“Our orders were to take over the town because it fit the requirements and needs for the experiment. We’ve had failures in recent months trying to find a cure for the virus. The difference in this experiment was that we had the people plant, harvest, and eat the planted grains. We had scientists from all over the world living right in the town with the people. They worked day and night in the most spectacular lab…” Washington paused for a moment to drink his coffee.

Washington begins again as he gazes at the jukebox. “The scientists and the people of the town did absolutely everything involved with the virus. The people planted the grain, harvested the grain, and then ate the grain. Everything went according to plan. We thought we had the cure. There were pregnancies, and some women even carried their baby to full term. The soldiers did not have a high rate of suicide or some type of mental break down. Then there were the fields, but the soldiers had something else… maybe it was the many years of wearing the suit and not having any real physical contact… but that too is not a problem that can’t be solved,” Washington releases a long, deep sigh. He seems extremely weary. Everyone sits riveted to the story because Washington is physically huge and convincing even though the tale is so crazy.

“The fields are alive and have become the problem,” Washington says.

“The suit?” Minnow asks in full bewilderment. “What suit? Why would a suit cause a soldier to commit suicide?”

“The suit. The suit is the uniform. It is our second skin. It does everything for us. Ah… ah…” Washington’s voice and concentration trail off again.

Sammy immediately sees that Minnow is not understanding about the suit. She attempts to explain, “My husband hasn’t been wearing his suit for over a year. His body is having a hard time adjusting to not being protected. I don’t know how to explain it in medical terms. I just know that his immune system has to work extra hard right now. I know that the scientists were giving him injections to help build back up his immune system. The suit kept him at a constant body temperature, and it stopped any virus or a bacterium that was harmful. I mean, he wasn’t sick and never even had a headache the entire time he wore the suit. But now, as you can see, he is having a rough time.” Sammy tries to make Minnow understand while attempting to soothe Washington at the same time.

“Yeah, he looks to be in pretty bad shape. Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? Gilly may not look like it, but he can cook up a storm,” Minnow is genuine in his concern.

“You know, some soup might be a good idea. Does Gilly make soup? Honey, do you have the medicine for the injections?” Sammy asks.

Without missing a beat Gilly brings a bowl of soup. “Don’t want you to think I was eavesdropping, but I heard Minnow tell you that I have soup. Chicken soup is my specialty. My grandpa taught me how to make it. Everyone thinks that it is the chicken  that is the secret, but that’s not it—not it at all,” Gilly sets the steaming bowl of soup in front of Washington then digs a huge spoon out of his apron and hands it to him.
Washington grabs the spoon weakly. Gilly smiles a warm friendly smile. “You know, it is the special ingredients of spices, tears, and love that make it work,” Gilly says this last line to the little girls.

“Really? You know how to put love in the soup?” asks Ruth.

“No Ruthy-ooey, he can’t put love in soup, but he can put tears in soup,” says Esther with authority.

“I really don’t like being called Ruthy-ooey and you know it! I know he can put tears in soup. All he needs to do is cry and let the tears drop in the soup, but explain how he puts love in the soup. Messy-essie,” Ruth replies, not to be one-upped by her twin sister.

“Girls! This is not the time or place to argue,” Sammy grabs a hold of their small frail arms. “Thank you, Gilly and sorry about the outburst.”

“Kids are kids and their thoughts are not to be harnessed—yet,” he says.

“Don’t thank him until your husband eats the soup. Then, if he doesn’t die, thank him.” It is evident that Minnow has a deep affection for Gilly.

“I don’t see how you’ve been any worse for the wear after eating my food,” Gilly says to Minnow.

“Well, thank you anyway,” says Sammy with a smile. She rummages in her bag and brings out a small spiral notebook as if she is about to start taking notes. This behavior shows a routine. It is a characteristic of a habit held over from her previous career. She begins flipping through the pages, then becomes distracted by her children again and lays down the small spiral notebook on the table. The page that is flipped open begins with the sentence Am I good enough?

“Daddy, can we have some coins to play the music?” Ruth asks in a soft voice.
Minnow shoves over the change lying on the table. “Here, girls. Play as many songs as you can. I love all kinds of music.”

“Thank you very much. Is there a special song you like?” Esther asks as she grabbing the coins.

“No, like I said, I like all music. But Gilly, he likes the swing music. Play something by Glen Miller or Duke Ellington,” Minnow explains to both of the girls.

“We can do that! We like swing music too! Mommy has shown us how to dance to it—it’s fun to dance too!” Ruth twirls toward the jukebox.

“Thank you. They have been so cooped up for so long I am afraid they have forgotten manners and shyness,” Sammy offers as an apology.

“I love kids. I have kids of my own. I even have some grandkids,” Minnow says with pride. “I have some pictures. Want to see them? In fact, I should show you my grandson. He is the reason I have this…”

Washington stops eating his soup and interrupts Minnow, but seems to be unaware that he did so. “Do you have any questions? I know the story sounds farfetched. I don’t remember if I explained about the infertility and soldier’s suicides though. I can tell you for sure that we conquered the virus, but at what cost is the conquering? We tried to go by the manual as much as possible but we still didn’t win completely,” Washington places his hand on the manual almost as if in the middle of a prayer.

“You’re right. Your story does sound a little crazy, but this is a time of crazy things. I’m not exactly certain what you want me to do with this story,” answers Minnow.

“Just do what you do—tell the story. Be sure you tell everyone about the fields. We all have our jobs to do in life,” Washington says in a pleading tone. The music has filled the Rocketship Café. “In the Mood” by Glen Miller helps Gilly wash the dishes in the kitchen. The girls dance together in front of the jukebox and laugh.

“Mommy and Daddy come dance with us!” Ruth and Esther stretch their hands out to entice their parents to come to them. Sammy stands up and pulls Washington to his feet. They sway to the music, then Washington takes Sammy away with a small flourish.

“I will always love you. I will love all of our children.” Washington murmurs in her ear as he strokes her belly. Sammy does not answer, but stifles a small sob and smiles with relief. Her relief is short lived.

“I know you will. I know…” Sammy replies, her voice deeply confident of this knowledge.

When the music stops they all walk back to the table. Washington leans heavily on Sammy as he places money on the table. The girls run to the back kitchen and say goodbye to Gilly and give him a hug and a kiss. Then, as if caught up in a tornado, the girls run to Minnow and repeat their routine—a goodbye, hug, and a kiss. The girls don’t seem to notice August sitting slightly ajar at the counter.

Washington shakes Minnow’s hand but does not say goodbye, “The suit is just as bad as the virus. At least with the virus, we knew it was made to kill people. The suit was made to help the modern day soldier and all it did was eat away at my body and almost destroyed my mind. The suit protects us but it is like our body gets lazy and stops working and becomes dependent on the suit. Then when I took off the suit I felt like there were times I was losing my mind. I can’t explain why this happened I just know it did and it scares me. I don’t like not having control of my own thoughts.”

“Then there are the fields…” Sammy cuts Washington off.

“Come on honey, we need to get far away before they know we have left,” Sammy tugs at Washington’s arm.

“I know, honey, but we need to make sure that the story gets out and that people learn the truth. Remember the fields,” Washington says as though he is giving a sermon. He salutes Gilly who nods in return and then gives a salute as well. Though Gilly never told Washington he had been in the military, both men knew. Sammy smiles at them both. As Sammy walks behind the girls, she twists to close the door. As an afterthought, she spies a man sitting at the counter drinking coffee. He looks familiar. Sammy stops for just a second to look, and at the same moment the man at the counter turns ever so slightly and winks at her. She nods, but only enough so that he could see. August sighs a breath of relief—she saw him. The family walks out the door to the truck and leaves just as they came—in a puff of dust.