The Silk Moth Dream (Season 1 Complete)

EPISODE 22: ONE LAST DAY OF NORMALCY

MERCURY, NEVADA, 2040.

"I'm so sick of these powdered meals," Fiona groans as they mix a pack of instant oatmeal, the goop barely sliding off her plastic spoon. "I just want pasta."

Fiona can see the light at the end of this all-too-spontaneous road trip. At the border of Nevada, they've got less than eight hours left on the drive before finding themselves in the anonymity of Sacramento. Between the skyscrapers and hordes of people on the streets, it'll be near-impossible for Shailene and LB to find her in the next little bit. Fiona and Abin only have to wait for nightfall before they can finish off the drive and continue their scrappy living in a shoe-box rental.

But for some reason, being so close to the end only feels so much more torturous to go through the motions. Especially when the motions include sitting in dingy motel rooms with the blinds tightly shut until nightfall.

"Pasta?" Abin's eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"Pasta." Fiona sighs dreamily, her lumpy oatmeal forgotten.

Abin is silent for a beat. "What's that?"

Fiona raises her eyebrows, wondering if there's something wrong with the translation device. "You know. Spaghetti, fettuccine, pappardelle..."

"You're just making up words." Abin's eyebrows are scrunched together in confusion, and he says the words not as an accusation but an obvious statement.

Fiona pauses, stuck again by the fact that he looks so normal with his boyish features despite being from the 16th century. "I guess it's just like... noodles for white people. Did you have noodles?"

Abin's face is so baffled that he almost looks irritated, ever confused by the abundance of new technologies and inventions since his time. "Then why don't you just call them that? Of course we have noodles."

She laughs from across the table, flicking some of her sticky oatmeal into his bowl. The corners of Abin's lips lift in response but sours as he takes another bite of the oatmeal. She'd been so hesitant around him after... what happened at the carnival, unable to talk to him without cringing at the moment all over again. But as much as Abin's stoicism drove her crazy when she first met him, Fiona had to appreciate it now. If her outrageous advances had made him uncomfortable, he does nothing to show it now.

"I have an idea," Fiona says, watching him grimace at another bite of oatmeal. "Why don't we check out Cacio e Papa?"

"Stop making up words," Abin says, his trademark frown returning. He scratches his head, his ever-fluffy hair always sticking up haphazardly like he's just rolled out of bed. "You're just trying to confuse me even more."

Fiona rolls her eyes and jumps up to open the window a peep. "No," she says slowly, pointing at the desolate Italian restaurant across the street. "Cacio e Papa. I haven't seen a single soul enter since we've gotten here, let alone anyone in this town at all."

Abin's frown deepens. "I don't know if that's the best idea. We're so close to Sacramento and I thought you didn't want to risk getting caught again."

Maybe it's the disgusting oatmeal or the endless days of driving that's consumed their lives. Or maybe it's the way that he's looking at her that makes her forget all about farmhouse explosions and tailing cars. It all feels so far away now. She just wants one normal day and Mercury, Nevada seems like the place to do it.

"We'll get takeout. We'll be quick."

Abin's eyebrows scrunch together again. "What's takeout?"

***

The highway between their motel feels open and exposed, but it is entirely uneventful. A few abandoned office buildings and a strip mall sit on their left, with an infinite road on their right. They drive the car up and down the highway a few times – just in case – before pulling up into the side of the restaurant and slowing to a park.