Crown Vic to a Parallel World

13

The Breakfast Gawker

I woke up with a hangover and realized I’d slept in my clothes.  Neither of those things was interesting or new.  Two things were weird.  Well, far more than two things, but two struck me as I opened my eyes.  The first was Shawn’s presence in my mind.  He was awake and thinking.  His fear wasn’t as intense as the night before, but his overriding emotion was concern with some anxiety thrown in for flavor.  The second weird thing was that I woke up without craving a smoke.  I couldn’t remember ever opening my eyes and not immediately lighting up.

“Thanks, Shawn.” I said to the ceiling.

I sat up in bed to think.  I needed to give Shawn space so he could deal with whatever he was dealing with that he wouldn’t fucking talk to me about.  I needed to occupy myself for the day.  I needed coffee.  “One thing at a time.” I said aloud and stripped for a shower.  I threw my clothes in a heap in the corner of the room and stumbled my way into the bathroom.  On the back of the door were more clothes; two shades of green this time.

I inspected the clothes with my bleary, barely-awake eyes and wondered if I should wear my blue heels or the red.  Then I wondered why I wondered.  I half-suspected Shawn, the only possible source of the clothes, was making fun of me.  Two shades of green had to be a fashion faux pas on any world.  I shrugged that thought away and decided on the blue heels. ‘Stick with cool colors.’ I thought.

I brushed my teeth and splashed cold water on my face to get my eyes open.  Without my ‘eye opener’ cigarette, it was harder than usual to get my brain running on all eight.  I leaned on the sink and looked in the mirror.  My reflection told me I needed a shave, but there was no razor handy.  I thought about calling the desk to ask for one, but figured another day without a shave wouldn’t kill me.  I cleaned up, dressed, and went down for breakfast.

I asked about breakfast at the lobby desk and was again directed to the hotel restaurant.  In the morning, it served as a fully-automated breakfast establishment.  I followed the golden arrows to the shallow space and sat at the bar.  As I sat, the glass surface of the bar lit up to become a touch screen for ordering.  The process was self-explanatory enough that I understood it easily.  I also felt that I’d seen the touch screen before, like I had some intuitive understanding of how to order from it.  I suspected the influence of Shawn’s memories but wasn’t sure.

I touched a bunch of the images on the screen, entered my room number, and rested my chin on my fist with my elbow on the bar to wait.  The reflection in the bar back mirror showed me that the restaurant was doing better business that morning than it had the night before.  The place was crowded with colorful people, all chatting and enjoying meals.

I people watched for a few minutes until a chime sounded at my spot at the bar.  Right after the chime, a mechanical arm made of gold metal rose from behind the bar supporting a clear glass breakfast tray.  The mechanical arm placed the tray in front of me and withdrew from whence it came.

The tray held a lot of breakfast.  In the center was an oval plate covered in eggs, potatoes, bacon, and sausage.  Next to that there was a smaller plate with a stack of buttered toast.  Next to that was a pot of black coffee with an empty mug, a large glass of orange juice, as well as salt, pepper, ketchup, silverware, and a napkin.  I brimmed the mug with coffee, covered most of the plate with ketchup, and dug in.

I was unceremoniously shoveling food into my face when a stocky, middle-aged man in two shades of blue sat next to me and nodded in my direction.  The nod was one of those ‘we’re strangers, but good morning to you’ nods.  I nodded back and forked more food into my mouth.

The man glanced at my plate, looked up at me, rubbed his eyes, and stared.  I let him stare for barely a second when my natural self-consciousness, on high alert since I’d arrived on Solum, reached its limit and my politeness disappeared.  I rotated on my stool to face the man and growled at him.

“Can I help you, pal?” I demanded.  My tone was shittier than I intended, but between the complete insanity of my situation, Shawn’s fear, magic power, shared memories, and now a breakfast gawker, I’d had enough.

The man’s mouth opened and hung that way for a moment before he mustered an answer.  “I…uh…uhm…sorry.  Thought I knew you.”  He stammered.

The man’s statement was a lie.  He knew it and I knew it.  I decided not to pursue it.  I offered my hand and he shook it.  “Church.”  I said.

“Gitec.”  He replied.

Gitec’s firm handshake made me feel a little better.  He also looked like a regular ‘Joe,’ or whatever the hell that saying might be on Solum.  I had no idea what names might be common enough to build sayings around.  I supposed I could search Shawn’s memories and find out, but that seemed like a silly thing to do with Gitec staring up at me.

I let the man’s handshake embolden me a little and I invited him to eat with me.  I really wanted to have a regular conversation with a regular guy.  I wanted to have one of those morning chats with a stranger, full of meaningless small talk and disingenuous pleasantries.  One of those, ‘hey, how are ya?  You know me, every day’s a holiday.  Nice weather.  Yeah for a duck.’ meaningless bullshit conversations.

“I’m a stranger here.” I admitted in an attempt to win the understatement of the year award. “Why don’t you let me buy you breakfast and you do me the honor of joining me?  I could use a little conversation to wake my brain up.”

Gitec waved a dismissive hand in the air and smiled appreciatively as he did it. “Awww…you don’t hafta do that.”  He said with a deep, lazy voice that mangled his consonants and smeared his syllables.

I agreed with him and pressed him to join me. “No, I don’t, but I’d like to.  Just punch my room number in when you order.  It’s 428.  I’ll get us a table.”  I said and waited for a reaction.

“Sure…sure,” he waved again and nodded his agreement at me, “anything ya’ say.  Be right along.”

I stood up and Gitec’s eyes followed me up.  They bulged as I reached my full height.  I met his gaze as a challenge, and he dropped his eyes to the touch screen on the bar.  Gitec’s reaction reminded me how much bigger I was than the average Solum resident, and I felt very visible as I scanned the room for an empty table.  I found one and quickly claimed it.

Gitec joined me with his eyes back in his head.  His tray held two over-easy eggs, two bacon strips, one slice of buttered toast, and one mug of coffee with cream and maybe sugar.  The comparison between his modest breakfast and my gluttonous meal was stark enough that it gave me a qualm of embarrassment.  ‘Fuck it.’ I thought with a mental shrug.

“What do you do?”  I asked to break the ice.

He made me wait for an answer while he ate a strip of bacon.  He nibbled it from one end to the other like a rabbit with a piece of lettuce.  When he was finished, he inspected the grease left on his fingers, licked one of them, and wiped the rest on his napkin.  “I’m-a culinarian tuner.  Go all over.  Gotta keep those buggers in shape.  Outta tune…ruin a reputation.”

I’d heard the man’s words, but I didn’t understand any of them.  I must have stared at him.  The word ‘confused’ must have been stamped on my forehead in capital letters.  Gitec took a careful bite of toast, checked his fingers again, and elaborated.  “The kitchen machine…makes the food…ya’know…the synthesizer.”

I shook my head as I chewed.  Gitec ate an egg and winked at me.  “Messin’ wit me?”

I shook my head again.  “K,” he shrugged, “guess some folks don’t know ev’rything.  Powder…‘base’ they call-it, made fr’m plants, comes in bags.  Fill the hopper, punch the button, eggs’n bacon, toast’n jam, steak’n greens, anyth’ng ya’ want.  I’m a guy makes sure it’s right.”

I drew the logical conclusion from the man’s words and spoke my thought aloud to clarify. “You mean all food is plants?” I held up a bacon strip from my plate. “This is plants?”

“Yep.” Gitec nodded his enthusiastic agreement. “‘Cept it’s not.  ‘Zactly the same’s meat…but didn’t hafta kill it.  See?”

I thought about the porterhouse Beni had brought me.  “I had a steak last night…”

“Plants.” Gitec asserted.

I looked into my half-demolished breakfast and was stunned to find out that there were no animal products on my tray.  “Fuck me.” I said aloud in an expression of surprise.

“Can’t now.” Gitec shook his head. “Later, maybe.  Be done work’t four.”

I didn’t understand what he said.  I felt like I missed something, but I didn’t know what it was.  “What?  Later for what?” I asked.

“A’fuckin.  Hafta get some climbin’ tackle f’r you big man.”  He went back to his plate, slid his remaining egg onto what was left of his toast and nibbled away at both.

I played what he said over in my head but couldn’t make heads or tails of it.  I reasoned it out again slowly.  Understanding hit me like a brick to the face.  ‘He thinks I just asked him to have sex with me…and he agreed if I can work with his schedule!’

“I’m sorry!” I blurted.  Gitec looked up, but he didn’t stop nibbling.  “I didn’t mean…ah-shit…what I said is an expression where I come from.  It’s like ‘wow.’  I didn’t just proposition you.”

He made me wait while he finished nibbling.  I worried he’d be offended.  I hoped he wouldn’t be.  He wasn’t.  “That’s fine.” He said with another shallow shrug. “Confusin’s all.  Change yer mind, be here till Tuesd’y.  Be fun.”

I nodded my mortified head and went back to my plate.  Gitec finished his bacon and coffee, shook my hand with a greasy paw, and left.  I watched him walk away.  He wasn’t bad looking for a guy who appeared to be five or ten years my senior.  He carried his extra weight well and moved with confidence.  The nonchalant discussion about casual sex surprised me.  Shawn had explained the culture, but forty years on Earth made it difficult to believe.

‘Maybe you should.’ I thought. ‘Wouldn’t have to be so self-conscious with someone your age, someone who carries some weight.’  I shoved those thoughts aside as ridiculous.  Not only did Shawn have to initiate sex with me, he basically had to pounce on me.  The idea that I’d be confident enough to enter into intimacy with a stranger was even crazier than the rest of my situation.

I finished breakfast, pushed my tray into a slot in the wall shaped like a tray, and ambled into the lobby to come up with a plan for the day.  Shawn was still upstairs, his mood impatient.  I guessed he wanted breakfast but wanted me somewhere else before he came down.  I checked my pockets to see if I had everything I needed for a day on my own.  I felt around for my cigarettes and lighter before I realized I didn’t need them anymore.  I also found myself looking for my car keys before I realized I had no use for them either.  I had my wallet and my new ID, but no Solum money.  That was the missing piece.

I started for the elevators, changed my mind and my course mid-way, and went to the desk.  The young woman who, the day before, had thought Shawn and I were newlyweds was unoccupied.  I stepped up to her station and shot a question at her before she acknowledged me.  “Is there a place I can call my room?” I asked.

“You can do that right here.”  She said brightly and looked up from whatever she was doing behind the counter.  She saw me and froze.

I rubbed my neck in frustration at the raw, wide-eyed disbelief on her face.  “I promise it’s not catchy.” I grouched at her.

“I don’t understand.” She muttered.

“Size…my size is not contagious…OK?” I demanded, probably with more hostility than the situation required.

The clerk flushed deep-red and lowered her eyes in embarrassment.  “I’m sorry for being rude.  It must be uncomfortable, people must stare.”

“They do and it is.” I admitted. “I accept your apology.  Would you ring my room, please?  428.”

She did as I asked and got Shawn on the line.  “I want to go out today,” I explained into the flat, black receiver, “but I don’t have any money.”

Shawn’s fear increased, almost to panic.  “I haven’t had breakfast yet.”  He objected irrelevantly.

“I’m not asking for your company.  I can go out on my own.  I’m a big boy.”  The woman at the desk heard me say this and smirked.  I winked at her amusement.  “I just want some cash or credits or tokens or shekels or whatever you people use for currency.”

“But you don’t know the city.” Shawn objected again.

I was getting angry at his objections.  He didn’t want to be near me, but when I wanted to spend time alone, he threw up roadblocks.  I growled into the phone.  “Shawn…listen carefully, I’m forty fucking years old and I live in Phila-fucking-delphia.  I can get around ANY city, ANY where, especially one that speaks fucking English.  I want some walking around cash.  Do I get it from you or do I call your uncle and get it from him?”

Shawn sighed into the phone.  His emotions shifted from fear to resignation, and I felt he was about to give in.  “We use credits here.” He explained. “Everything is linked to your ID.  I’ll make sure there’s a positive balance.  Are you sure you don’t need me to go with you?”

“No, I don’t.” I snapped at him. “I expressed-ly do NOT want you with me.  You do you and I’ll do me.  See you at The HALL Monday morning at 8AM.  Goodbye.”  I handed the phone to the girl at the desk.  I heard Shawn shouting from the tiny speaker but couldn’t pick out the words.  I felt his frustration and worry come through our link.

The desk girl accepted the receiver, listened to it, and held it toward me.  I shook my head.  She hung it up without a word.  I got my new ID from my wallet and waved it to her.  “Do you know how to check the balance on one of these?”

She showed me that if I pressed my thumb on a spot on the back of the card, red numbers would flash and show the balance.  I did as she said and a number popped up.  I assumed that meant Ars had pre-loaded the card when he had it made.  The number seemed like a large one, but I didn’t know the value of a credit to be able to gauge the amount.  I asked the girl for help.  “It says one-hundred-thousand.  Is that a lot?”

She nodded vigorously.  “That’s more than double what I make in a year.”

From the woman’s statement, I reasoned that credits were just a little more valuable than American dollars.  That meant the hundred grand I had at my disposal was plenty of money. “Very generous, Ars.  Thank you.” I said to myself and stuck the card back in my wallet.

I debated over asking the clerk to call a taxi, or hiring a car with a driver, or trying my luck with public transportation.  Each had possibilities and pitfalls.  In the end I decided to take public transportation.  I knew there were busses because I’d seen them when Shawn was driving us to and from The HALL.  I figured public transportation would put me as close to the city and its residents as possible.

I wanted to meet the people, to understand them and my new environment better.  The desk woman directed me to a bus stop at the edge of the property and I turned my steps in that direction.