by J Boyd Long
“I can hear the gears grinding in your head, Quentin. It’s just normal electronic banking. Since DimCorp owns the bank, we can use our card in any dimension where there’s a branch. It’s no different than what you’re used to, you just have to know which banks are DimCorp banks.”
Quentin nodded. Having money available changed his whole perception of their situation. In some ways he appreciated the irony of DimCorp unknowingly funding them, but he also grated at how much easier everything became when you didn’t have to worry about how you were going to pay for things. Having spent his entire life on the other side of the coin, living from one paycheck to the next, he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. It would be ridiculous to not use DimCorp’s money just on principle, right? Yes, that would be ridiculous.
The maître d’ appeared at the door with a flourish. “Good evening, lady and gentlemen. If the party is ready to be seated?” His heavy French accent perfectly complimented his role, and he swept his arm towards the door, his white-gloved hand outstretched.
They followed him into the dining room, weaving between tables and waiters laden with trays of food. The room was huge, but divided into pockets of ambience with low walls and small trees in a way that made it seem cozy and private. They arrived at their table and were seated as the maître d’ made a show of fussing with the tablecloth and accoutrements. He smiled at Tocho as he leaned past him to light a candle. “I love your suit, it’s very fetching.”
Tocho beamed. “Why, thank you, you’re very kind.”
Quentin blushed, and quickly looked down at the menu. Watching Tocho flirt with a guy that was at least forty years younger than him was a little awkward. His stomach growled in anticipation of a good meal, something other than fish for a change. Granted, the diet on the island had done him good. He had lost some weight, and the training regime included more exercise than he had ever done in his life. Still, it would be nice to eat some chicken or pork.
Once the maître d’ had announced the specials and left them to look over the menu, Quentin took a moment to look around. Outside, this dimension was loaded with futuristic technology. In here though, in what was probably one of the finest restaurants there was, it looked like it could be in any dimension. There were no robots delivering food, no screens on the table to order from, nothing advanced at all.
Quentin cleared his throat, and glanced around to make sure there was no one within earshot. “I sort of expected something different. This is really nice, but it’s not what I thought it would be like at all.”
Bob raised his eyebrows. “What were you expecting?”
Quentin shrugged. “You know, some kind of advanced technology. Floating trays, automated servers, something like that.”
“Oh, no,” Bob said. “I think you’re misunderstanding the situation. Every fast food place in town is automated. Delivery is automated. Cars are automated. Shopping is automated. That’s commonplace. The very best that money can buy is personal service from another human being. That’s what they offer here, the personal touch. It’s a rare commodity.” He took a roll and passed the bread basket to Quentin.
That was a lot to think about. In Quentin’s dimension, automated services like self-checkout and automated ordering kiosks at restaurants were still new technology, and sort of a novelty. The idea that it might become so common that a real live waiter was the novelty made him take a mental step back.
“They give you a wicked-awesome tux to wear, too,” Eissa pointed out. “That has some value.”
“To be sure,” Bob said with a grin. “Especially when you’ve been on the island for a month.”
The menu was also surprising to Quentin. He had been expecting exotic things that he’d never heard of, and while there were a few items like that, most of it looked familiar. There was a page dedicated to steaks, a page for seafood, salads, and all of the other usual fare. He wasn’t normally a steak eater, but this was a special circumstance, and it sounded appealing. He glanced at the dessert page, and then flipped back to the steaks.
“They’re really specific about their steaks,” he said. The information beside each steak option was definitely different than what he was used to. “They list all these different fat compounds and stuff. Weird.”
Tocho leaned forward conspiratorially. “That’s how you choose the flavor,” he explained. “This meat is grown in a lab, it’s not actually from live animals.”
Quentin glanced at Eissa, then back to Tocho. “Are you serious?”
Tocho nodded.
“Oh my God, that’s awesome,” Eissa said. “Somebody finally did it.”
Quentin grinned, nodding his head. This dimension was winning him over pretty quick. Clean energy, clean food, high-speed transportation that didn’t require fossil fuels, there was a lot to like. “I might need some help with the flavor selection, then. Any recommendations?”
“Mmm,” Bob grunted around a mouthful of bread. “P3 is a pork-based fat. You can’t go wrong with that, especially on a filet mignon. I guarantee it will be the best steak you ever had.”
Quentin glanced over the selection of side items, and finalized his order just as the waiter came and delivered drinks. When he had taken their dinner orders and gone, Quentin changed discussion topics. “Alright Eissa, tell me how you got through the DimGate so fast.”
Eissa set her glass down and dabbed at her smiling mouth with a napkin. “It was stupid easy, really. When Tocho took you into the cabin, Bob was supposed to take me down to the beach and tie me up, right?”
Quentin nodded.
“Well, I decided not to go to the beach. We’re training for escape skills, so I escaped. I used that ninja hip toss we learned on Bob right there in front of the cabin, and just walked to the DimGate and crossed over. Two minutes, job done.”
Bob grunted. “Took me by surprise, I’ll admit. Tocho had to help me up. By then the plan was out the window, so we just came on over to wait for you. I wasn’t about to wrestle with you after Eissa knocked me on my ass.”
They laughed. Quentin knew he shouldn’t be surprised, but he couldn’t help feeling a little peeved. That was just Eissa being Eissa, but still, it sucked being the only person in the game who followed the protocol. “Well, since you didn’t play by the rules, I shouldn’t have to do your chores.”
“You go ahead and follow the rules, Quentin. I’m going to survive.” She scrunched up her nose and stuck her tongue out at him. “In case you’ve forgotten, one of us got captured by DimCorp, and one of us performed a daring rescue, and it wasn’t me that got captured, so don’t criticize my technique.”
Quentin sighed. She reminded him about that at least three times a week. He’d given up arguing with her about it, or defending himself. It was better to let her get it out of her system so they could move on. He had to smile as he picked up his glass. Eissa might not color inside the lines the way he did, but it was hard to argue with her results. She had saved his butt in the Genesis Dimension, which was the worst jam he’d ever been in, but she’d gotten him out of a lot of scrapes and tight spots over the years, too. When they were kids, they’d gone exploring in an old, abandoned cement plant. Quentin fell through a hole in the floor, and she made a rope out of their jean jackets and pulled him up. It took years for her to stop reminding him about that one.
His mood brightened at the memory, and he pushed the irritation away. This was a special dinner, signifying the end of their training and the beginning of their next mission. It certainly wasn’t the time or the place to get an attitude.
Tocho tapped his glass with his fork, breaking the spell of the moment. “I’d like to propose a toast. We’ve come a long way in a short time, and I’m proud of us all for what we’re doing. So, here’s to the Fearsome Four.” He raised his glass in a salute.
“Here, here,” Bob said, raising his glass. Quentin and Eissa followed his lead. “To the Fearsome Four.”
Quentin raised his glass next, and the others looked at him expectantly. “I
just wanted to thank everyone. I’ve had to change the way I think about a lot of things, and you’ve all taught me a lot. I’m looking forward to our mission tomorrow, and I’m proud and honored to be a part of this team.”
The others intonated affirmations, and clinked glasses. “And to Eissa,” he added. “Who always has my back.” He gave her a wink and raised his glass to her.
The food arrived, and any further toasts were abandoned in favor of eating. Bob was right. It was the best steak Quentin ever had.
