“It doesn’t look far.”
“It’s not. It’s about five miles. An easy ride, about half an hour. I recommend we get there early—but we don’t need to rush. We can take our time, stop along the way if we want to.” She squinted at the front of the vehicle.
“What are you looking at?”
“The time on the dash clock—8:42 a.m. It runs on battery so it’s still going. It’sprobablycorrect, but it could be an hour off. Up until the invasion, the United States was still falling back and springing forward, changing time with the season. Everybody disliked doing it, but we still did it.”
“Why?”
“Because it literally would have taken an act of Congress to stop it, and our legislators couldn’t agree on anything, not even the time. Now, we don’t have to change the clocks anymore.” She gave a little chuckle. “The Progg did what Congress couldn’t.
“Anyway, on the way to the Gillioz, I’m going to keep an eye out for a place to get a watch. It’s kind of silly, but I like knowing the time. Even if it’s arbitrary.”
“Something normal,” he said.
“Yes. Are you going to shower? I have no idea how much water the tank holds, so I used it sparingly.”
“I would like that.”
“Get yourself wet and then turn off the shower when you soap up. Save the water for rinsing. You don’t want to be soapy and have the water run out.” She held up his bottle of water. “We only have a couple more of these left,” she said, adding, “We should pick up some on the way to the theater.”
“I need some clothes, too,” he added. “I only have one set left.”
“Springfield is the place to get it.” She grinned. “We’ll have a busy day of shopping. While you shower, I’ll feed Kevin outside and then fix breakfast.”
While sanitizing beams worked quickly and thoroughly, sanitizers didn’t provide the sensual pleasure of a water shower. He could have stood under the lukewarm spray for a long time. But, heedful of her warning, he quickly soaped and rinsed.
He looked forward to getting new clothes and dressing like a human in hopes it would make him more acceptable and show he wished to be part of her world and learn her ways. However, Earth clothing also might emphasize the differences. He couldn’t change biology; he would never look human no matter what he wore. He knew shelikedhim, but he wished for her to like himas muchas he desired her.
He donned his last clean uniform, consisting of utilitarian, sturdy gray pants and tunic.
Dressing in the tight space proved to be a contortionist’s challenge. He dropped his clean shirt in the shower, but the water rolled right off.
The delicious smell in the main cabin caused his stomach to rumble with hunger. Chloe stood over a frying pan at the stove, a stack of flattened circular consumables on a plate. She shoveled a disk from the skillet to the stack then sprayed the pan and poured in some batter. It bubbled and started to harden.
He sniffed the mouth-watering aroma. “What is it?”
“Pancakes! Have a seat. This is the last one. Pour yourself some Tang.” She waved the spatula at two glasses half-filled with an orange liquid. “I can’t believe people still drank that stuff. My grandma told me about it. I’d never had it before. It’s not bad.”
He slipped into the bench seat and eyed the glass. “What is it?”
“Fake orange juice.”
He took a sip. “It’s sweet! Tangy!” He grinned and took a bigger gulp.
“It’s orange-flavored sugar-water basically. With a few added vitamins.” She lifted the skillet and flippedthe pancake. In about a minute, she added it to the plate, turned off the heat, and brought the stack to the table, which she’d already set with plates and utensils.
“Take some pancakes and pour this on top.” She pushed a bottle of brown liquid toward him. “It’s maple syrup. The real deal—not the fake stuff. They drank fake orange juice but ate real maple syrup.”
He had no idea if he would like it, but he trusted her, it smelled good, and it couldn’t be any worse than field rations. Using the spatula provided, he took two pancakes and dribbled the thick brown syrup on top.
“Keep going.”
He drizzled some more. The pancakes were soft enough to cut with a fork. Hesitantly, he took a bite. Spongy and sweet, pancakes were the most delicious thing he’d tasted in his entire life. He couldn’t prevent a groan of enjoyment.
She grinned. “It’s better with butter on top—but we don’t have any, and you couldn’t eat it if we did.” She forked a bite into her mouth.
“Why would you eat meat when you could eat this?”
