1
The Sprague Science Center was an unusual collection of architecture that had seen better days. The collection of artifacts had not been updated in over a decade, many of the interactive displays were worn out from overuse, and the café menu had not seen a new special since the late nineties. In daylight hours, it had the look of a strange international village. At night, it looked strangely eerie in the reflections of the nearby Colombia River. It was however, a large facility with a movie theater and a beautiful glass arboretum in the classic Victorian style. All of which needed to be watched over by security guards at all times.
Persephone Timmons was at five foot two, the shortest security officer on the payroll. Her athletic frame and highly active lifestyle did little to change the opinions of many of her fellow officers. The older generation thought she had no business in security and the officers her own age were far too busy trying to bed her to notice her work ethic. She took this job in order to attend school during the day and looked forward to her graduation day. Once she was done with school, she would put this place behind her and not look back.
She walked through a service door and made her way to the security office in the basement of the main building. She had to squeeze past boxes of lost and found items that had never been reclaimed that filled the hallway. Once in the security office proper, she took a set of keys off the wall and looked at the night shift roster posted on the door. There was a private party wrapping up tonight and most of the guests had already left for the evening. Normally she would be working with a pair of other officers, but one was on vacation and the other had come down with the flu. This meant after the swing shift departed for the night, she would be on her own for the next eight hours.
"Great, just great." Persephone groaned. "Just me to watch over a campus that covers nearly two city blocks."
She collected her flashlight and security jacket before nearly running into the swing shift supervisor. The rotund man of nearly sixty was one of the most unpleasant people Persephone had the displeasure of meeting. Phil Nunez, his hygiene was on par with his disposition and left much to be desired. He hacked and coughed for a few moments, not bothering to cover his mouth before leering at Persephone.
"Oh, the littlest security guard is back for another shift." He said as he stood blocking the doorway.
"Get out of my way Phil or we will have another talk with HR." she said with vehemence.
Phil cleared his throat nosily and coughed up something unpleasant.
"Sure, little miss, I will just sit down over here." Said Phil as he squeezed past her, much to everyone's discomfort. "Oh, before you go, the boss upstairs wants us to make three sweeps of that fancy greenhouse now." Said Phil as he unsnapped his utility belt. She nearly gagged at the close proximity but said nothing more. She did not want to egg him on to some act of further unpleasantness. She quickly left the office and walked briskly to the nearest stairwell; it was time to start another long night shift.
She exited the stairwell and found herself in the section of the Science Center devoted to Pacific Northwest History. She took a moment to admire the beautifully crafted Native American ceremonial masks kept in a special display. She was fascinated by the intricate details carved into the likeness of birds, whales, and other natural features. She thought this was her favorite exhibit in the whole campus and she made time to always visit the case of masks.
She meandered past the Hall of Industry with the interactive displays of hydroelectric dams and the Manhattan Project. Most had been broken from overuse but enough remained to amuse the younger visitors. The illuminated lights of a steam turbine cast a soft glow over the exhibit. She turned off screens that played archival footage of the building of the Grand Coulee Damn that buzzed a dated soundtrack from the eighties. For some reason, this side of the Sprague Science Center always smelled of ozone and machine oil. Satisfied that nothing else remained powered on, she stepped out into the main thoroughfare and continued her patrol. The next stop was the arboretum.
2
The arboretum was not an area she spent much time in. The glass structure housed many rare plants in the carefully climate-controlled facility. To prevent unnecessary contact, the previous security manager had simply said no one was to enter after hours, however, there was a new manager which meant new rules. Now every night, a security officer was to make three walk-throughs of the arboretum, no exceptions. Every exit checked; every fire extinguisher verified.
The large door had a simple card-reader and did not require any special keys. She waved her ID badge over the card-reader and the door clicked unlocked with a soft buzz. She hefted the door open and felt a warm, fragrant breeze from inside. The scent was that of earth, wet potting soil, and something that she could not quite put her mental finger on. It was a pleasant, organic smell that seemed to tease the tip of her nose.
She entered into a sea of greenery; trees and shrubs formed a canopy above the footpath. The bright lights from the ceiling above only barely filtered down through the greenery. She passed the displays of Venus Flytraps and Pitcher Plants that always seemed to fascinate kids and adults. She walked briskly away from a young Corpse Flower that was kept in an air-conditioned case of its own. There was a little vent that someone could lift and catch a whiff of the noxious plant. The odor was enough to send Phil Nunez scurrying for a shower.
As she was rounding the walked to her first stop in the giant greenhouse, she could not help but note that the strange smell was getting stronger. It was not unpleasant like the Corpse Flower, nor the artificial burnt smell of ozone, but something fragrant and organic. She thought it must have been a new flower of some sort and she wondered if she might see it on her patrol. As she pushed through a brace of low hanging palm fronds, she heard a soft tuneless humming coming from up ahead.
3
Hunched over a mound of soil and wielding a trowel, a woman hummed a tune as she labored over a freshly plotted display. She wore a white gown that was spotted with earth and hung loosely over her shoulders. From time to time, one side would slip, and she would reach up and adjust it without breaking her concentration.
"Excuse me miss, we are closed for the night. What may I ask are you doing here?" asked Persephone in her professional tone.
The woman started in alarm and whirled to face the diminutive security guard. As she stood up, Persephone could not help but notice the woman was strikingly beautiful. Long dark hair, pale skin, and full-figured, she was also much taller than Persephone. This woman must have been at least six foot-four and simply towered over her own five foot-two. Persephone suddenly felt small indeed before this stunning woman with a face that reminded her of the porcelain angels she had seen in nativity displays.
"Terribly sorry dear, you gave me such a fright." Said the woman.
"I-I-I'm sorry, I did not think anyone was here after hours." Stammered a suddenly nervous Persephone.
"I can see from your attire you are the night shift guard. Don't worry, my name is Ms. Hathaway, and I am the night gardener."
"Your name was not on tonight's roster." Said Persephone.
"That must be Mr. Thornton's doing. He never seems to remember I come in once a month for many special specimens we have on display. I will send him a note in the morning."
"I see." Said Persephone. The strange smell seemed to be getting stronger and she felt lightheaded and more than a little dizzy. "If you are supposed to be here, I guess I will leave you be."
"Oh, must you go? It does get rather lonely tending to these Brugmansia and Moonflowers without anyone to talk to."
Persephone swayed a little under the heady scent and realized she needed to sit down badly. Her feet had begun to hurt from the walking and the bench seemed so inviting all the sudden after all.
"Well, just for a few minutes. What sort of flowers are these?" asked the security guard as she sat down heavily on the bench.
"Well, here I have the tender perennials and Gardenia Augusta. Over here I have the Queen of the Night and the White Datura." Said Ms. Hathaway as she gestured to the different plots. "All of these exclusively bloom at night and require a great deal of care."
"What about that one over there?" asked Persephone as she pointed to a beautiful bloom of purple and gold petals.
"Oh, that is a rather special specimen. It is called Hathor's Orchid and it only blooms once every two years. You are incredibly lucky to see it in bloom tonight."
As Persephone sat and gazed at the rare flower with its unique patterns of purple and gold, she felt a spreading warmth from the tip of her toes to the ends of her ponytail. She felt relaxed and at ease with this lovely woman. While she considered herself comfortably heterosexual, she could not help but admire Ms. Hathaway's figure and impressive bust. Her loose gown was made of thin material that left little to the imagination and Persephone could not help but notice she was not wearing a bra.
"Are you all right dear?" asked Ms. Hathaway, her voice radiating maternal concern.
"Sorry, I was admiring your dress. It doesn't look to be appropriate to wear in a museum." Said Persephone.
"Well, working in a green house like this one is warm work, I find this to be much more comfortable if a bit revealing. Why? Do I look ugly?" Said Ms. Hathaway, suddenly defensive.
"Oh god no! I just worry that someone in the museum hierarchy will take issue. I think you are just gorgeous." Persephone gushed. She realized Ms. Hathaway was grinning mischievously.
