Brain Curd #474
Brain Curds are barely-edited fiction, poetry, or just about anything else - drafted in a day or less. Chronolizer's Note: In 3072, it is considered unhealthy to spend too much of your time working. But then again, that's not really different from your era, is it?
Set in a far-off post-scarcity utopia, Solarpunk 3072 follows Eustace - who, like everyone else, has everything. Everything except something to do, that is.
Chairman Horne took a sip of his peppermint latte through a biodegradable straw. Harriet drew a douglas fir in the foam, which he found so charming that he dared not disturb it sooner than necessary. He exhaled and leaned back in his chair. It was a slow day - only one application on the docket, and it wasn’t scheduled for another couple minutes.
Anyone other than Hubert Crumb would have been here by now to get it over with, but that man was a stickler for detail. Tell him to arrive at one-fifteen and he won’t be a second early or late. He was notorious for counting individual sesame seeds on his hamburger buns and picking off extras with tweezers. Rumor had it, he carried a refractometer and hand-tested his soda fountains’ ratios on an hourly basis. Perhaps he was just finishing a status check now…
Mr. Crumb entered the front door of City Hall and straightened his bowtie before checking the watch on his left hand - he had two of them. His gray hair was slicked back and his gray mustache was slicked down. There was no hint of shadow on his chin or cheeks, only an impossibly clean shave. He stood right where he was, centered on the door mat, his eyes not budging from the watch.
“Mr. Crumb?” Horne called out. “We can get started -”
Crumb held up a finger. When the clock struck two, he put it down. “Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Horne.” He walked forward and held out his hand. “As you have no doubt read, I have an exciting venture to add to this fine city.”
Horne shook Crumb’s hand. “Yes, yes, I have taken a look at your application. Please, take a seat.”
“I trust everything is in order?”
“Indeed, it is… I do have some questions, however.”
“Of course. Proceed.”
“You say here that your Crumburgers location on First Street is exceptionally successful.”
“It is. There’s a line out the door at all times.”
“I’ve seen as much. Fantastic food, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
“Well worth the wait. So I do understand why you want to open another location at the vacant venue on Fourth Street…”
“Yes?”
“But myself and the committee have reservations on the matter. Is it true that you also run three other Crumburgers restaurants - in Ontario, Albuquerque, and Chicago?”
“Yes. I maintain all of them to the highest quality.”
“That you do, Mr. Crumb. And there is little doubt that you could handle a fifth restaurant. The question I find myself asking is, ‘should you?’”
Crumb lowered an eyebrow. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“No person should work too much, and I fear you may be on the precipice. Four restaurants already required special permission from the high council.”
Mr. Crumb huffed, though it was hard to tell through his stoic front. “My current locations cannot keep up with demand. What do you suggest I do?”
“Other businesspeople in your situation have found it useful to take an apprentice. Then, your apprentice can open a new location once their work is up to your standard. It’s much better than consolidation for everyone involved.”
Crumb leaned forward. “I have very exacting standards, Mr. Horne. Just where do you suggest I find an apprentice who has not already decided on their own way of doing things? Hm?”
As if by fate, Eustace burst into the building at just that moment. “Yeesh, what is the matter with people? Everybody always wants to talk to me but they never have anything nice to say!” He plopped into a seat next to his father, which sent him rolling backwards away from the desk. “Who’s this clown?”
“Eustace!” Horace Horne glared at the boy. “Don’t be rude!”
“I’m not being rude! This guy looks ridiculous! Who keeps a handkerchief in their coat pocket anymore? That is so forties. Also…” Eustace squinted in Crumb’s direction. “Why the hell do you have two watches?”
“Such that if one breaks, I will not be out of time with goings-on.”
“Wow…” Eustace put his feet up on the desk. “You need to chill out. It’s not that serious.”
“I take everything seriously,” Hubert argued. “Why else devote one’s life to anything?” He checked his pocket watch, comparing it to both wrists. “It’s nearly time for fryer-temp validation at my nearby location. Am I to take it that my application is denied?”
Horace sighed. “Yes, the committee was split and the decision came down to me. I’m sorry, Mr. Crumb.”
Crumb’s gaze turned back to Eustace. “I take it this is your progeny?”
“He is…” Horace gritted his teeth. “I’m very… proud.”
“I have a bargain, then, if you’ll hear it.”
Horace nodded.
“I shall take this boy as my apprentice. If he is not to my liking you will allot me a second restaurant in town. Deal?”
“I can’t…” Horace looked at Eustace, the poor fool. Maybe, just maybe, this call to action would be enough to finally convince his son to rise to an occasion. Any occasion. “Actually, this is a wonderful idea.”
Eustace stopped chewing on one of his father’s pencils. “Huh?”
“Give it a shot, son. It’ll be good for you.”
Eustace looked as though he were about to roll his eyes, but something behind them turned a counterweight. “Fine. I’ll go try working at Crummyburger if it’ll get you off my back.”
Penned 2025.11.19
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