Cee Worthy (tag Cee)

[Ferris Macklin]

It was not an opinion Ferris had ever expressed out loud, but one he still believed: the teachers at Hammel (and at Kocher) were much more important than he was. Ferris, vaunted title notwithstanding, could be replaced. Teachers willing to work in a meta school, not so much. So if one of them needed a little extra consideration, Ferris was willing to give it.

Cee Cohen stood out amongst the staff mostly for things he could not do. He often couldn't see very well, could not do anything meta, could not be trusted with certain topics of conversation, could not be allowed certain food groups, and apparently could not remember to eat on what might be called a regular basis. Ferris was only able to rectify the last and was happy to do so. One of his minions watched out for Mr. Cohen during lunch, and if he wasn't seen in the lounge or in the lunch line, Ferris slipped down to his office or classroom with a tray and left it someplace obvious, usually right under the man's nose. Which was sometimes not as obvious a place as it might seem. Later, another minion checked to see if Mr. Cohen was still at the school at dinner service, and if he was, Ferris took another tray down before he left for the day.

Today the Cee forecast read 'classroom, asleep'. Ferris fixed a tray with the evening's dinner - meatloaf with tomato sauce, a sauted vegetable mix that included roasted potato chunks, two wheat rolls, a paper cup of cut fruit, and a carton of skim milk. Silverware, napkin, and a plastic cover over the rectangular plate to keep things hot. Ferris wore his backpack and a baseball hat he'd acquired to keep the evening summer sun from getting in his face on the ride home, his chef's coat back in the kitchen ready for tomorrow. In his t-shirt and jeans he might've been mistaken for a tall student. The wad of grape gum in his mouth didn't help either.

Placing the tray on Cee's desk, had the minion not said the computer teacher was asleep, Ferris might've thought the man had fallen and knocked himself out. It was still possible, but... he wasn't going to call for the nurse till he knew. Tucking his gum into his cheek, he leaned over and gently shook the man's shoulder. "Mr. Cohen? Cee? Dinner." And just to be sure, "Uh. Are you alright?"

[Cee Cohen]

Cee had always known he was a workaholic. From all-nighters in the computer labs of his university, trying to finish that last bit of code, to late bleary nights with a bottle of Advil in front of a computer to fix a bug, to nights trying tof figure out how in God’s name students had managed to fix an eye into the Chrome browser of the computer, Cee was used to staying late.

What he wasn’t used to was getting fed. Part of the reason he was so thin was because he didn’t eat—not on a regular basis. He’d just sit there and work on things until two in the morning, when he had to hail a cab—because any carpool he was supposed to have gotten was long gone—to trudge into his door to fall onto the bed for a full four hours before it was up to start the morning again. Cee thrived on insomnia. But it was better than his nightmares.

Of course, there were other days when Cee was just unable to keep his head up anymore. A combination of sugar and caffeine and the sheer excitement of teaching kept him up in the day, but at night when everyone was gone and he had work to do, he never knew what was going to happen. Once he’d fallen asleep with a sauntering iron and had just barely managed to avoid third degree burns.

Anyways, food. Cee wasn’t used to getting meals. But occasionally, if someone put something in front of him, he’d eat it without really noticing. And only a couple of days ago, he had realized he was eating food. And not only food, but good food. After that, he paid more attention to the meals. He still didn’t know who was delivering them, but he made sure to wash the plates in the sink in the teacher’s lounge before leaving them out to be replaced.

Um. Most days.

Tonight was another night he’d completely forgotten about food. He’d had some wiring to redo under the desk and had gotten so focused contemplating a particular knot that he’d dozed off, right on the floor. He was still there, glasses askew and hair rumpled, as Ferris came in and leaned over him. His eyes snapped open at the touch, and he—well, it wasn’t so much as a jerk but a whole body spasm, which made him hit his head on the table he was lying under and promptly lie flat again, blinking until the stars went away.

“Ow,” he said weakly. Then, “Damnation, that hurt! Now what’s that?” He leaned up so he could get a better look at the assailant’s face, and then recognized him. Not an assailant, not a student, but a staff member, and one he was vaguely acquainted with as creator of delicious food stuffs. “Oh. Hello Ferris. I sincerely apologize—I didn’t recognize you in that cap. What can I help you with?” It was automatic. People didn’t typically come to visit Cee. He was there to provide assistance with computers.

[Ferris Macklin]

When Mr. Cohen's whole form leapt like he'd been electrocuted, Ferris's hand came off his shoulder like it was on fire and he stood quickly, hissing through his teeth when head connected with table. He leaned in again to look for blood or bruise. This wasn't the first time he'd seen this happen. Or the third. Or the fifth.

“Ow. Damnation, that hurt! Now what’s that?”

Standing again when he didn't see anything untoward, Ferris just waited till the teacher got his bearings. He wasn't offended at all, never was. He knew Cee didn't mean it.

“Oh. Hello Ferris. I sincerely apologize—I didn’t recognize you in that cap. What can I help you with?”

Grinning, Ferris held a hand out to help him up. "A certain computer teacher has to eat the dinner on his desk," he said. And in case that was too vague, he added, "You."

Adjusting his backpack, he said, "It's meatloaf tonight." Did he dare ask? It probably didn't concern those topics that were off-limits.

Well hell there was about a 30% chance it did but he was going to ask anyway.

"What were you doing under there?"

[Cee Cohen]

There seemed to be some bruising, but Cee didn’t seem particularly worried about it. He rubbed his head ruefully, held his hand up close to his face to check for blood, then looked up at Ferris, who was very patiently waiting for him to regain control of himself. Whoops.

“Oh!” He brightened. “You brought me food. That is incredibly kindly of you. Thank you.” He took his hand and stood up, swaying a bit as stars flashed over his eyes, but he managed to blink them away. “Ah, meatloaf. And you make it so delicious. Don’t you? I can’t seem to recall.” He did LIKE Ferris’s food, but sometimes he paid less attention to it than it deserved. “Would you join me? I have some soda we could drink, and I do detest eating on my own.”

Luckily for Ferris, this was in the 70% of safe topics. “I was fixing cables,” he said. “Sometimes the students enjoy switching them on their blind instructor. Or they do it hoping to fix something. It was well and truly knotted, so I guess I dozed off. My bad. But seriously—would you join me for dinner? You’ve probably already eaten, but I feel bad for making you consistently drop off food for me.”

Someone stop him talking before he hurts himself.

[Ferris Macklin]

“You brought me food. That is incredibly kindly of you. Thank you.”

"You're very welcome."

As he helped the man up, Ferris looked carefully at his head without being too obvious about it, though he probably could have been obvious about it without too much trouble. There was one factoid that tended to run through Ferris's head every time he saw Cee Cohen - that head injuries were cumulative. He noted the unsteady feet and the blinking. He made a note to call the nurse when he left, unless something happened that made him call earlier. Upon reflection, he didn't know what that something would be, as Cee more or less acted like he had a head injury all the time.

“Ah, meatloaf. And you make it so delicious. Don’t you? I can’t seem to recall.”

There were usually several places during conversation with Mr. Cohen that Ferris was rendered speechless, but he wasn't used to them happening so early on. He didn't know if laughing would be seen as offensive or not, but he couldn't help himself as a snort or two escaped.

"I like to think it's adequate," he said.

“Would you join me? I have some soda we could drink, and I do detest eating on my own.”

"I brought you a carton of milk," Ferris replied, pointing. "Nutrition first, Mr. Cohen."

The explanation made Ferris look back to see there was indeed a Gordian Knot of cords that he himself would have to solve with wire cutters. But he was concerned enough with the earlier behavior that he sat down with Cee and leaned back, unshouldering his bag. He hadn't eaten, he'd eat later at home, but he did enjoy the odd man's company.

"Don't feel bad. You're doing important work, teaching kids. And dealing with the effects," he said, pointing to the cord monster. "It's nice to stretch the legs after standing in one place so much."

Digging in his backpack, he found his metal water bottle and unscrewed it. Still had some flat Coke in it. "Please, eat. It's still hot."

Pushing his hat up a little, he waited till Cee had started eating when he asked, "Do you have plans for the break?"

[Cee Cohen]

Cee had never really thought of himself as being more-or-less permanently concussed. He got along quite well with the nurse, people looked out for him, and he’d noticed he had quite a hard head. He did wonder why sometimes the nurse showed up right after Ferris had visited, but he dismissed it. He hadn’t even noticed the other man trying to check to see if he was okay.

“Oh, are you all right?” he asked, concerned at the snorts. He leaned over to his desk to fetch his glasses, then realized that Ferris seemed to be laughing. His lips twitched up, and he offered a slightly sheepish shrug. “I’m sorry. Around finals I always lose my head. I’m sure it’s delicious. All of the staff enjoys your food, you know. You should take more credit for it.”

A carton of milk? Cee’s expression went vague as he tried to remember the last time he’d had milk—like real, actual milk. In all honesty, he couldn’t recall. He was fairly sure the stuff in his fridge was green, but as he wasn’t home much these days it didn’t bother him. “Right,” he agreed. “Nutrition.” He opened the carton and sniffed it hesitantly, then shrugged and took a sip. “Mm. Thank you again. I greatly appreciate the…nutrition.” He prodded the carton, apparently fascinated by its not-plastic attributes, then shrugged and regained better control over himself. He nudged out a seat for Ferris and settled in one himself, continuing to drink the milk but completely forgetting the food.

“They’re not so terrible,” he said absently. “And it’s not too difficult. I think yours is the more challenging position. You have to make meals for the staff, the students and everyone, and they all have distinct tastes and preferences. I just settle them down in front of a monitor and make them work. Very different, I think.” He blinked at the mention of eating, then looked down. “Oh, right! Thank you.” He picked up a fork and dug in with gusto. One thing could be said about Cee, he always appreciated his food. When he could be reminded that he was eating it.

“Mm?” Cee paused, fork speared into the meatloaf, as he considered this question. “It’s uncertain. I’ve been invited to present at a conference, but I haven’t attended one in almost two years now and I doubt my information is of-date. I might visit my family, however.” He tilted his head. “And yourself?”

[Ferris Macklin]

“Oh, are you all right?”

Ferris turned his last snort into a cough. "Yes, thank you."

“I’m sorry. Around finals I always lose my head. I’m sure it’s delicious. All of the staff enjoys your food, you know. You should take more credit for it.”

This time he did laugh. "It's fine, Cee. I know finals makes everyone a little crazy. And thank you, but I can't take credit for what comes out of the kitchens. It's a group effort. But I'm glad you like it."

The taller man's reaction to milk was normally the sort of thing Ferris saw on the Discovery Channel, scientists puzzling over new fossils or debating taxonomic classification.

“Mm. Thank you again. I greatly appreciate the… nutrition.”

Ferris almost started laughing again but held it. "It's just milk. You could probably use the calcium and vitamin D."

Most people got enough calcium via greens and fruit, and D with sun, but with Cee Cohen, Ferris had his doubts. He listened to the man speak, nodding thoughtfully. Ferris thought that if it was easy, Cee wouldn't still be trying to fix it as late as dinner service, but he didn't say anything. He had no idea what sort of schedule Mr. Cohen had or what extra work his job entailed - and if it was anything like that knot of cords, it was probably considerable, considering everything that could go wrong with children given time on computers. But he smiled a little, too. "I try to put up a menu that pleases most. It's all you can do, given a budget and a large group. And there's enough choice that kids who don't like the main course can still fill up on other things."

He hid his smirk at Cee noticing his food behind a swig of Coke from his bottle.

“It’s uncertain. I’ve been invited to present at a conference, but I haven’t attended one in almost two years now and I doubt my information is of-date. I might visit my family, however. And yourself?”

Ferris shrugged with a smile. "I stay here. There's a lot of kids around during the vacations and they still have to eat. Not as many, of course, but enough. Even if there was one, I'd still have to feed them. But my hours are reduced, which will be nice. I have a friend in town who owns a restaurant. I thought I might offer some help a few nights a week if he wants or needs it."

Otherwise, Ferris was going to catch up on his gaming. He was going to hook up all his consoles properly and maybe see if he couldn't find Dr. Roman and entice him over with cookies to introduce him to Final Fantasy.

"What sort of convention? The only type I ever attended had to do with cooking."

There were leftover bars from the staff lounge in Ferris's backpack. He was debating whether or not to offer them to Cee. He was thinking... maybe.

[Cee Cohen]

“Yes, but you hold everyone together.” Cee was earnest in this. “And it wasn’t that good before you arrived.”

Judging by the engineer’s expression, he wasn’t altogether sure that calcium and Vitamin D were things that he wanted. “Can’t you absorb the vitamin from the sun?” he asked tentatively, frowned. “No, that’s…you make it by standing in the sun, that’s correct. Hm. I can imagine why you think I needed it.” And it had nothing to do with Cee’s pale pallor, no, not at all. “It seems to work,” he added. “I haven’t heard many complaints about the food, so well done.” He took another sip of the milk and turned it around to peer at the ingredients on the list as if searching for anything that could turn him into a zombie. Unfortunately, that was exactly what he did. When he buy food, he read the labels very carefully. He didn’t trust anything with “healthy” things added, or hormones, or, well…anything. As a result, Cee had arrived at “natural” foods in an incredibly backwards way. But that was assuming that he went grocery shopping, which happened rarely.

“I’m sorry to hear that you are required to say,” he said sympathetically. “So long as I can figure out how to keep up a good security system for the school, they don’t require my assistance. But at least your hours are reduced. And you’d cook? In your free time?” Cee shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it. Does your friend give you free food, at least?”

Gaming, now, gaming Cee could understand. Admittedly he’d always been more interested in how they were coded than actually playing them, and spent most of the time exclaiming over graphics or features, but it was still an activity he enjoyed.

“Oh, hacking,” Cee said cheerfully. “It’s a computer security convention. I used to be very good. I would headhunt there, actually, for anyone who thought of trying the more legal methods.” Cee himself was more on the illegal side now, but as he was doing it to Reveal The Truth (and was very good at covering his tracks and rarely was interested in anything that could get him into trouble, like money or real government secrets) he considered it okay. This also wasn’t something he admitted in public. “What are cooking conventions like?”

[Ferris Macklin]

“Yes, but you hold everyone together. And it wasn’t that good before you arrived.”

There was no way for Ferris to judge that, so he just smiled a little and gave a tilt of the head that acknowledged the statement. Institutional food had a reputation for being uniformly bad; he didn't suppose his efforts were any better or worse than whoever had preceded him. Perhaps not as vegetable-based, but Ferris had spent too much time at Kocher not to inflict a better sense of nutrition on their American counterparts.

Like milk.

What Ferris had mostly been thinking was that Cee was probably deficient in most of his vitamins, but that D in particular would help due to its effects on bone density. What with all the bonking of the head.

“...I haven’t heard many complaints about the food, so well done.”

Laughing, he pushed his hat back further and then took it off, rubbing his forehead. "I hear them all the time." He shrugged, still grinning. "I could serve pizza every day and there'd be complaints."

When the computer teacher began to scan the milk's nutrition information, Ferris leaned over to read it too, wondering what the man was seeing.

“I’m sorry to hear that you are required to stay.”

"I'd rather keep busy," he admitted.

“...And you’d cook? In your free time? I don’t know how you do it. Does your friend give you free food, at least?”

"Think of it more as returning to my roots," Ferris said, smiling again. "It's what I know, more than this." As for free food, he didn't know. Some restaurants gave their line cooks comp meals (that were usually pretty crappy), and some just gave breaks. A few restaurants even had a rule about not eating there while you worked, meaning if you were employed by the place they didn't want to see you in any shape or form in the dining room, even on your off-days. But he said, "I wouldn't require it. I wouldn't turn it down, but I'm used to bringing my own lunch."

“Oh, hacking. It’s a computer security convention. I used to be very good. I would headhunt there, actually, for anyone who thought of trying the more legal methods.”

At the first admittance, Ferris burst out laughing. For a man to be so skeptical of milk not have any qualms about hacking... he laughed.

“What are cooking conventions like?”

"Like any other convention, probably," Ferris said, "there's booths with new gadgets or the latest models in mixers or other machinery, seminars on new techniques, and always something about the benefits of buying local. Usually other cultures are spotlighted, the more obscure ones like Ethiopian or Filipino, or the more traditional and less acceptably Western dishes of better known countries... like blood soup. I remember the last convention I went to there was a thing about raw milk." He smiled and nodded at Cee's carton. "You're better off drinking that."

Thinking of his Nexus in his backpack, he asked, "So what do you think of tablets?

Scratching his head, he put his cap back on. "I have a computer at home, but I'm still too old fashioned. Paper everything. My grandmother knows more about how to use the PC than I do."

She had in fact helped her grandson over the phone several times already. Luckily, Ferris's PC had Windows 7 instead of 8 and it wasn't too difficult.

[Cee Cohen]

Cee wouldn’t have known that Vitamin D was found in milk, nor that it helped with bone density. His last health class had been a long time ago, and Cee was completely clueless as to modern health trends. He might’ve even been a little suspicious of it had he known that it was a government recommendation. Let no one say that Cee was particular reasonable.

The computer instructor laughed as well. “Not among the students, perhaps, but around the staff, yes! I’ve had enough pizza in my life that even I’d notice if you started serving pizza every day. And for every meal? Ew.” Cee had already lived through that in college. He had no desire to repeat the experience.

As for what Cee was seeing, it was…nothing. No hormones, no additives, nothing. The ingredients even said “milk.” Looking a little disappointed, the man opened up the carton again and began drinking it, halfway done before he remembered that he had food again.

He nodded slowly. “Oh. I see. A lot of the computer companies I worked for used to feed me. It was pretty cool.” He smiled at the fond memories of that, then shrugged and went back to working. “What are you laughing at now?” Cee really didn’t see anything wrong with hacking. He admired a security program that was well done, and if it was possible to hack into it…well, it was just a sign that the programmers and infrastructure engineers had to work a little harder, and not a reflection on anything personal. But then, everyone knew Cee was just a little weird. And he wasn’t looking for money, just top-secret government files. On zombies.

Cee was distracted from his meal by Ferris’s words, and he blinked at the man. “You mean, you actually made…blood soup?” Cee debated a range of responses and eventually decided for the more polite one. “How? With…uh. With what, exactly?” Watch out, Ferris. This is heading toward the dangerous conversation zone.

“They’re the way of the future,” Cee said enthusiastically, a potentially new vector for zombification temporarily forgotten as Cee latched onto a favorite topic of his—emerging technology. “Not done yet, mind, because most of them aren’t powerful enough to run important programs that could let them replace computers, but definitely the way we’re going to go. Soon we’ll all be like Star Trek and carry along little tablet things and it will be wonderful. Um. Why do you prefer paper to a computer?”

[Ferris Macklin]

“Not among the students, perhaps, but around the staff, yes! I’ve had enough pizza in my life that even I’d notice if you started serving pizza every day. And for every meal? Ew.”

For some reason, hearing Cee Cohen say 'ew' made the entire conversation worth it. He laughed, albeit quietly. "You might change your mind if I made the real stuff I learned in Italy, but for the most part I agree with you."

Whatever Cee did or didn't see on the nutrition information, he still drank, and Ferris was relieved. It was one thing to force healthy eating habits on the kids, it was another to mess with the sensibilities of a colleague. What the computer teacher did or didn't eat wasn't Ferris's business, but from the man's lanky frame and head-in-the-clouds-ness, Ferris was still glad when he drank his milk without protest.

“What are you laughing at now?”

It wasn't often he was called on things like this, with the other person really not knowing, so Ferris had to use some careful phrasing. He didn't want to offend, after all. "Worry over some things and not over others sort of amuses me, in the whole scheme of humanity thing." He smiled at Cee. "I'd never poison you, you know."

“You mean, you actually made… blood soup? How? With… uh. With what, exactly?”

Even knowing Cee's proclivities, Ferris didn't pick up on the reason for the hesitance. But then, zombies had never featured anywhere in his logic or world view. "I didn't make it. I had some at a convention. I didn't really care for it, myself, but it's an acquired taste. Cow or pig blood is the most common, but there's a smattering of goat and chicken and ox." Ferris shrugged, thinking that this hadn't been the greatest thing to bring up as dinner conversation (though not for the same reasons), but that it was too late now. "A lot of cultures use it either in soup or in sausage. The Brits have black pudding, it's all over Asia, some of the Eastern Europeans have it, and the Swedes have a soup that uses goose."

As a supporter of the nose-to-tail movement, Ferris gave props to those who had a taste for things like blood or organs. He didn't mind organs so much when they were done with skill, but he didn't think blood soup was ever going to be something he tried making himself, and not just because he had no idea where to get culinary blood in Vermont.

Cee brightened when he spoke up about tablets, and Ferris smiled back. "If I remember right, it's not going to be processor power that holds us back, but battery technology? I dunno. I watched something about that once."

And as to why he preferred paper, "I spent ten years biking Europe and being a line chef. There was no need for a laptop, or even a lot of spare time to use one. Computer skills weren't essential, though I did pick up a Nintendo DS to fiddle with." He chuckled. "So... it's what I'm used to. I never really got into the whole spending hours online thing. Maybe someday I will, but I like... doing things too much and computer stuff feels more like sitting."

[Cee Cohen]

“Italian pizza is different,” Cee agreed promptly. “One of the companies I worked for—“ Back when his hacking and coding abilities had outweighed his quirks and people had desperately wanted to hire him “—had an Italian chef. He was absolutely fantastic. I came out of it weighing about ten pounds more than I had when I had commenced the job.” A total lie. Cee could eat and eat and not really gain weight. No one who knew him had managed to decide why—fast metabolism seemed possible based on his hyperactive qualities, but it might also have been the fact that he often skipped meals.

It was nearly impossible for anyone to offend Cee unless they suggested that he didn’t take proper care of his computer equipment. And even then he’d just take the time to carefully explain why he everything was in fine shape, thank you very much.

Oh. So it wasn’t made with human blood. Oh, of course it wasn’t made with human blood. What kind of nonsense was that? He didn’t want to think about it, but he did ease back. But if it had been around for centuries then maybe it could explain the rumors of zombification or how the disease could possibly spread.

“Is that what black pudding is?” Cee’s face went pale. He’d remembered that he’d eaten blood pudding a while ago. Maybe he had the disease too! That was a frightening thought, one that he typically tried not to think. He shivered slightly, then looked back at Ferris. “Um. Okay. That’s beneficial to know for the future.”

“Battery power does indeed hold us back to a certain extent,” he agreed. “But mostly it is the fact that components are too large to currently attach to our processors. We keep heading toward smaller and smaller technology when, in fact, some technologies lag behind others. Our processors are too small and everything else too bulky to handle it.”

“Nintendos.” Cee sighed. “I really cannot stand those things. There is no flash to their programming, but I admit, what they lack in inventiveness they replace in sheer durability. I only spend hours online hacking, but rarely surfing the internet.” A lie, well, a lie when it came to zombies unfortunately. But Cee didn’t think about that as spending hours online, but instead as doing research, which was necessary and good. “So you don’t even do it? For research or anything? Or what about recipes?”

[Ferris Macklin]

Ferris also had a hard time seeing Cee as heavy, though he would've been in the fast metabolism camp, as skipping meals actually lent itself to a host of things that would've seen Cee gain rather than lose in the long run.

"Yeah, real Italian pizza... makes me wonder how we got so far off base," he sighed. "Though I do like eating it without a fork."

“Is that what black pudding is?”

"Yeah. You didn't know? That's something. Usually people can taste it." Ferris grinned. "Means someone fried it all to hell for you. Good deal."

“Um. Okay. That’s beneficial to know for the future.”

Cee's reaction was not unfamiliar to Ferris, and he smiled sympathetically. The whole 'I Ate WHAT?' thing. "It's perfectly safe."

He wanted to ask when exactly Cee had eaten black pudding in the first place, if he'd been to England, but he decided to save that conversation for another day. The man looked spooked enough. Ferris listened with interest as the computer teacher spoke of processors. "Well, if we've come this far, I don't see those things as problems," he said cheerfully. "Someone will figure them out eventually."

Laughing at Cee's take on Nintendos, he said, "It's not like I ask it to do much. And they are durable."

“So you don’t even do it? For research or anything? Or what about recipes?”

"I go online a little. Weather, email, the like. I do look up recipes, but mostly to get second opinions or to look up regional differences. There's a few food sites I skim sometimes, but... I'm not attached to the net, no." Ferris really didn't see the appeal of it.

Stretching his arms over his head, he stifled a yawn. "Well, now that I know you're eating, I ought to get home. Always a pleasure, Mr. Cohen."

Ferris stood, and dug in his backpack. He took out the paper bag of walnut chocolate chunk brownies and set them on the desk. "Dessert for you."

He saluted, and walked out. When he was far enough away from the computer classroom, he dialed the nurse and told her she might want to check in on Cee.

Again.