The Taste of Truth

An Odd Prompt piece

The weekly MOTE prompt challenge led to this bit of flash fiction. I was prompted by Parrish Baker with “She could taste the lies people told, each one with its own distinct flavor.” I prompted ‘Nother Mike with “The people of the second round” and you’ll have to see what he does with that over at the MOTE blog. You can also send in your own prompt and join the challenge while you’re there!

The Taste of Truth

Anisette, bourbon, and perhaps just a hint of soap... or cilantro. Juime reached for her notebook. She could taste the lies that people told, and they were perhaps the secret to her success as a food scientist. She could take those flavors, and create appealing treats people loved, just like they did most lies they were told. She used to feel guilty about it, but over the years she had decided that she may as well get some good out of all the bad around her. It wasn’t like she was harvesting the lies, and using them to her own profit. She had learned how to dissect food, spices, perfumes... in order to escape the madness in her head as the lies surrounded her almost every time she interacted with other people. In giving each note a name, understanding the texture and layers of the lies became something she could understand, unlike the lie itself. There was no understanding some of those. Some were straightforward, almost refreshingly bergamot: “you look nice today.” Or perhaps the cloyed melon and orange blossom of “we missed you!” 

Only once had she gotten up and precipitately left the room after tasting a lie. The flood of indole, thiols, and putrescine of the simple sentence, “oh, she’s in Europe...” made no sense to her while she crouched over the toilet gagging. 

Juime found that she gravitated to people who told fewer lies, or if they did, the lies had the tang of sharp citrusy social lubricant fibs. Those, she suspected, most people didn’t even realize they were lying with their ‘oh, I’m fine and how are you?’ which tasted of coriander and Malort and a faint overlay of jasmine. 

She’d tried it, on herself. Lying tasted so bitter on her tongue that she had given it up entirely, preferring the more distant and dilute flavors of the lies other people told. Which she jotted down in her notebook and used to blend up unique formulas like cucumber with a note of star anise and an earthy baseline of sandalwood. 

The taste of truth was cool, clear water, with the right minerals in it to give it more than a flat nothingness of distilled water. 

Juime closed her notebook and reached for her glass, avidly eavesdropping on the tables around her in the restaurant. She was very interested, but not for the reasons any of them might think. Taking a sip of the water with lemon in it, she cleared her palate for the next one.