The Truth of Past and Present

Chapter 3: The lower sector and a kitchen

The lower part of Medissera is where the lower classes live. The merchants, tradesmen, small businesses and farmers have their shops in the lower markets, the slave markets are even lower in the First Under street, and the Pits, as they are called, are the lowest sector of the city, where criminals and cutthroats fester in the blackness. 

Of course, as members of the Government class, we would not dare go to the Under streets, but it is safe enough to wander in the farmer's district. However, we higher class members tend to set ourselves apart from the lesser, as they are inferior to us.

At least, so my father tells me. 

I believed him, for the most part. Those below us are inferior, but there is no reason why we should not at least mingle with the common citizenry. If I am to follow in my father's footsteps as Governor, I need to know what and who I am dealing with, right?

With this in mind, I followed Garek and his friends through the streets on the city's ground level. The lower you went, the more mediocre, but why not just this once? There was a small, dirty-looking shop on the corner, and we entered.

The room-for that is what it was-was filled with dim lighting and smoke and strange creatures and smells. Shocked, I realized it was a cantina, a bar used by any and all Galactic Empire inhabitants, no matter what planetary origin.

"Garek, are we really going in here?" I asked him, slightly incredulous.

"Yes. Don't worry," he said, seeing my face, "I've been here before. It's safe so long as you give nobody a reason to be angry, meaning: don't talk back, don't argue, don't bump anybody, don't look anybody in the eye, and don't get in their way." he said, ticking the items off on his fingers. I must have still looked unsure because he reassured me again. 

"Just stick close to us."

Once I got past the frightening abnormality of this new world, I actually enjoyed it. The smoke made me cough, and the different smells overwhelmed my senses at first, but eventually I adjusted. The food at this cantina was actually good, despite the grimy appearance of the general surroundings. At one point, I stood up.

"Where are you going?" Garek asked me.

"I need to...use the facilities?" I said, hoping he would buy it. 

"Alright, but don't be long," he told me.

I headed in the direction he pointed out to me, but I was on a rebellious streak, so as soon as I was out of sight, I diverted my course to the kitchens. 

As a cook in my own right, I wanted to see how things worked in a lower-class kitchen. Who could blame me for being curious?

I followed the smell of cooked food and opened a door, leading me into the heart of the melee. Steam hissed from a rehydrator, frying fish sizzled in pans, the ovens were radiating good smells, and everything was in an organized chaos. I loved it.

"Hey! You there!" a Marusian pointed one of his four blue arms at me. I was almost positive he was the head chef.

"Me, sir?" I asked him.

"You're not supposed to be here, therefore, get out!" he yelled.

I stepped back a bit. "I am sorry, sir, I didn't mean to intrude. I wanted to see how this kitchen works."

"Huh?" 

"Well, I cook a little myself, and I-"

"Say no more, put this on." he tossed an apron at me. 

Now it was my turn to be confused. "Excuse me?"

"I can only do so much with four arms during the rush, you know. You can cook?"

I nodded mutely.

"Put on that apron. You can go after the dinner rush."

"When does that start?" I asked, putting on the apron.

"In 5, 4, 3, 2..." he said, counting off on his fingers.

Suddenly there was a pounding outside the cantina, and I heard maybe 20 new voices enter at the same time. 

They kept coming.

By the time everyone had seated themselves on every available seat, I was convinced that every lower class citizen of this sector was stuffed into this one cantina.

Then the whirlwind that was plates, utensils, drinks, and food began.

The Garindian behind the bar counter was talking at the same time as his other red-skinned head, one taking orders up front, the other shouting the order through the window behind him leading to the kitchen. 

I was the only other cook there besides the head chef, who made the food and made sure I did things right. He was the one who yelled at me for slacking or mixing up an order, and the one who told me what my job was: food assembly.

It was apparently my job to take all of the finished food parts on a long, shining metal table and put them together on plates on trays to compose the final order. I was a little slow at first, messing up a lot, but as I got used to it, I began to get faster and better at it. Soon, all I had to do was glance at an order slip in order to know exactly what I had to do.

It may not have been exactly cooking, but it was amazing. I was part of a kitchen! 

Then my moment ended.

"Nerida, what are you doing?!" 

I jumped and turned around to face Garek, who was staring at me and my surroundings in dumbfounded disbelief.

"Garek! I-" I fumbled for an explaination, "I wanted to...to see the kitchen and...they offered me a position for the rush. They were short a hand, so I-"

"I can see that, but why?" he asked me. "You are the Governor's daughter! Why are you slaving away as a cook in the lower sector?"

"Why not?" I asked him indignantly. "I like to cook, what's wrong with that?" I was definitely on a rebellious streak.

"Girls of your rank should go shopping or to parties with their friends, not cook for a cantina in the lower sectors! It's not befitting to your station!"

I was angered by that statement. Who was this boy to tell me what I couldn't do? "I am not limited to your dictations of what a girl of my station should do, Garek Liverin!" 

"But you are limited to finding your way back to your house by yourself, Nerida Ganderion!" He scowled.

With that, he turned away and stalked out the door, leaving me in a cantina kitchen, surrounded by orders, to wonder just what had happened.