his friends said it was like listening to the cyclonic draining of a large bathtub, or perhaps the rushing whirlpool of a freshly flushed latrine. It was with these comments in mind that Arthur performed his practiced slurp before the judges. Dead-eyes rewarded his demonstration with a particularly flat stare. Pen-Ear frantically flitted her newly located pen across the notepad. She was either drawing a picture of a cat or taking heavy notes. Arthur couldn't tell which from his viewpoint.
          Moving past the obligatory theatrics, Arthur put his tongue to work. He controlled the slope and slide of the coffee so it touched, at command, his tongue's salt-sensitive tip, bitter back, and sour sides. He picked up a pen and started filling in the empty form in front of him. Floral aroma. Acidic. Herbal, like a black tea. Full body. Has to be Kenya. Once he was sure he had the name, he moved to the next cup. Vanilla and brown sugar. Low acidity. Medium body. Hawaii. And the next. Earthy. Woody, Intense, Full Body. Sumatra.
          Arthur continued to slurp, sip, write, and identify cup after cup until he was at the seventh and final vessel. He paused at the aroma phase. Something was unusual about this one. No, not unusual - wrong. Very wrong. It smelled chocolatey. Ridiculously chocolatey. And he couldn't detect the slightest amount of coffee. This was a coffee exam with black coffee, each from a single origin to be identified. And yet, this smelled chocolatey and quite possibly sweet.
          Arthur furrowed his brow and looked up at Dead-Eyes, who stared back with a gaze as cold as stone. Arthur shifted his eyes to Pen-Ear, who peered at him intently over her half-moon glasses. She had stopped writing to pick up the personal beverage in front of her. She took a sip.
          "BLECH," exclaimed Pen-Ear as she let the liquid fall out of her mouth and back into the cup. "That is the worst cup of hot chocolate I have ever tasted." Her eyes widened and returned to Arthur. "Oh, sorry, Arthur. I didn't mean to interrupt."
          Arthur released the air he had been holding in his lungs. Then he smiled. "Uh, ma'am, I think there's been a mistake. I believe this is your hot chocolate." He offered her the seventh cup.
          "What? Oh, no dear, that's impossible. I set the samples out here myself. I brought them out two at a time and...oh. Oh, my." Pen-Ear said, as the flare of a guilty memory passed before her eyes.
          Dead-Eyes groaned and shook his head. "Arthur, could I see your exam?"
          Arthur handed him the filled out form.
          Dead-Eyes glanced over it, nodding at the various notes. After a minute, he looked back up at Arthur. "Are you happy with these answers?"
          "Yes, sir. I am."
          "Well. I can't say I'm surprised. They're all correct."
          "Thank you, sir. But, I didn't identify the seventh cup."
          Dead-Eyes shrugged. "Considering your outstanding performance in triangulation, roast identification, and the other origins, I really don't think it's necessary. Especially with how well you did on your written exam. In fact, throughout the entire testing process, you have consistently demonstrated nothing but a thorough understanding of coffee creation, history, cupping, flavor, and quality testing. You have more than earned the Quirky Koffee's Konnoisseur badge, apron, and pay increase. Congratulations."
          Dead-Eyes stood up from his chair and offered his hand to Arthur, who quickly rose to shake it. Pen-Ear stood up as well, offering her hand and a smile. Arthur accepted both.
          "You really did do an amazing job. One of the best exams I've ever proctored," said Pen-Ear.
          "Thank you," Arthur replied. "Am I free to go?"
          "Of course, dear. We have to clean up and get these red lights changed out. Then we'll be heading back to the home office. Feel free to grab a cup of coffee before you leave - anything you want," said Pen-Ear
          Arthur walked around the table and reached the door on the other side of the room. A grin started growing on his face. He swung the door open with his left hand, twirled through the opening, and caught the handle with his right hand, gently closing the door shut. He surveyed the cafe.
          The Quirky Koffee chain of coffee shops, frequently referred to as the "QK", promised three Q's to its customers: Quick Qualified Quality. To help them achieve their 3Q promise, the company used the latest in high-speed commercial espresso machines. The price tag on these machines guaranteed a consistent product, notwithstanding the inconsistencies of the humans preparing them. The slogan of the Quirky Koffee was "We're more than OK. We're QK!" And they proudly displayed this clever wordplay on every barista's apron and on each cup sold. They even had it painted in large gold lettering on a wallpaper of green-leafed coffee trees in full bloom.
          Despite the name, the Quirky Koffee did not offer gimmicky flavors like "Cotton Candy" or "Unicorn". Instead, the peculiar trait was in the coffee itself and the environment in which it was served. A Q-shaped preparation and serving area dominated the center of the caf This allowed customers to observe the creation process from any angle they chose. It also created a pressing level of transparency which kept the baristas accountable and self-supervised.
          A live coffee plant sat in the corner by a window. It was surrounded by a moat-like fountain which prevented customers from touching the attraction. Each Quirky Koffee was given a single plant at their Grand Opening, with the expectation that the employees would take care of and nurture the living thing as carefully as they cared for their customers. Naturally, the QK headquarters maintained various back-up plants should any of the store plants ever die.
          The Quirky Koffee served a wide variety of single origin coffees and specialized blends. Their baristas were thoroughly trained to tell the story of each and every bean. That is, when they were not busy preparing and serving coffee in a quick and efficient manner to customers watching their every movement. The price for this level of quality and service was passed down to the consumers, who proudly consisted of patrons looking for something a bit more "real, and organic". The QK was happy to tell them what that meant in a cup of coffee.
          Arthur prepared two cappuccinos and brought them to an occupied table near the coffee plant's moat.
          "Lady Guinevere, I bring you mead from the hunchbacked land of Quasimodo."
          The table's occupant looked up from her drawing pad, and smiled. "Couldn't think of another word that started with Q? And I've told you not to call me that. It's Gwen. G-W-E-N. I'm not Guinevere, have never been Guinevere, and will never be Guinevere. But I accept your mead, good sir." She took the cup, drew a sip, then set the drink on the table next to where Arthur had placed his.
          "Ah, but what if the Arthur you're seeing should ever become a king?"
          "Then I still wouldn't let him call me Guinevere." Gwen's smile grew into a grin. "You passed?"
          "I passed."
          Gwen stood up, threw her arms around Arthur, and kissed him on the lips.
          "I can't believe it! I knew you would pass. You know more about coffee than anyone I've ever met. It's actually kind of weird. Not as weird as those people who like to pin live butterflies to cork boards but still weird."
          "You don't pin butterflies to a cork board. You mount them onto a spreading board. And they're dead when you do it."
          "I'm not even going to ask how you know that."
          "Easy." Arthur replied with a shrug, "I know everything."
          "Oh, do you now?" Gwen moved her hips closer to Arthur and pulled him closer. "Then tell me, lover." She moved her head next to his ear and placed her hand caressingly on the side of his neck. "What am I thinking right now?"
          Arthur remembered to blink and tried to form words. "Uh..."
          Gwen abruptly turned around and went back to her seat. "I'm thinking we should celebrate. So, where are you taking me?"
          Arthur started to mouth the beginnings of words but couldn't seem to create the sounds to go with the movements.
          Gwen took a sip of her coffee and watched him make his way to a seat.
          "You back yet?" Gwen asked.
          "Uh-huh. I'm here." Arthur picked up his drink and took a sip. "You said celibate?"
          Gwen laughed, nearly spilling her coffee. "Celebrate. And yes, we should go somewhere. You studied for months. You've earned a night out."
          "Ok," Arthur said, "How about Sous les Etoiles? I hear the weather's going to be nice tonight."
          "I said celebrate. Not file for bankruptcy. That place is crazy expensive."
          "Come on. It'll be nice. Besides, I just got a raise."
          Gwen raised an eyebrow, "Oh, did you?"
          Arthur looked at her quizzically. Then his eyes widened in comprehension. "Not that kind of raise. I mean, well. Look, you know what I'm talking about."
          Gwen laughed. "All right. Fine. But you better dress up. I'm not going to spend two hours getting ready just to have you arrive in flip flops and a t-shirt."
          "Well, shucks," Arthur said, imitating a country accent. "Now I'll neva find sump'n ta go with ma denim cutoffs."
          "Uh-huh. Keep laughing, funny boy. Those shorts won't be the only thing that gets cut off."
          "A bit below the belt there, don't you think?"
          "I'm glad to see we're on the same page." Gwen stood up and gathered her materials, double checking to make sure she didn't leave anything. She turned to Arthur. "I'll see you tonight. Congrats again."
          Arthur kissed her goodbye then cleaned up their coffee cups. He bid his farewell to the working baristas. On his way out, he stopped by the coffee plant in the corner. He looked at it. It was barely a sprout when he first met Gwen. Over the years he had watched it flower time and time again. Each year he hoped for the carpals that would bear fruit and each year he was disappointed. This year, though, the flowers had fallen off, the carpals had arrived, and green cherries had quickly replaced them. Every week for five months, he watched their progress. Now, as he looked, he found what he had been waiting for. A dark red cherry hung, waiting to be picked. Arthur gazed upon that cherry and smiled. His eyes watered slightly and he laughed, wiping them clear. He looked around the Quirky Koffee one last time and then left through the glass doors.