Carol visits the Out-of-Time Cafe

Seattle, Washington. America. Earth. The Milky Way. Somewhere in the Universe. Probably.


It was raining.


Carol trudged down the muddy street, lost in thought, Sprite following at her heels.


It had not been what you would call a successful week. An amnesiac alien, a mystery bet with an entire mountain as collateral and an entire pack of mail-order brides. How did it all fit together?


Carol hadn’t the foggiest. It was late and she was cold and tired. What she really needed was a hot cup of something and somewhere to clear her head.


A sign up ahead caught her eye, bright neon light reflected in the gathering pools of water.


“The Out-of-Time Cafe”


Well, it was as good a place as any. Although the “retro” design seemed to be about fifty years too early for where and when she was.


Great, Carol thought to herself, another mystery. At least there weren’t any signs saying Sprite couldn’t come in.


A bell rang as Carol pushed the front door and was immediately hit by the strong scent of roasting coffee beans and the muffled sounds of Frank Sinatra.


She was in a short hallway, a counter with the cash register sitting on top of it directly in front of her. To her right was a small dining room for parties, the darkened lights and chairs stacked on tables clearly saying it was too late to be used. So she instead turned left, into the still-brightly lit front.


Booths lined the outside wall, while stools lined the counter. The walls were decorated with pithy signs (“C.o.f.f.e.e: Christ Offers Freedom to Everyone, Everywhere”, “Unattended children will be sold to the Circus”, etc). The floor was a classic chessboard design and the jukebox in the corner was still playing “Fly me to the Moon”.


A figure was busying themselves in the kitchen, though Carol noted that her mind was actively trying to forget what they looked like as soon as she looked away. She forced herself to concentrate and get a good look at the person, a suspiciously normal looking middle-aged woman.


“Be with you in a second, Dear” The woman called, without looking out at Carol.


Carol thanked the strangely unmemorable woman and took a seat on one of the stool, looking around at the other patrons.


The Cafe was surprisingly full for this late at night: there was an entire family of nine, packed into one booth. The kids, none of them older than five by the looks of it, were all asleep, as was what must have been the Dad, a thin man with unruly hair, a pointed nose and a kid nestled in either arm. The mother, a much shorter woman with fiery red hair and a charming smile, was still awake, cradling an infant while mouthing along to Sinatra.


The booth next to theirs was occupied by a single woman, clad in a flowing scarlet cloak, and deep in meditation. Whoever she was, she was making all the condiments on her table (Not to mention her own self) float.


The booth on the far side of the room had two women, both very similar in build and short blonde hair, though the one with her back turned to Carol sported some visible cybernetics “additions”. Her companion, laughing quietly over something the other had said, was dressed in casual wear, or at least what would have passed for it in the medieval ages.


There was only one other guest in the Cafe, sitting several stools down from Carol. The man was wearing a tasteless tweed vest and looked like he would be a head taller than Carol herself if he stood up straight, but right now he was bent over a book called “History of the Japanese-Apache War”, half finished milkshake sitting nearby.


“Here you go” The Cafe owner cheerily interrupted Carol’s observations, setting a steaming mug of coffee and plate of jellied toast that she had not actually ordered in front of her.


The private detective eyed them suspiciously: it was exactly what she had been thinking of ordering.


One set of mysteries at a time, she told herself as she handed a ten to the woman. It may have been a trick of the light, but Carol could swear she saw the green bill transform into a golden coin just as the woman put it into the register, and then the gold she withdrew from it turn into smaller green bills as Carol was handed her change.


No one else in the Cafe seemed bothered. Well, when in Rome.


“Ma’am?” Carol asked, jumping when the owner smiled back at her: despite her best efforts, she had already forgotten what the lady looked like already. “Is this food safe for, er, Muggles?”


“Of course Dear!” The woman replied warmly. “My food is safe for everyone. Actually, pardon my manners, let me get something for your friend. On the house for the newcomers”


She returned with a plate of sausage she set down for Sprite. Carol and companion exchanged looks before shrugging and digging in. The toast was good (As was the sausage, judging from Sprite’s eager reaction). The coffee was terrible though.


Carol let her mind wander back to the case, despite the eerie, oddly comforting surroundings. Eventually, the Dad had to get up and take one of the kids to the restroom (Though Carol was pretty sure the groggy man was still asleep). The two blonde women, sisters Carol guessed, must have had no plans to leave anytime soon, as the owner came out unprompted and left another round of coffees on their table, graciously accepting their tip.


The tall man with the bad vest finally closed his book and got up, walking towards the door. He took down a broadsword from where everyone else had hung up their umbrellas, nodded to the owner and walked out into the rain.


“Difficult man, that one” Carol overheard the owner mutter. “Only one who ever needs a menu”


Carol sighed. As pleasant as this break had been, she really needed to get back to work. Or bed, one of the two. With a quiet whistle to the well-fed Sprite she got to her feet, waved goodbye to the owner and left, just as Sinatra began “Still Alive”.


Carol did a double take as soon as she was back out on the street. Instead of mainstreet, she was now in the outskirts of Seattle, right in front of the hall of records she had decided to investigate next.


She glanced suspiciously back at the Cafe. It was as brick solid as it had ever looked, neon sign glowing in the dark and the Red Cloaked woman now peacefully floating upside down.





With a shake of her head Carol plunged back into her work.