Orange You Glad You Weren't Here for This?

by Jennie Hayes and Amy Hull, Natpack


Time: About 8:00 a.m. (Sleep is for war-wimps!)
Place: Natpack Hostel

Jennie stretched luxuriously, enjoying the sensation of being lazy for just a few more minutes. She allowed herself a few more moments with her eyes shut while she reflected on how her current job was almost more a fantasy one than anything she expected in the real world. Having decided that there was no need to go in today, she'd left a message with a secretary to that effect and that was that. No forms to fill out weeks in advance, and her vacation days were only limited by the number of days she needed to complete the series of studies she was working on. All in all, a perfect situation. Especially now, with a all the confusion of a War going on about her.

Reaching out carefully, she retrieved her glasses from the table, frowning fuzzily at the odd shape, until she realized they were her safety glasses and remembered.

A slow tear trickled from the corner of her eye as she remembered the friendly, reassuring bulk of the Natmare. She patted the place near her head where he had faithfully kept watch over her every night for the past two months, hoping against hope that he'd somehow been returned as she slept. The spot remained depressingly empty. She recalled the ransom demand she'd gotten through her e-mail the day before and allowed herself a small sigh. She still hadn't decided how to answer the previous e-mail from the Knighties, and now here was this. It was too early, nobody was prepared to deal with this many people. She really didn't see how she could honestly let the Knighties in on the Natpack's little project yet. The Natmare would simply have to remain missing for the time being.

She tried once more to pull the side-shields off her safety glasses without damaging anything, but to no avail. They were obviously meant to stay on. Not that she planned to go another day without replacing her stolen glasses, since the heavy blue frames were hardly the color or shape she wanted to wear everyday. Sighing, she went to get ready for a long day of replacing her belongings.

****

Jennie disembarked from the trolley, thinking how wonderfully accessible and easy to use Toronto's public transportation system was. She was directly in front of an hour service eyeglasses store, which fortuitously happened to be offering a lenses-free-with-frame-purchase special sale.

The exam took about the usual time, and produced the usual exclamations and head shakings over the magnitude of her prescription. The selection of frames, unlike usual, was a surprisingly quick process. Jennie had only to walk past the racks once to choose the exact pair of frames she wanted. Leaving her choice with the clerk, she embarked on a shopping trip; the Merc-induced absence of clean clothing dictated that she would have to replace her wardrobe with at least enough to last a few days.

As Jennie began to walk through the nearby Eaton Center, her eyes lit up in ecstacy. She thought about how nice it was that the stores had their autumn stocks in--almost everything for sale, both casual and dressy, could be found in orange. Most items came in a pattern that included the color and many were even manufactured in unrelieved orange. There were pale, yellowish oranges, deep melony hues, brownish autumn oranges, bright construction-cone orange clothes, and even (on the summer clearance racks) electric fluorescent oranges. The hunting clothes were especially nice, she thought.

Soon Jennie had accumulated far more than she would need for a mere few days. There was a fluorescent orange windbreaker with matching canvas tennis shoes and baseball cap, all of which she was wearing. There was a matching t-shirt and leggings with a lovely mottled pattern of various oranges and some brown, which she was also wearing. Her bulging shopping bags contained t-shirts, nightshirts, dresses, pants, sweats, hair accessories, jewelry, dress shoes, tights, skirts, makeup, purses, and other items in various shades of orange.

Jennie suddenly spotted an ad in a hair salon for a discount on hair color. That was what she still needed! She started into the shop, then paused. The Pack had said such nice things about that shop from yesterday. She should go there. They had done such a lovely job on Maureen's hair, after all.

Jennie headed for the hairdresser, stopping on the way to pick up her new glasses. She was momentarily puzzled at the odd looks the clerks gave her, but dismissed it as she looked at the always amazing scene of the world through new lenses. Deciding that her next stop was urgent, Jennie hailed a cab and was delivered in short order to the hair salon.

She made an appointment to have her hair colored, then spent the ten minute wait flipping through the books for the perfect shade.

"Jennie?" A man came out to the waiting area and queried, looking directly at her.

"Uh-huh," she mumbled as she levered herself out of the chair and brought the book she'd found the perfect shade in over to him. Once he had her settled in a chair, she held the book open to the page she'd selected.

"Can you," she squeaked, and cleared her throat. "Can you get my hair that color? I think it's exactly what I need!" she grinned, almost mesmerized by the picture of the hair in the book.

"I can, but it's likely to fade quickly and need frequent touchups. It will need careful maintaining, and if it's not properly maintained the repairs will be pretty expensive. It's also expensive if you decide you don't like it after all," he cautioned, after giving her a strange look.

"Are you saying you think it would be a bad idea?" Jennie's hands were trembling, and she buried them under the cape-thingy around her neck (which, she noted with disapproval, was not orange...) /He'd better not disapprove of my color!/ she thought with a flare of temper.

But all he said was, "I just thought you should know of certain potentialities."

/OK, he's probably all right./ she thought.

"We can actually do a wide range of colors with very little damage to the hair, nowadays," he continued, "welcome to the wonderful world of high technology." He began to run his fingers through the hair to check the texture. "You have a lot more hair than it appears at first glance, but it's very fine, so we'll have to be extra-careful."

*****

Some time later, Jennie had said a slightly dazed farewell to the man, paid the receptionist and bounced happily out into the bright afternoon sunlight.

The receptionist rolled her eyes at the departing figure and turned to the stylist, "I bet you had to work to get that, huh?"

"And what I did, I did because it's my job," he replied, deadpan. "Is there a full moon or something? After that...uh...group we had, yesterday, I'm thinking there must be!"

*****

Jennie paused to admire her new image in a storefront she was passing. Her hair was just a shade lighter than the frames of her glasses, which were a translucent version of the brilliant orange of the missing Natmares. When the light shone through the frames it was like having one of the Natmares hovering just out of sight, watching over her like some sort of guardian angel. The occasional glimpse of her hair when she turned her head was very reassuring and exciting as well. And on top of it all, she had gotten to spend over an hour with sigh his Yumminess' spitting image. All in all, a fabulous day. It was about time to head home, now.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted something down a side street that merited further investigation. Following that lead, she found a workman setting up to do some sort of surveying work. But it was his attire that had her complete attention.

"Excuse me, sir?" She tapped him on the shoulder.

Startled, he turned around. "Yes, miss?"

"Where do you get those coveralls? They're wonderful! I just HAVE to have a pair, right away! I don't suppose I could buy yours?" She held up a few bills from her purse.

The man's eyes were suspicious, but they got very big when he saw the money she was holding out. "Well, if you're that anxious to get a pair, I think I have some clean ones in the truck that ought to fit you just fine..." he began.

*****

"Hallo! I'm back! Miss me?" Came Jennie's voice from the vicinity of the front door. Natpack voices could be heard in one of the other rooms, so she headed in that general direction.

"Miss who?" came the expected response.

"Thank you!" she answered in a dry tone, bouncing into the living room where several people lounged in quiet conversation. "Look at this! Isn't this a great outfit? Don't I look just like Luke Skywalker in this?" she asked them, modelling the neon orange coveralls.

They just stared.

[War Stories]