The Creature Department

by Robert Paul Weston

  Famous Freddy’s Dim Sum Emporium Best pork dumplings this side of Taipei!

  Elliot stared at the sandwich board. He wasn’t terribly impressed. In fact, if he were completely honest, he might say Famous Freddy’s Dim Sum Emporium looked a little sketchy.

  Elliot opened the doors and saw two flights of broad marble stairs. Climbing them, he sniffed what smelled like a hundred different scents.

  Spicy . . . salty . . . sour . . . sweet . . .

  His stomach grumbled.

  At the top of the stairs, the entrance was curtained off by strings of dark green beads. It was impossible to see inside.

  Elliot hesitated. This wasn’t the sort of restaurant he expected to find. It certainly didn’t seem very welcoming.

  “Anytime you’re ready,” said a woman’s voice on the far side of the beads.

  “H-hello?” Elliot answered.

  “Are you coming in or not? Right now all you’re doing is blocking the entrance.” The woman’s voice was forceful and brusque.

  “I’m looking for . . . Leslie?”

  “Elvis Presley? Try the karaoke bar, two doors down.”

  “Not ‘Presley.’ Leslie.”

  “Fresh tea? Of course we serve fresh tea! Get in here and try some. You’ll see how fresh it is!”

  “I’m just here because I’m looking for Leslie Fang. She’s my friend.”

  There was a pause while whoever was on the other side of the beads considered this information.

  “Wait a minute,” said the voice. “It’s you!”

  A hand burst through the beads and grabbed Elliot by the strap of his knapsack, yanking him into the restaurant.

  The hand was connected to a long, elegant arm, which in turn was connected to a tall, slender woman with long black hair. She wore no makeup and was plainly dressed in a simple black-and-white uniform: black shoes, black pants, and a white button-up shirt. Even still, Elliot thought she was quite pretty—for a grown-up.

  “Have you been smooching with my daughter?” she asked.

  Elliot was so shocked by this question he would have fallen over if it weren’t for the woman gripping so fiercely to the strap of his bag.

  “W-w-what?!” he cried. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

  “Oh, I think you do.” She was pointing a finger right in Elliot’s face and speaking through gritted teeth. “How do you explain the fact that my Leslie woke up this morning happy and bubbly and skipping—skipping—around the house?!” The woman lowered her voice. “My Leslie is never bubbly.”

  “Wait,” said Elliot. “You’re Leslie’s mom?”

  The woman nodded slowly. “And you, you little Casanova! You must be Elliot.” She shook her head. “You’re all she’s been talking about since she got up this morning.”

  “Me?”

  “You and some crazy uncle of yours, the one who works at that weird company.”

  “DENKi-3000,” Elliot said. He stood up a little straighter, which was difficult because Leslie’s mother was pulling so hard on his knapsack. “And my uncle is not crazy. He’s a genius.”

  “Is that so? Because from what I hear, even his own company doesn’t know what goes on in that research department of his. Or maybe I oughta call it a mad scientist’s lab!” She pulled Elliot closer until they were almost nose to nose. “Anyone with that many secrets can’t be right in the head.”

  “You can’t say that about Uncle Archie! You’ve never even met him!”

  Leslie’s mother pursed her lips. “Maybe so, but this isn’t about him. It’s about you. And all I have to say to you is: My daughter is much too young for smooching!”

  “No, wait! You’ve got it all wrong! I’m twelve! I hate smooching! I would never, ever smooch with Leslie in a million years!”

  “Don’t be so sure.” Leslie’s mother narrowed her eyes and looked at him sideways. “A million years is a long time.”

  Elliot didn’t know what to say. “Why does everyone think Leslie is like my . . . guh . . . gir . . . g-g-gir . . .” It was ridiculous. He couldn’t even say the word.

  “Girlfriend? I knew it!”

  “No!” Elliot protested, but he realized there was little he could do to convince the woman, so he decided to change his strategy. “The thing is, my uncle gave us a tour of his laboratory. He just wanted to teach us about, you know, science. And he made it really interesting for us, that’s all.”

  Parents loved it when their kids learned anything about science. If you did well in science class, you could practically set fire to the principal’s office and no one would care. You would even have a ready-made excuse. It was for a science project, sir, I swear.

  “Science?” whispered Leslie’s mother. There was a sudden air of reverence in her voice. She relaxed her death grip on Elliot’s knapsack. (The plan was working.) “You’re interested in science?”

  Elliot nodded. “I’m like Einstein, only smaller. And with better hair. Also, no mustache.”

  Leslie’s mother folded her arms. “Wait a second. If you’re a scientist, why are you dressed like a fisherman?”

  “Mo-om!” Leslie called, entering the room through a pair of double doors in the back corner. “I told you not to mention the vest.”

  Elliot looked at Leslie. “What’s wrong with my vest?’

  “Nothing,” Leslie answered. “It’s lovely. Now, come on. You gotta meet my grandpa.”

  CHAPTER 8

  In which a profound connection is established between friendship and food

  Elliot had been so busy fending off questions from Leslie’s mother, he hadn’t had time to appreciate the interior of the restaurant. It was larger than he expected. A low ceiling sagged above an enormous room filled with many, many tables—all empty.

  One wall contained a large aquarium floating with enormous goldfish, while the other three were hung with variations on a single painting: misty mountains descending into deep green lakes. Dangling from the ceiling were paper lanterns and multicolored Christmas lights.

  “I want you both to know,” said Leslie’s mother, still standing near the entrance, “the only reason I’m letting you two go today is because you have a chaperone.”

  “A who?” asked Leslie.

  “Grandpa Freddy,” said her mother. “I already talked to him. He’s there to make sure there’s no smooching.”

  Leslie rolled her eyes. “Trust me, Mom, you have nothing to worry about.” She led Elliot to the double doors in the corner. When they swung open, a great puff of steam wafted out and Elliot was momentarily blinded.

  “So,” croaked a voice from within the fog, “this is Archie’s nephew, is it?”

  Elliot blinked to clear his vision. He faced an enormous but extremely cluttered kitchen. Plates, pots, and pans were piled everywhere.

  The croaking voice had come from an old man, stooped and bald and all dressed in white: white shoes, white pants, white apron, and a white triangular hat that clung magically to the man’s entirely hairless head.

  “Elliot von Doppler,” said Leslie, “meet Famous Freddy.”

  “Nice to meet you,” the old man rasped, stepping forward to shake hands. With his bald head and long, wrinkly neck, he reminded Elliot of a smiling old tortoise. “Leslie tells me that uncle of yours finally revealed his secret.”

  Elliot nodded. “But you’ve known about them—about the creatures,” he whispered, “for a long time, haven’t you?”

  “Not too long,” said the old man. He turned away from Elliot, apparently as a way to change the subject. “We’d better start loading the van. They hate it when I’m late.”

  Famous Freddy’s delivery truck was a huge white trailer hitched to the back of a rusty red Volkswagen. It seemed impossible such a puttering old junker could tow something that big, especially when it was packed to the ceiling with
so much food.

  When they arrived at DENKi-3000, Elliot recognized the man at the security gate as Carl, the friendly guard they had met the day before.

  “Hey there, Freddy,” said Carl, waving from inside his security booth. “You got something in there for me today?”

  Grandpa Freddy leaned across to the glove compartment. He opened it and Elliot caught a whiff of something delicious. It was a small cardboard box, painted to resemble bamboo, just like the ones loaded in the trailer.

  “Your favorite,” said Grandpa Freddy, passing the box through the window.

  Carl (who was quite a large man) giggled like a baby. He opened the box and immediately popped one of the pork dumplings into his mouth. “Deeeee-lish!” he said, swallowing the mouthful. “Lemme tell you, Freddy—you are not famous enough!”

  Having gulped down the first dumpling, Carl leaned out of his booth to peer into the car. “Hello again,” he said, giving Elliot and Leslie a small salute. “Back for another visit, huh? You two are a couple of very lucky kids!”

  Leslie’s grandpa steered them all the way around the building to a steep ramp that went deep under the ground. The ramp soon became a tunnel illuminated with strips of yellow lights.

  Eventually, they came to a dead end. A metal wall stood before them, pocked with rivets and mounted with a sign: CAUTION: RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT PERSONNEL ONLY!

  “Now what?” Leslie asked her grandfather.

  “Not to worry,” Freddy croaked. “I come here so much they gave me my own ID.” He plucked it out of his breast pocket and held it up, showing off a job title as odd as any of the others in the Creature Department:

  Alfred Fang

  Movable Feastician

  He swiped his ID badge and what had been a dead end was dead no more. The wall split and slid away, just like the entrance to the old mansion. From there on there were no yellow strips of light. The only illumination was the old Volkswagen’s headlights.

  It was so dark, in fact, it was difficult to see the edges of the road. On the driver’s side, where Famous Freddy sat, they occasionally saw the wall of what looked more and more like a craggy, underground cave. On the passenger side, however, there was no such wall. Only darkness.

  Famous Freddy drove on this way for a while until they came to yet a second dead end, this one even more convincing than the last: It was just an uneven wall of pocked gray stone. The old man opened his door to get out, and following suit, Leslie did the same.

  “No!” Lightning quick (and surprisingly fast for an old tortoise of a man), her grandfather whipped out his arm to grab her. “We’re not there yet!” Then, very gravely, he whispered, “Close the door.”

  The sudden seriousness of Freddy’s voice startled them. Elliot and Leslie couldn’t help peering into the darkness below.

  A sprinkling of coppery rust had shaken loose when Leslie opened it. The rust, catching the diffuse light from the car, fell . . .

  and fell . . .

  and fell . . .

  until it flickered into nothingness.

  There was no bottom!

  Leslie slammed the door. They were parked right on the edge of what appeared to be a bottomless cliff! She turned to say something to her grandfather, but he was already getting out on the other side.

  The old man toddled to the wall, feeling along it with his hands until he found one very particular crag. He twisted a stone and a door opened up ahead of them. It led directly into a large chamber bathed in eerie green light.

  “A secret passage!” whispered Elliot. He pointed to the crag in the wall. “With a secret hidden latch!”

  Leslie agreed. “Way cooler than scanners and ID badges, that’s for sure.”

  Grandpa Freddy climbed back into the car. He eased them through the mysterious doorway and into the glowing green chamber. Once inside, the doors shut behind them, and they heard the whir of machinery. The secret passageway wasn’t just a secret passageway; it was an enormous elevator.

  The eerie green light slowly faded as they rose and rose and finally emerged on the floor of the Creature Department.

  “HOOORAY!”

  There were creatures everywhere, whistling and cheering and clapping their hands (or flippers, or tentacles, or . . . whatever).

  “Is it always like this?” Elliot asked.

  Famous Freddy smiled proudly. “Every time I deliver.”

  This explained why there were so few customers at Famous Freddy’s Dim Sum Emporium. Leslie’s grandfather didn’t need any. All his customers were creatures.

  The old man got out of the car, waving to his friends, who crowded around him as if he were a rock star (for the first time, Famous Freddy Fang really did look famous).

  Professor von Doppler battled his way through the crowd. “Welcome back, you two.” He beamed at Elliot and Leslie. “You can eat with us in the cafetarium and then we’ll get started.”

  “The where?” asked Leslie. “Don’t you mean cafeteria?”

  “Nope,” said Elliot’s uncle. “I meant what I said. The cafetarium. Probably the best place to eat in the whole universe!”

  “Why’s that?” asked Elliot.

  “You’ll understand when we get there.”

  The food was loaded onto silver trolleys and wheeled through the many corridors of the old mansion—so many, in fact, that they were quickly reminded of the seemingly impossible size of the building’s interior. When they finally arrived at their destination, an even more dramatic example of creature physics awaited them in the cafetarium.

  It was a massive room full of heavy wooden benches and tables, and in many ways, it looked like a standard, if slightly archaic, cafeteria. But then they looked up and saw what set it apart.

  “The roof!” said Elliot. “It’s a big white dome.”

  “Precisely,” said his uncle, “and that’s why we call it the cafetarium.”

  The dome was enormous. It seemed almost as big as the sky itself, spanning from one side of the dining room to the other.

  Elliot, Leslie, and her grandfather sat with the professor and were hastily joined by Patti, Harrumphrey, Gügor, and Jean-Remy.

  A group of fairy-like creatures zipped around the room, bringing packets of Famous Freddy’s food. The bamboo baskets were opened to reveal dumplings and spring rolls, bowls of sticky rice, and steamed green vegetables.

  It all smelled wonderful, but Elliot had never had dim sum before, so he hardly knew where to start.

  The creatures, however, weren’t shy at all. The moment the tables were laid, they tucked in with gusto! The huge room exploded with the sounds of chomping jaws, smacking lips, and soft slithering tongues.

  “You’d better hurry there,” said Grandpa Freddy, coming to stand behind Elliot. “If they see you’re not eating it, they’ll be quite happy to take it off your hands.”

  “Try that one,” said Leslie, pointing to a shiny round packet of pastry. “Those are Grandpa’s famous pork dumplings.”

  Fumbling with his chopsticks, Elliot managed to get the dumpling from the bamboo basket to his mouth. He hadn’t tasted anything exactly like this before, but he knew instantly why all the creatures were so crazy about Famous Freddy’s cooking.

  The dumpling was soft, spicy, and bursting with flavorful juices but without being mushy at all. It somehow made him feel good to eat it. No, it wasn’t just a good feeling. It was something deeper than that. Something wonderful he couldn’t quite describe . . .

  He looked around the room. Whatever Elliot felt, the creatures were feeling it too. They poured great loads of dumplings and spring rolls and huge heaps of steamed vegetables into their enormous (or tiny) mouths, grinning all the while.

  The sense of pure well-being he had as he ate this food was tremendous. He turned to Leslie. “You get to eat this stuff all the time?” he asked. “You have no idea h
ow jealous I am.”

  Leslie grinned. “It’s good, isn’t it? But you know what? It never tastes this good at home.”

  “It’s the miracle of eating among friends,” said Leslie’s grandfather. “After all, there’s that old saying: The more friends at the table, the better the food.”

  They ate in silence, letting a sense of contentment and friendship wash over them.

  “Ah!” said Jean-Remy. “Look there! Even ze children—zey feel it too!”

  “Feel what?” asked Elliot. “I just feel good.”

  “It’s more than that,” said Elliot’s uncle. “It’s something all creatures understand. There are some foods so tasty that—even if you’ve never tasted them before—they take you back to some happier time.” His uncle looked up. “And that’s what the ceiling is for.”

  He opened a control panel mounted in the table, and at the touch of a button, the lights dimmed and the domed roof scrolled with images.

  They looked like old photographs, many of them in sepia and black-and-white, showing creases and tears.

  “It’s like a planetarium,” the professor explained. “Hence the name, of course. Except instead of looking at the stars, you’re looking at—”

  “Memories,” Gügor intoned. The knucklecrumpler gazed wistfully upward, watching the pictures float past as he ate.

  “Gügor’s right,” said the professor. “They may look like photographs, but they’re actually memories. The cafetarium is drawing memories from each of the diners and projecting them on the ceiling. What you’re seeing now is the breadth and depth of all creaturedom.”

  The images (or memories) showed the creatures younger than they were now, usually somewhere in the outside world. There were pictures of creatures bathing on secluded beaches, hiking up mountains, and especially strolling through vast underground caves. The caves in particular were amazing—full of spectacular stalagmites and rock formations, strange, otherworldly vegetation, and eerie, flickering light.

  “You say all these places are in creaturedom, but where is that exactly?” asked Elliot.