potions and portals (short story)

The girl did not look up when she entered her father's workshop. Her office had become a home of sorts, but she felt that it wasn't the same as being at home. She knew that she would be moving sometime, so she had grown accustomed to her new surroundings.

Stepping off the runner right in the center of the room, she knew that it was time to finish her chores so she could get on with the day. She turned on the air sweeper with a press of a button that was mounted on the wall next to it and began to polish the ceiling. The U-shaped device worked in a centrifugal motion, sucking debris and debris onto the bottom side. Then, the device deposited the load in a funnel above her. Without even a short break, the girl never stopped from polishing.

The device worked quickly, and within a minute she had cleaned the whole room. She turned it off and dropped the polish into a bin that was located between the machine and the rest of the room. It was time to start brewing the potions.

She walked over to a shelf on the far side of the room and reached up to grab the four blue bottles that were sitting on it. Then she counted to herself, thinking out loud. One, two, three, four. Grabbing the funnel from the shelf next to it, she capped each of the vials she had with a cork stopper. She dropped them into the funnel and grabbed one of the empty vials that were sitting in a box next to the funnel. The girl inserted a glass marble into the funnel, followed by a paper funnel inside the glass one. She covered it with a small, metal plate, and then began cranking the large handle of the apparatus.

She knew that four potions meant four grinds, and so the potion would not be very strong. She did not need to worry about that, though, because it would all be the same when she gave it to the client. She would just say that they all had a weak abdomen, and it was just the nature of working as a farm hand. Once the glass marbles were in a fine powder, she slipped each of the bottles into the funnel, followed by the powder. Next, she capped each of the bottles with a small cork, which she pushed into the bottle with a pair of pliers.

She looked up at the wall, where she knew there was a small portal to space. She held one of the bottles of potion up to it and was sucked through the portal. The bottle dropped through the air like a feather, but far faster. When it landed on the rooftop of a nearby building, she knew to place it back up against the portal and wait for it to be transported to the client.

When she returned to the workshop, she checked her list of potions and began to mix the other three that had not been done yet. She worked steadily and methodically, cleaning each of the parts of the potion making machine with a rag after she was done with each batch. She had done this so many times before and could do it without thinking about it.

Once she had all three potions poured into their bottles, she picked them all up at once, corked them and dropped them into the swirling vortex that lead to the roof of a building nearby. She then turned to her work table and started the two remaining potions over by hand. The potion was pretty basic and really only required the blender and an air-tight container.

After both were finished, she corked them alike and repeated the mixing and pouring. After the last bottle was placed in the air vent, she took the flask, which held the powder, up to the portal and pressed the bottle into the portal. This would lead to the shop where the buyer is situated. Once she was back in the workshop, she began to clean and polish all the mechanisms she had used. Once the machine had been cleaned, she placed it up against the portal and pressed the button that sparked the mold. Two minutes later, the molded plates of steel were in her hands. She removed the steel plugs from each of them and withdrew the vials from their wires with pliers. She placed each of them in the nearest chemical hood and set the timer for two hours.

It was payday.

She grabbed her safepouch and her money pouch. She then placed the pouch around her waist, tying it in the back. When she was done, she exited the workshop and went to the storage container at the end of the street. She crawled through the vent, making sure not to make any loud sounds. The noise had only grown louder since she had been here.

She hardly ever thought about her family or her guardians. She knew they were gone. She didn't know how they were gone, and she wasn't sure how they were even gone. She did not even know if they were dead. She thought perhaps they had moved away, never to be seen again. The thought saddened her, but she knew she had to move on. She could not live her life waiting for the day when she would see them once again.

She had to get through life the best she could, she thought to herself. I would be doing them proud, thinking like that. She then climbed up the ladder and out of the storage container.

She felt sick as she crawled through the empty, dark streets. She felt like someone was watching her, as always. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she turned around. She saw nothing. Just more of the same, she said to herself. She stepped off the ladder and on to the street. She knew she could not be late again.

She could hear the humming of techno-future sounds and she knew she was getting close to the shop. She also knew it was not quite payday, so she figured there would be no clients inside when she entered. She tried to avoid them whenever she could.

She knocked three times on the side of the shop and waited a few seconds. When she knocked again, there was a clang of metal. The door was opened by a man that was probably three or four inches shorter than her. He had black hair and piercing blue eyes. His shirt was sprinkled with pepper, and he was a man that most women would kill for.

"Hello!" he said, smiling. "How can I help you?" he asked.

"Hi," the girl said softly, "I'm here for the shipment. I made a…error."

"Oh?" he asked, looking around. "Why are you here at this hour? Have you been hanging around here, skipping late on your payments?"

"No," she said. She didn't want to owe him money.

"Follow me," he said and stepped in front of her into a room. She stepped in behind him, the door closing behind her. The room was small and crowded with small tables and vials. Each was labeled with an identifying mark, and they were all connected to a speaker system that had what sounded like a chorus of angels singing in the background. Giant fans worked overtime to keep the air circulating.

"Take a seat," he said, waving his arm at one of the tables.

She sat down, folding her hands in her lap under the table.

"We can make an arrangement," he said, producing a notepad and a pen from a drawer and setting them down on the table.

"I am sorry, but I have none of the materials to make this product." she said, looking down at her folded hands.

"Well, that is going to be…problematic." he said, looking at her over the top of his glasses.

"I do not want to owe you more money," she said.

"I know where you work. I am a spokesperson," he said, turning to face the door. He then smiled.

"How did you find me?" she asked, looking at the door.

"Your guardians. They told me you would be leaving soon. I corrected them."

"How could they be wrong?" she asked, looking at him again.

"They can be wrong and still get a story right."

"I do not understand…I think I do not want to owe you any more money," she said, looking at the notepad and pen on the table.

"No. We are friends, so I will make an…proposal. We can enter into an agreement. You will not owe me any more money until the shipment is completed."

"If the …product is complete…I will fulfill my obligations?" she asked, looking at the table.

"Sure. We will have trade agreements in place. As sure as the hour, the shipment is completed."

"I cannot…"

"We hold no such assurances. This can be a mutually beneficial arrangement. I will be the only one paying you bribes, none of your other…advisers."

"Yes, we have…made deals," she said, pencil poised to take notes.

"We can do this?" he asked, looking between her and the notepad.

She stopped writing and looked at the clock.

"Yes. By the time…the shipment is complete, no more payments will be needed. I will fulfill my obligations as stated in the agreement."

"Fantastic! We will stay in touch."

"As we said, I will fulfill my obligations as stated in the agreement." she said, looking at the notes she had made. She uncapped the pen and added, "By the time the shipment is complete, no more payments will be needed."

"Upon confirmation of delivery," he said, adding some notes of his own. "We will be world leaders in this industry."

"Yes, we will be," she said, smiling.

"I think we are both satisfied."

"I look forward to it. It is as good as done. It will be finished."

"Of course, it will be finished. The shipment is completed."

"Yes. The shipment is finished," she said, smiling.

"Good. I look forward to working with you."

"Yes," she said. "I look forward to working with you, too."

"If you are finished, I have a store to open. Come on, anyone that arrives by nightfall walks to our, how does that phrase go again? The funny one. We will not be late."

"Funny," she said, standing from her seat. She picked up the notepad and pen and put them in a drawer.

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