Although no alarm woke him, Julian still felt tired when he opened his eyes the next morning. Sitting up took extra effort, and he realized he was ready for breakfast—to literally break his fast. There was a tiny twist of desire to return to bed, and he toyed with it for a moment before rising to his feet, beckoned by the morning sun streaming in through the windows. This brave new world of 2076 was calling.
Two days without food! A week ago—subjectively speaking, of course—he'd have been shocked by the idea of giving up eating on purpose. Having accepted a spontaneous challenge, having surpassed his goal twice over, any temporary discomfort was offset by pride in his achievement. It was a prize of knowledge and ability that could never be taken from him.
After showering, he selected clothes appropriate for the day and padded out to find Ray in the kitchen. "Happy Saint Patrick's Day," Julian greeted him, radiating a verdant green from the shirt he'd chosen from Lord Hoot's. "Or is that not a thing in 2076?" His host, he was disappointed but not surprised to see, wore no green.
Setting aside the tablet he was reading from, Ray rose from his seat. "Good morning," he said. "Still on for breakfast this morning?"
Julian patted his stomach. "I'm ready to eat," he said.
Ray motioned him over to the counter. "Let me show you the options," he said. Tapping at a spot on the wall, a handful of foods sprang to life in colorful holograms. "This is what the kitchen has this morning, although if you want something else, we can probably get the ingredients and cook."
"Corned beef hash," said Julian, pointing. "Everyone's Irish today. With eggs?"
Ray scratched his chin. "I remember St. Patrick's Day from when I was a kid," he said, "wearing green and all that. You might be right, though, because that's not usually on the menu." He made a few more taps. "Should be up in a few minutes."
Julian fixed himself a cup of coffee with cream and sugar and stood by the island. "You mentioned the other night at dinner that you had some whiskey on hand. How about breaking it out for St. Patrick's Day?"
Ray considered the idea for a moment, then opened a cabinet. "Well, as your doctor, I'm certainly not recommending this," he said, lifting out a glass bottle filled with amber liquid. "But it's your choice. There was a note in your medical file: you had a non-zero blood alcohol content when you were placed into the medical coma." He shrugged and set it on the counter. "In case you had cravings, I thought it best to have some medicinal stock on hand."
There was a soft chime. Julian's mouth began to water as Ray slid a panel open and removed a metal tray with his breakfast. "That smells really good," he said.
"Can I advise you to go slow?" Ray asked.
Julian picked up his fork and maneuvered both eggs and hash onto it, then spoke. "I don't know what the traditions are for breaking a fast. But since Reverend Shaver asked if he could end his with me, there must be a non-zero amount of significance to it." He smiled inwardly at working the new phrase into conversation. "Anyway," he toasted with his fork, "thank you for waking me up in 2076. It's pretty amazing so far."
His mouth exploded with flavor. The silky-smooth scrambled eggs blended with the crisply fried corned beef hash, their tastes forming a divine combination that lingered on his tongue afterward. Julian closed his eyes and grinned.
"Sixty-three hours," he heard Ray observe. "My compliments."
"Thank you," he replied. "I'd always heard breakfast was the most important meal of the day; it never occurred to me I could skip a couple of days and still feel good." He remembered what Idabee had told him about the fast. "Ray, you said you usually only fast for Muster Day, for the American Union?"
YOU ARE READING
Looking Backward from the Tricentennial
Science FictionWill the United States last for three hundred years? Julian West has his doubts, but after waking up in 2076, he finds the nation has been reborn like a phoenix. Idabee Leete, daughter of the doctor who revived Julian, serves as his guide within the...