that. The Building Association stepped forward. The Elder, Doreem Nagi, apparently said that nobody in his building would die a slow death alone. The Elder has the legal powers of a magistrate: he can marry people, divorce them, he acts as a civil judge and so when he made that decision, people listened, and the building collectively took care of her. There were about three thousand people assigned to the building, but toward the end with the war and all only about seven hundred residents remained and every day someone watched my mother and made sure that she had food, was clean, and took her pain killers. I owe them a debt I may never get an opportunity to repay."
"I take back my sad story," Ven said. "Yours is worse."
She shrugged. "There isn't much more to tell. I would wake up, go to work, come home, fall asleep. I did this for fourteen years. And then suddenly the war was over. We didn't even know. They told us we were winning until the very end."
She sensed discomfort emanating from him. Her story affected him, but he wasn't sure how to respond without offending her. Mighty Venturo Escana, at a loss for words.
"Well, that part of my life is over. Now I'm here," Claire said. "Drinking pink wine and enjoying good company.
"And eating meat cooked by a barbaric user of fossil fuels," Ven said.
"I love the food here," she confessed. "I don't know what most things are, so I just order at random."
"New Delphi is the culinary capital of the South. Or it claims to be. Truth is, everyone in the Provinces is expected to learn to cook whether we like it or not."
"Oh?"
"Oh yes. In the Provinces, if a woman is a bad cook, people make jokes." He leaned closer. "Mina, Lienne's daughter? Can't cook at all. Everything she makes tastes awful."
Claire smiled. "I'm sure anything I made would be awful as well. Sometimes when I taste food, my mouth feels overwhelmed. This whole planet is overwhelming: the clothes, the colors, the people..."
He leaned toward her. "You're the most disciplined, grounded person I know, Claire. I've never seen anyone hit the ground running the way you did. Nothing rattles you. If you had a psycher mind, you would be something else on the bionet."
She could tell him. He wouldn't betray her. She could...
"I feel at ease with you," he said. "Your mind is so calm. Every day I deal with people whose minds are a source of constant noise. When we work together, I can finally relax."
She almost screamed in frustration.
"You understand the way I think. I want you to know that I value that greatly. I promise, I won't put you into harm's way again. It took courage to handle it the way you've done. You stood by me. Not many employees would in your place. I won't ever forget that."
Employee... That's what she was, an employee. She shouldn't have deluded herself.
"Did I say something unpleasant?" he asked.
"Not at all. I just realized it's late. I should be getting home." He would never see her as anything else. She was Claire with a quiet mind. That was her value to him. She had mistaken his friendliness and concern for something deeper.
"I'll walk you to the ground floor."
She rose. "It's alright. I know the way."
Ven got up. "Let me walk you down."
She turned and looked at him, keeping her voice flat. "It's not necessary. Thank you for the meal."
Claire turned and walked away.
Chapter Five
"One blue pepper, cut into strips," the Artificial Intelligence announced.
Claire surveyed the small heap of ingredients on her kitchen island. "Define blue pepper."
"Blue pepper: pungent fruit of a Moloccy species rich in lycopene and Vitamin C. Flavor: sweet, slightly bitter. Appearance: dark blue, cylindrical shape tapering toward the tip."
The picture of a blue pepper ignited on the kitchen's digital screen. Claire plucked the pepper from the bunch and placed it on her cutting board. "Demonstrate."
The AI opened a frame showing a woman deftly chopping the pepper into five millimeter wide rings.
Claire watched it for a few seconds, picked up the knife, and chopped the pepper.
It was Saturday morning and she had woken up with a sudden need to prove to herself that she could cook. Immigration had fully stocked her refrigerator with raw ingredients, so she set them out on the counter and had the AI run a comprehensive analysis finding a combination that would result in a beginner-level recipe.
"One peeled compa, cut into strips."
"Define compa."
"Compa: fleshy