6Juice Boost
They pulled into the filling station just as the Wasp 75 was about to run out of juice. It slowed down and Kuffi had to peddle it into the station by pumping the handle-bars up and down. It looked like hard work but it wasn’t for long. The filling station wasn’t very big and it was cobbled together using random bits of scrap metal. One lone white fluorescent tube hung low over the pump station, and apart from that there was nothing, no one and no other track riders either. A figure approached them from the darkness within. As it stepped into the light Cecilia gasped.
“Hey, Rosie,” said Kuffi, looking up from shining the handlebars. “Cecilia, this is Rosie, Rosie, this is Cecilia.”
“Hello, Rosie,” said Cecilia, stooping slightly to look into her big, round black eyes. Rosie was pink. A pink chimpanzee-face, with unusual shaggy fur covering her whole body. Cecilia liked the fake red hibiscus flower she had tucked behind her ear. Cecilia recognised the flower because it had been her grandpa’s favourite. Rosie was wearing small dark-blue pin-striped trousers and a hand-painted T-shirt that had the word “Lady-Bird” above a badly painted picture of a bird-like woman singing. Although Rosie was about the size of a ten-year-old child, Cecilia could tell she was quite a bit older than her size might suggest.
“Feeling a bit shy, Rosie? That’s OK,” Kuffi said kindly. “Cecilia’s not so bad. She’s a friend.” He smiled as Rosie began to fill the small engine at the back of the Wasp 75 with “juice”.
Rosie extended her free hand cautiously. “Hello,” she said in a soft but remarkably deep voice.
“Rosie’s a bit of a super star!” said Kuffi.
She looked up at him as she wearily tapped the pump on the side of the track rider and put it back in its holster.
“She’s a very talented fruitolin player!”
“I’m working, Kuffi. But the band and I will be playing at El Porto Fino later on tonight with Lady-Bird.”
“Fruitolin?” Cecilia began but she was interrupted by Kuffi.
“Lady-Bird? Oh, I can only imagine that will be something quite special. Send her good luck from me, if you get the chance.” Rosie smiled a big toothy grin as Kuffi snapped himself out of a passing daydream and handed her a big green button. “Thank you,” he said softly, fixing her hibiscus flower so it was just right.
“Pleased to meet you,” she said to Cecilia, flashing that toothy smile again; as she turned and walked back into her metal hut, Cecilia saw that she had an instrument case strapped to her back.
“Pretty special, hey? I hope you get to taste her music,” said Kuffi.
“Yeah. Me too.” She paused a moment. “Taste?”
Kuffi began humming a tune that Cecilia felt like she vaguely recognised. “Can you play an instrument, Kuffi?”
“Ha! No, not with these stubby fingers! Now, let me see, I bet you can. And I’m guessing it’s the t-rom-bone?”
“Nope. Not the trombone.”
“The flutsical?”
“What’s a flutsical?” Cecilia was beginning to realise that Kuffi wasn’t making mistakes—he actually thought this was what the instruments were called.
“Well, this won’t do. Fancy a trip to the music store? What’s your taste in music?”
“I like jazz and blues.”
“Never heard of them. I like sweet flavours… My favourite instrument has to be the marsh-cello… delicious!”
“Well, it sounds like we might have very different tastes,” Cecilia said, “but I’d like to see what you’re talking about… And for your information, the piano… but quite badly.”
“Nonsense.” Kuffi laughed.
There was a long pause between them as they climbed back on the Wasp 75 and Kuffi got the engine going. They moved away from the juice station back onto the orange line, then Kuffi stopped the track rider for a moment.
“What’s wrong?” asked Cecilia.
Kuffi scratched himself roughly behind his ears.
“What’s a piano and does it taste any good?”
7Good Taste in Music
Kuffi parked the Wasp 75 at a junction where the light in the tunnels changed from orange to blue, giving the atmosphere a slightly brown tinge. He pointed at the shop in front of them: Sensational Sound Bites!
“Mmm, let’s find out what your taste in music is then!” he said, rubbing his furry hands together.
As Kuffi pushed open the door, Cecilia’s senses were swamped in colour, sound and taste. Every toot, strum, bang and briiiiiiiing seemed to have a flavour that accompanied it. A tooting over to her left where a frog-face kid was playing some sort of horn instrument made her mouth water: it was sour, like lemons and limes. She squeezed her eyes tight shut and pursed her lips.
“Guess that’s not for you,” said Kuffi, patting her shoulder. “Hmm, what about this?” He picked up an instrument shaped a bit like a guitar and a bit like an accordion. Kuffi slung it over his shoulder with a strap. He removed a drumstick that looked like a lollipop and began banging on the squeeze box, creating the most colourful sound Cecilia had ever heard and a flavour on her tongue that made her want to dance. It was a combination of strawberry cupcakes, salt and vinegar crisps and pineapple juice!
“Yummy!” she said, a smile spreading across her face.
“Yeah, I like this one too! You must have good taste. Shall we go and try my favourite? The marsh-cello!” Kuffi’s eyes shone brightly.
“Yes, please,” said Cecilia, and she found herself licking her lips.
They walked through rows and rows of curious-looking instruments. They were fascinating objects and many of them looked similar to ones she had seen back home but just when she thought she recognised something, she’d notice it had something extra or different about it.
“You know, Cecilia, there are only a few dwellers who can make flavours by singing? It’s rare. But it is possible. Miss Lady-Bird, she can. She has the most beautiful voice and, well, let’s just say it has the power to touch your soul and it
