Merfolk on Mars

Chapter 8

"Do we really have to cross that street?" Corvus asked, peeking through the window at a handful of people loitering within sight.

"Unfortunately," I said, "Perhaps they will assume we are just crossing here because there are no other tunnels between these two corridors of shame."

"Let's keep our heads down and pretend we are trying to avoid attention," Isla suggested.

"We are trying to avoid attention," I muttered. "Either way, standing here isn't getting us closer to that tower. Let's go."

With a deep breath, I eased the door open and stepped outside. Keeping my eyes on my feet and watching the street in my peripheral vision, I shuffled across the cobblestone road.

A man approached our group, holding his arms open. "Ah, friends, please accept my invitation to attend the Harvest Moon Tea Gala! Not to worry! There is still time to get home and freshen up to attend this big event!"

"Uh, a tea gala?" Not my most brilliant response, but then again, I'd never been invited to any non-school related event before.

"Not just a tea gala, but the tea gala of the year! The splendid exotic mixtures have been dried to perfection and flown in by dedicated pilots. Fragrant leaves from the refreshing summits of India, rain-fresh buds from the sandy dunes of the sun-baked Mojave Desert cacti, succulent Sargassum from the storm-tossed coasts of Britain, and many more!"

I was so far out of my depth that I just gaped at him like a fish out of water.

Isla whispered under her breath, "Did he just manage an entire purple prose speech about tea?"

She sounded shocked, somewhat impressed, and partially mortified. I had no idea what purple prose was, but such a detail wasn't at the top of my worry list.

The man somehow mistook my bewilderment for intense interest and tilted his head slightly, expecting me to say something. Fancy speeches were so far out of my league that they might as well be back on Sealantis.

"Um, I assume this will be an event to be remembered until next year?"

"Certainly! It shall never be forgotten and will be entered into the records of tea shops as a gala most dapper!" The strange man continued rambling on about tea and history records, seemingly unaware that his over-reaching praise about tea was likely having the complete opposite reaction of what he was intending.

Corvus leaned over and quietly asked, "What does dapper mean?"

"I have no idea, but play along," I whispered back.

The man suddenly stopped as he took a second look at us, primarily me.

"Tassels?" he demanded, with a sudden frown. "What madness is this?"

I now had my answer. Apparently, tassels were not in style.

And he just so happened to expect an answer from me once again.

Isla quickly came to my rescue, pulling a corner of her tasselled cloak around so he could see it more clearly. "Have you not yet heard of how, uh, dapper, tassels are becoming? We have buttons and gears, but both are round. Surely iconic steampunk is beyond mere shapes. Do our hearts not cherish leather and gears? We have gears! But, alas, we could be doing so much more with leather! And tassels allow us to display the beautiful layering that would otherwise be left unseen."

A tic developed above his eye, and his hands twitched, clearly conflicted – or possibly enraged beyond his tea-loving sensibilities.

He finally took a deep breath. "Such changes must be conversed over several rounds of tea to allow the idea to settle and steep. A convention must be held for such drastic ideas. This is not proper. It is much too... too much change! Tassels have never been seen in Brasslantis before. I shall not have such a display at the gala. Consider your invitations rescinded."

I wasn't sure whether to take that as an insult or cheer that he had finally decided to end this awkward conversation.

"Then we shall continue on our way, sir," Isla replied. "Our heads feel bare without our goggles."

"That is a horror most unimaginable," he agreed before turning around and walking away.

There were a few observers farther up the street watching our group, clearly having overheard Isla's explanation. This was far too much attention that would surely be gossiped about in a place like this.

I hastened my steps to get to the door I had originally been trying to reach. Since when had crossing a street become so hard?

Happy corals and delighted clams! We made it through the doorway without being waylaid by any more strangers!

"I don't get it," Arai complained. "What is so special about tea? Who even drinks tea?"

"Tea isn't exactly the drink of choice for those living underwater," Isla said. "I used to drink it every morning when we were on dry land."

"They toss leaves into water," Arai countered. "Juice is so much better."

"Consider it the subtle drink of the intelligent and patient."

"Thanks, but I'll stick with juice."

I began to wonder if video games were actually capable of frying someone's mind beyond repair. Corvus may ask a lot of questions, but Arai was a few pearls short of a pearl necklace.

"Drink whatever you want," I interrupted, "but I doubt you are going to find juice in this city."

"You mean they only have tea here?" Arai looked horrified, possibly at the thought of having to drink such a beverage.

I rolled my eyes. "I've seen twelve tea shops so far, a biscuit stand, but nothing else food-related."

"Let's get moving then," Arai urged. "Terrible food makes for terrible trips."

We hadn't come here for the food, but I let the discussion drop while we still agreed on at least one or two things.

He would figure out that we forgot to pack food and drink sooner or later. I had no problem drinking tea, but he could be going thirsty if he was too picky. Maybe he'd settle for water or something.

Our footsteps quietly echoed around us as we kept walking quickly towards our destination. If nothing else, these corridors were a blessing. We were making good time and hadn't seen anyone since getting off the street.