I kissed her, the first time I’d initiated a kiss in my whole life. We kept on kissing for a long time, making everyone else in the Japanese Tea Garden jealous, or at the very least, super uncomfortable.
LIQUID-NITROGEN-FROZEN ICE CREAM
IT WASN’T THE RIGHT SEASON for it, but so what? Smitten Ice Cream was definitely one of the best reasons I could think of to remain on this big, stupid scoop of a planet. They made it on-site, using some super-complicated piece of technology that had probably been invented when someone up at Stanford had been trying to find a way to cryogenically freeze the human brain. Instead they ended up developing the creamiest, most delicious ice cream of all time. The seasonal flavor was cinnamon apple crisp; it tasted like a Pop-Tart.
The plastic tables around the truck were filled up with San Francisco techsters, all silly mustaches and plaid shirts and phablets. In the last few years, these guys had pretty much taken over the city, turning wood and brick to glass and steel, forcing us natives farther and farther out, like one of those forest fires that sets all the animals running until they end up falling off a cliff. My mom always said San Francisco was a city of good intentions, but even if that was true, who gave a shit about intentions? What mattered were results. And the results here were not looking good. Half the city looked like an iPad, and the other half looked like a slum. The rich folks tooled around in their Tesla Roadsters and their Uber town cars, while stepping onto a public bus was like buying a ticket to the crazy museum.
We walked away from the packed tables and took a seat on the bars of this little metal dome that kids were meant to play on. Zelda dipped her pink spoon into the ice cream, then raised it to her perfect rosebud mouth. Lucky spoon.
“Mmm,” she said, closing her eyes. “That’s amazing.”
Life-affirmingly amazing? I wrote in my journal.
She took another bite, savored, then slowly shook her head.
But this is the best ice cream on earth!
“That is arguable, Parker Santé. But even if it were, you’re forgetting that I’ve been alive for two and a half centuries. I’ve eaten a lot of ice cream.”
Liquid-nitrogen-frozen ice cream?
“Well, admittedly no. But have you ever heard of the law of diminishing returns?”
I shook my head.
“It’s a dictum of economics that says there will always be an eventual decrease in the marginal output of a production process as one aspect of the production is increased.”
I shook my head again, though this time it was to try and wring some semblance of sense from what she’d just said.
“Think about it like this. Can you remember the first time you were in an airplane?”
Sure. We went to visit my mom’s sister in Seattle. I was six years old, I think.
“Now tell me about the last time you were on a plane.”
Last summer. Exact same trip. Which sucked, by the way. My aunt is a bitch.
“Well, I can’t comment on that. But the odds are good that that first plane ride was pretty exciting. You were thirty-five thousand feet in the air, looking down on the clouds, and you managed to survive, right? That’s amazing! But I bet the last time you were on a plane, you weren’t remotely amazed. In fact, you were probably actively annoyed about having to sit still for hours on end and eat a bunch of mediocre food. That’s the law of diminishing returns. You always need a little bit more to reach the same high. It’s the fly in the ointment of immortality.”
God damn that was depressing. And hadn’t I been thinking the same thing just last night, remembering how awesome Halloween had been when I was younger, and how lame it was now?
It’s no different for non-immortal people, I wrote.
“Sure it is.”
I don’t think so. Like, take my dad. His most successful book was his first one. And my mom hasn’t remarried because she doesn’t think she could ever love anyone as much as she loved my dad. And it’s true for me, too. When I was in elementary school, I loved going to school. I was seriously psyched to learn shit. Now I can barely stay awake through second period. I’ve just done it all too many times.
“Huh,” Zelda said, “maybe you’re right.”
We finished our ice cream, which now seemed to get a little less delicious with each bite. Zelda