“This used to be a market, but now vendors set up pop-up stands on the street,” Zan says, that faraway look back as he gazes out the window.
What must it be like to remember centuries?
“Farmers, artists, and so on,” he continues. “There are restaurants like these that surround it. This place in particular touts itself as a break from all the hustle.”
A person arrives at our table, startling me. I freeze halfway through an emergency kata under the table as the person deposits two slates and chalk and then is gone again without a word.
“That was a waiter,” Zan tells me.
“I’m familiar with the concept.” With an effort I tear my eyes away back toward the table.
“You’ve never eaten in a restaurant.”
“Nope.”
He doesn’t tease me about it or show me any pity; just nods. “This is a menu. You choose whatever you want to eat, and check the boxes accordingly. When the waiter comes back, we’ll hand him back the slate, and he’ll bring the food. When we’re done, we’ll pay. Normally waiters will talk to you to take orders, but this place’s gimmick is being a break from having to talk to people unless you want to, so you won’t have to say anything to him at all.” Zan hesitates for the first time. “It’s not exactly anormalrestaurant for your first, but—”
“I love it already,” I assure him. “How will we pay, though? Do you have money?”
I tense again as the waiter arrives—I’m not ready!—but he only deposits two steaming mugs on the table and then departs again.
I sniff. “Wait. Is that—is thattea?From abroad?” My eyes widen. “Can you afford that?”
“Very much so,” Zan answers, this time with some amusement. “It’s become much cheaper since your time. It’s one of the most common food imports—up there with vanilla.”
“Vanilla?”
Zan cocks his head with a speculative look. “It’s very common in desserts. Probably anything you order will use it.”
Somehow I hadn’t expectedfoodto be so different.
I stare at the menu, starting to actually read it, then tilt my head. The words all look word-like,but—
I quickly do my focus kata under the table as I work through it, my primed mind synthesizing new patterns quickly. Pretty soon it becomes apparent that the words mostly stillsoundsimilar to what I’d expect—at least, since Zan has spoken to me throughout the years so I have already synthesized the bigger linguistic shifts—it’s the spellings that have all shifted, so I start mouthing them as I read.
Zan swears under his breath. “Dammit, I didn’t think of that either. We were conversing fine, I didn’t consider—can you even read this?”
“Yes,” I say absently. “Somewhat? I don’t know some of these words though. What’s a tomato?”
He blinks. “I have... never tried to describe what a vegetable tastes like. It’s red?”
My lips twitch. “Red vegetable. Noted.”
Zan purses his lips. “Fine. It’s not spicy. It’s... sharp? Maybe a little sweet. It’s very juicy.”
We both consider that for a moment.
“I don’t really know what that means either,” I admit. “I guess I’ll have to try one at some point.”
I could try one today. I could choose that.
Foods that won’t have any associations with my old life. Will that make me feel free, or just unmoored?
Do Iwantto eat a new vegetable?
Zan clears his throat. “To answer your question about money, don’t worry about it. I have contacts all over Kameya that I fence scales to as needed.”
Hewhat?
