The Meatfields: Chapter Three: Later That Day

Later That Day
"Is this one of your slice-of-life vignettes?" I asked, holding up a slightly squalid piece of science-fiction I had found amongst the "literary snapshots". But she didn't answer me. She just looked at me like she was going to puke. God that made me sad. Why do I feel the need I treat her this way? But then again, what did I care?
It was finally friday afternoon, friday after class, friday after week. Finally it was friday, and all I wanted was to be a non-thing, to be nothing, to sink into an obscure nothingness for one evening and damn the sunrise. This is what I thought, and I thought it thinking that this was probably how Sarah thinks about things- all dramatic and shit.
Later I heard her shower running and her music blaring from upstairs. Had we both not been creatures of habit I wouldn't have thought anything of it, but usually- and especially in light of the last 48 hours- by now the only thing to be heard from her side of the house was the clickety clack of the computer keys, as she tried in vain to atone for the mediocrity of her life and it's myriad of failures. But not so this night! This night I found her primping and curling like the rest of us, preening and pawing and preparing for a night of youthful reveling. That's what I saw, though I approached carefully, the disbelief obvious in my voice:
"Sooo..." I tried to act casual, leaning against her half open door, checking my fingernails, "Are you coming out with us tonight or what?" I tried to make it sound like the answer was in the question, like "duh, of course your coming because that's what we do right?" But it came across as slightly patronizing, I'm sure. But she took it in stride.
"Yeah, I thought I might- why not? It's been awhile. Like you said: I need a break." She was putting her hair up as she spoke, her actions and inflection looked and sounded normal, but the response seemed slightly programmed, like she had something up her sleeve. Regardless, I was pleased, and my smile that I'm sure she saw in the mirror was genuine.

The Meatfields, Chapter Two
I could never bring myself to believe in The Scientist. I don't know what it was- my folks didn't raise me with any clear affinity towards belief or disbelief- it was just something I couldn't really swallow. I mean: how could someone- one man, design all of this: us, the meatstalks, the skittlebugs, everything- out of nothing? It just didn't make sense to me, but I wasn't a zealot- I saw very little harm in it- it was more a motivational factor than anything: folks who believed in The Scientist tried harder, it seemed, to do their job or help people, etc. So how can that be bad? I suppose someday I'll really sit down and think about it, I should probably have an open mind about it, anyway.
It was Renda, a 3rd Tier, who got me thinking about it, though not in a positive way. It was more like I couldn't help but think about it because this annoying bitch wouldn't stop blabbing and blabbing about The War and The Desolation and The Genesis and The Scientist. It was almost Twilight, and there we were, trying to enjoy the Starset before bunktime and here was this girl ruining it for all of us.
"Did you know- at least this is what I heard-" she was saying in a too-loud voice to some 2nd Tier disciple of hers, "that the Skittlebugs were modeled after a type of candy they say The Scientist ate when he was our age?"
"What the hell is candy?" some sucker chimed in.
"I have no idea- but The Scientist loved it, especially the kind called "Skittles"- and that's why they're especially beloved by folks who follow Him." She sounded like she knew what she was talking about- but the person who told her had been clueless.
"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard." A fourth tier said. "If I hear one more stupid story about candy and bugs and mythical characters, I think I'm going to puke. Besides, you shouldn't be forcing your beliefs on other people."
But this didn't stop her- she knew her rights, and the look on her face told us all that. She kept on until finally some kid said that he'd go to her Scientist meeting if she'd just stop blabbing. The look on her face was the kind that someone who tricked you had when you thought you'd won when really they had, and it made me uncomfortable.