The Wakeful Wanderer's Guide to Disillusionment

Generosity and Revenge

Everyone has lost something. Everyone has lost someone. We only need to remember this to feel kinship with anyone we meet.

– The Wakeful Wanderer's Guide, Vol. 5, excerpt from line 728

Thirty/Fourteen was busy cleaning up the morning after the light turning feast. The celebrations had gone far into the night and though he hated to do it, he had left a number of serving trays and pots to polish up in the morning. It was no way to run a kitchen, and he knew that. Things had just gotten a little wild toward the end of the night, and he didn't have the energy to tidy up afterwards.

There was still breakfast to prepare, so he got some farro boiling in case anyone showed up for a morning bite. He was betting that everyone would be sleeping well into the day. He felt groggy, but a little strong kombucha got him moving well enough to sort things out before the noon rush.

It was days like this that made him wonder whether he should stop being a cook and try something new. He took pride in his work and his local Merit was high, but he often wondered if he might have more to give to a broader community. A cook was always popular so long as they knew what they were doing. Thirty had learned from the best in this very kitchen. He remembered making Fish his favorite dish repeatedly when Thirty was just a young understudy. He made it again and again until finally the man's face lost its usual careworn expression and relaxed in pure satisfaction. It was Eggs in Purgatory, Thirty recalled. That was when he committed himself to life as a chef.

Things change, however, he thought. Just because he embarked on one path as a boy didn't mean he had to continue following the same path all his life. He was getting older. The dot of gray in his beard was spreading week by week. He thought about ordering it off as a gesture to the impermanence of all things, before his beard became completely white and he resembled that perverted hypocrite from the village of his birth. Some day, he might assign the tonsor-bots that auspicious duty, but not today.

He didn't see her walk in. Lost as he was in his thoughts, looking up and suddenly seeing her watching him gave him a shock. He almost dropped the pan he was wiping and the dish towel along with it.

["Thirty/Fourteen,"] Nora thexted, sitting across the island from him, ["I brought you some breakfast."] She removed the cloche from a serving platter and pushed the dish toward him. On the plate was a very pretty omelette with baby asparagus arranged to one side and a drizzle of something that looked like hollandaise sauce. Thirty was impressed. It looked very good.

He took a deep breath. Adrenaline from Nora's surprise appearance was coursing through his veins, raising his blood pressure and fogging his brain. After a moment, he raised his pan and towel pointedly.

["I'm a cook, you know,"] he returned.

Nora nodded. ["Precisely why I made you something to eat. You cook for everyone and no one cooks for you."]

Thirty rolled the gesture over in his mind. The strategy on her part was unmistakable and effective. Her gift was excellent; it was worthy of Merit. ["It looks delicious. May I?"] he grabbed a fork.

["Naturally,] Nora smiled. She rested her chin on her palms, ready to gauge his reaction.

The omelette was as good as it looked. The egg was warm and gooey, hiding chanterelles that had softened slightly. ["You did a lot of cooking back in that Luddite town? This is a good omelette."]

["Not much, no. I did some research and a lot of trial and error here. I had many volunteer test subjects helping me get it right,"] Nora replied.

["I'm flattered,"] Thirty sent back, though he actually felt a little creeped out at the effort it must have taken to try to please him. ["So, was I the target of this generosity all along? Did you want to impress me?"]