What Dreams May Come

Chapter 6: pizza printer

"That's not true. You and I both know that," Levi had said.

He had looked so sad when he had refuted me, as if knowing that he wasn't living up to my standards and having no way to make up for it. I felt guilty for how I had treated him; my madre was right. I had to give him a chance.

Though by now, Levi probably thought that I hated him. It wasn't true. Now that I was past the initial shock, I could see that he was, at the very least, interesting. Not my type, not by a long shot, but he had listened attentively as I had prattled along about bacteria and DNA and colonies; neither Alcott nor Marcus feigned interested so well.

My parents' berth was not so far, and I made it home quickly. My madre was still not at work; how had she gotten today off?

"You're all packed up," she said, but then frowned. "Where's Levi?"

"Resting. Were you so tired when you came out of cryo?"

My madre nodded. "And Levi was the first one, remember. They didn't have so many safeties in place. He probably didn't gain weight before, have a vitamin drip; anything."

She had an assortment of boxes stacked at the front door; ready to go whenever I was ready to deal with another round of Levi.

"Have you made lunch?" I asked. "I didn't realize how hungry I was until we inspected our kitchen. Madre, she left us so many things!"

"That was very nice of her," my madre agreed. "And oui , I did, but I doubt you'll want any; I've been trying to print pizza again."

I groaned. It was my madre's project for the better part of my life. She remembered it as a child, but couldn't recall all the ingredients or how to print them as a food. Some of her attempts had been quite disastrous.

"I'll make something else," I decided. "What's this?"

A folder was left out, and when I flipped it over, I recognized my doodles: Levi's file.

"Read it," my madre ordered. "Clearly holding off didn't make matters any better. Read it and find out something about that poor boy."

I grumbled under my breath, moving through the kitchen to print some noodles. My madre watched me for a moment and then sighed.

"How were the printers? Did Lully give you any trouble?"

"Levi had four hundred credits," I replied. "And Lully wasn't trouble. I just had some things for Levi printed; nothing for the house, I didn't know what there. He also had a huge box that Gliére is sending to our berth. I didn't recognize anything in it."

Once the noodles were printed, I put them in a pot to boil. We had a little leftover chicken and broccoli from last night that I could add for my lunch and so pulled them out of the fridge.

"He's fascinated with everything. Paperwork, trees, storms, printing. It's like having a little kid follow me around."

"Everything is new to him," she replied. "You would do the same if you had woke up on the Aeneid. I'm sure he knows about other things, though; he's not completely ignorant, oui ?"

"He knew who Dylan Thomas was," I offered, though I hadn't made up my own mind about that bizarre part of my morning. "Levi said he was a Earth poet. He had memorized a poem by the man. Isn't that a little...odd?"

"Non, not for the early crew of the Aeneid," my madre responded. "I knew several sonnets and a couple of... I think it was Walt Whitman's poems."

"I want to hear one," I pleaded.