Soup Night on Union Station

by E. M. Foner

  Kelly stared at Ortha as the skin on his face began turning darker, and taking notice, the Horten ambassador glanced down at the backs of his hands, which were already black with the lie.

  “Stupid polygraph skin,” he muttered. “All right, already. My son Mornich told me that it’s rude to keep running you through decontamination when his girlfriend practically lives in your hold and he visits her there almost every day. Satisfied?”

  “I never even opened my mouth,” Kelly said, watching as Ortha’s skin color faded into light yellow with pink patches. “You’re not nervous about something, are you?”

  “The only thing that could make me nervous would be if you told me you changed your mind about bidding on the All Species Cookbook. Have you?”

  “No,” Kelly replied, following her colleague into a small café that happened to be empty. A suspicious blast of air hit her as she crossed the threshold, and for a moment, all of her hair stood up as some sort of electrostatic field came into play. On the whole, it was much less intrusive than the decontamination procedure for aliens at the Horten embassy.

  “The usual, plus whatever my colleague is having,” Ortha said to the counterperson.

  “On the embassy tab?” the middle-aged Horten woman asked.

  “Of course. And you may as well add one of those decorative jars of candy if you have any left. My receptionist can’t get enough of them.”

  “Do you have any tea that would be safe for me?” Kelly asked.

  The counterwoman, who apparently lacked an implant, didn’t even seem to realize that she was being addressed until Ortha said, “A cup of Human Gentility for my friend, and if you have any Gem chocolate?”

  “Oh, no. I’m on a diet,” the EarthCent ambassador protested, but only after a strategic pause that allowed the plate of chocolates to be placed on the counter. “Since you insist…”

  Ortha shrugged and accepted a tall glass of a bubbly purple concoction and a mug of hot water with a teabag still in its wrapper. “Will this do?” he asked.

  “Earl Grey,” Kelly read the packaging. “I was wondering what you meant by Human Gentility.”

  “That’s what my son calls it. He has my wife and daughters drinking it by the kettleful, and then they complain they can’t sleep at night.”

  “How old are your daughters?”

  “Old enough to know better,” the ambassador grumbled, leading Kelly to a table. “Did your meetings with Bork and Czeros go well?”

  “You know about that? But I just met Czeros by chance in the lift tube on the way here. “

  “A little bird told me. Don’t be surprised if Crute and the Grenouthian ambassador get in touch.”

  “Because of the cookbook? But they’ve already had their turns editing.”

  “The cookbook is a known friction point and they’ll get grief at home if they don’t at least make an effort to get their licks in. What did Bork ask you to write about us?”

  “Nothing. He expressed his sorrow that a small matter like a few words in a cookbook had contributed to such a bone of contention between your peoples.”

  Ortha glanced down at the backs of Kelly’s hands to see if her skin color was changing before recalling that humans could lie with impunity.

  “Be that as it may, it’s traditional for the outgoing editors to provide a preface for the next edition of the cookbook explaining what they learned from the experience.”

  “Nobody mentioned that to me.”

  “It’s been the case for at least the last fifty thousand years.”

  Kelly nibbled on a chocolate to buy time while her teabag steeped, and she spotted the flaw in Ortha’s argument. “Nobody has brought out a new edition in longer than that. You’re trying to take advantage of our short time horizon to put one over on me.”

  “Wasn’t my idea. The truth is, there’s a government faction that works to keep our feud with the Drazens alive any way they can for political purposes. Unfortunately, they’re the ones who originally appointed me. Now I can tell them that I tried my best and failed.”

  “I’m not sure if we’ll win the bid, Ortha, but if we do, the one thing I know is that we won’t be taking an idea that was intended to bring the tunnel network species closer together and turn it into a weapon, propaganda or otherwise. Our goal will be to create a cookbook that honors everybody’s culinary traditions with recipes we can all enjoy.”

  “Did Bork tell you that their cookbook implied that Hortens feel we need to irradiate the whole kitchen before cooking?”

  “He mentioned something about utensils. I thought it was a low blow.”

  “It was the whole kitchen. Everybody sterilizes their utensils. It takes just a second and a quality countertop radiation source only costs—” Ortha noticed that Kelly was gaping at him and moved on. “Did he and Czeros explain why cookbook editors feel the need to include such insulting content?”

  “I thought it was just tit-for-tat.”

  “There’s a bit of that too, but the real motivation is financial.”

  “I don’t understand,” Kelly said. “Somebody pays the cookbook editorial staff to insult the other species?”

  “Producing an All Species Cookbook is a balancing act. On one hand, the editors need to publish recipes that won’t kill any of the tunnel network species while hiding how bad it all tastes with a language nobody understands. On the other hand, if you don’t sell enough copies of the initial printing, it will be judged a failure and you’ll lose face as a species.”

  “That’s the craziest thing I’ve heard since you all thought that humanity was trying to show you up by playing that Raider/Trader game. You’re telling me that you and the Drazens and the Frunge before them—”

  “And the Dollnicks and the Fillinducks,” Ortha interjected.

  “—all published snarky cookbooks in order to sell copies to readers who enjoy that sort of thing in bad translations.”

  “Don’t knock it until you try marketing a cookbook that doesn’t have a single recipe you would eat if you were starving.”

  Five

  “Thank you for coming, Jonah,” Dorothy greeted Vivian’s twin brother as he paused on the threshold of the design room at SBJ Fashions. “Come right in and make yourself at home.”

  “Sorry I’m late,” the young man said, threading his way through an obstacle course of clothing dummies, all of which were draped in fashionable attire. “Has Margie learned any new tricks?”

  “She crawls now when she’s not asleep. I’m thinking of getting a crib or a playpen for work since I can’t count on her staying in one place if I take her out of the bassinet.”

  “Did you want my advice? I’ve probably seen more types of cribs and playpens than the people who make them, and I help Tinka maintain the blacklist.”

  “InstaSitter blacklists people for using cribs?”

  “I probably said that wrong. We publish a list of unsupported equipment, mainly enclosures and apparatus that create an unsafe environment. Our sitters are trained to refuse the assignment if they see a potential hazard in the work area.”

  “Mom says that the first time Dring saw Samuel in a playpen he mistook it for a cage, but I’ve never heard of safety issues.”

  “Really? Babies can get into all sorts of trouble as soon as you give them something to pull themselves up on or stick their heads through. I can send you our holographic training course if you like.”

  “No, it would probably keep me from sleeping. How’s the LARPing league you run for InstaSitter doing?”

  “It sort of runs itself at this point,” Jonah said. “Tinka suggested early on that we give the raid leaders perks for handling the organizational details, and since they’re all InstaSitters who have gone through our training, it’s worked out really well. I’m just a figurehead at this point.”

  “Is it still mainly girls?”

  “That’s the funny thing. Since we started the LARPing league, the number of guys applying to be InstaSitters has soared, but
when it comes time to set their work schedules, they end up opting for the minimum number of hours.”

  “Do they make good babysitters?”

  “We don’t assign many of them to babysit. Tinka has been expanding some of our other services, like dog walking and on-call companions for the elderly to go grocery shopping. Once you have the network in place and tens of thousands of part-timers on the books, it turns out that there are plenty of employment opportunities. Mom always hires InstaSitters to make deliveries for those translated alien romance books she publishes.”

  “On paper? I read them on my tab.”

  “It’s a retro thing, I guess. I stopped by her office once when they were doing a shoot for the book covers and she wouldn’t let me stay and watch,” he added sheepishly.

  “So what are you doing with your free time these days?” Dorothy asked, crossing her fingers behind her back. “I’ll bet you’re pretty popular with the girls.”

  “Is that why you asked me here? Are you trying to set me up?”

  “No, and besides, you have the greatest setup of all times. You know that any girl who passes the InstaSitter test must be nice.”

  “I go on some LARP dates but nothing serious,” Jonah said. “Why are you asking?”

  “The thing is, I’m starting a new dancing circuit to boost demand for our ballroom fashions,” Dorothy said. “I remembered the other day that you were Vivian’s first partner in the Vergallian competitions, and I’ve seen you dance enough to know you’re still good.”

  “I’m not anywhere near Sam’s level.”

  “I want to get away from the whole competitive aspect and create a more casual dancing experience, but with the latest fashions,” Dorothy amended herself hastily. “I have a few ideas about tempting people to come, but since they won’t be professionals, just getting them out onto an empty dance floor could be tricky.”

  “You could start with the Stryx dance,” Jonah suggested. “Nobody can resist that.”

  “Jumping and clapping in heels and a gown just looks silly. What I was thinking is that if I could get a few males from each species to act as, I don’t know what to call it—”

  “Shills?”

  “What’s a shill?”

  “Somebody who places a fake bid at an auction to start the action or increase the pricing.”

  “No, it’s more like—”

  “Gigolos?”

  “No! I mean, it would be better if you bring a date, though your grandmother suggested I try singles nights where males get in free and don’t pay for their first drink. And I was wondering if you could run a search through the InstaSitter employee records for any guys who list formal dance training on their resumes.”

  “I’d have to ask Tinka about that,” Jonah said. “She’ll probably refuse unless you do it as an influencer thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “InstaSitter has all sorts of perks for current and former sitters, one of which is that they can sign up for free stuff from manufacturers who are trying to get the word out. Hey, I think it started with the giveaway you guys did for SBJ Fashions a few years ago.”

  “How could I forget? Great, tell her we want to do that. And can I count on you to dance?”

  “If it’s not too often, I guess. I’m teaching a cooking class for InstaSitters and—”

  “You cook?” Dorothy interrupted. “Vivian can barely make a sandwich. I’ve told my brother that if he wants to eat after they’re married he better move in back home or learn how to cook himself.”

  “She can’t be good at everything,” Jonah defended his twin. “Vivian was always at dance practice with Sam after school, and I sort of picked it up from mom and grandma. Last year I took the InstaSitter cooking courses because I’m the guinea pig for everything we offer, and then I started teaching because Dad says that’s the best way to learn.”

  “So you don’t plan on going to the Open University?”

  “What for?” Jonah asked with a shrug. “If I get tired of working at InstaSitter it would make more sense to start my own business than to go to school to become somebody else’s employee.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” Baa announced her presence, as she weaved her way through the clothing dummies. “Are you here to see me about getting your gear enchanted? You could rule the InstaSitter LARPing league like a king.”

  “Dorothy invited me to talk about the new dance thing she wants to do to market her shoes and stuff,” Jonah replied. “I saw a replay of the raid you led in the exhibition match, Baa. Nobody is going to want to play against your team anymore if you keep beating them so badly.”

  “They need to farm more mobs and level up,” the Terregram mage retorted. “Kids these days don’t want to put in the time.”

  “But your character is an infinite level goddess.”

  “And I’ve been grinding for longer than any of the tunnel network species have worn clothes. Speaking of clothes, what’s your new marketing idea, Dorothy?”

  “I was talking, well, complaining to Kevin about how sales have stopped growing for our shoes and gowns, and he suggested that we do something to increase demand. Since our market is concentrated on the tunnel network stations where the populations of any given species are limited, most of our potential customers just don’t have enough opportunities to dress up and go dancing.”

  “Don’t try going up against the Vergallians,” Baa advised. “They’ve had a lock on the competitive ballroom circuit for the last million years.”

  “I don’t want to start a league or anything. I just want to convince club owners to host formal dance nights, or maybe to organize mixers at independent venues, the way our embassy manager does for EarthCent.”

  “If you’re talking about more than a few local dances you’ll need a hook to make it work,” the Terregram mage said. “Let me talk it over with Jeeves and I’ll get back to you.”

  “Did somebody call my name?” Jeeves asked, floating into sight above the clothing dummies.

  “Stop doing that,” Dorothy said. “It’s spooky. How long have you been eavesdropping?”

  “I just arrived,” the young Stryx said. “When Shaina pinged me and said that you wanted us to sit down and discuss something that didn’t involve spending my creds on exotic dress materials, I hurried right over.”

  “I’ve got to get going or I won’t have time to prepare the ingredients for this afternoon’s class,” Jonah said. “Try to let me know a few days ahead if you need me.”

  “Coming, Baa?” Dorothy asked as she went to pick up the bassinet with her sleeping baby.

  “I’ve got something to work on and you’ve already told me about your idea,” the mage said. “Leave Margie here. She hates meetings.”

  Shaina and Brinda were waiting in the lunch room, and as Jeeves floated to his familiar position at the head of the table, Dorothy realized that she hadn’t prepared a formal presentation.

  “I’m still working on this idea so you’ll have to give me some leeway on numbers,” she said. “Imagine that SBJ Fashions sponsored—”

  “No,” Jeeves interrupted.

  “Excuse me?”

  “No, no, no, no, no. There, I feel better. Proceed.”

  Dorothy looked questioningly at Shaina, who just rolled her eyes. Brinda gave the EarthCent ambassador’s daughter an encouraging smile, so Dorothy took a deep breath and started over.

  “When do the women who buy our fashions wear them?” she asked.

  “Formal social occasions like weddings and dates,” Shaina replied immediately. “We’ve got some really good data on this from our last customer satisfaction survey.”

  “And would you say that people are having weddings and going on dates more, or less.”

  “About the same as ever, I’d guess. Why would it change?”

  “Exactly my point. If we’re going to sell more on the tunnel network, we need to increase the amount of dancing.”

  “And I take it you have some expensive suggesti
ons about how we can go about doing this,” Jeeves said.

  “Well, I talked to Chastity, and she said one way would be to bring back the Wanderers—”

  “No!” Jeeves thundered, and all of the lights on his casing began to blink rapidly. “Are you trying to give me a nervous breakdown? Gryph would ban me from Union Station if I did anything to encourage the Wanderers to return.”

  “It’s just that they had a whole ship dedicated to dancing,” Dorothy continued unperturbed. “But if you won’t even consider it, at least you can help co-sponsor a new series of dances. It’s mainly financing for promotions, since the dances should pay for themselves through ticket prices or drink orders if they’re held at nightclubs.”

  “That sounds worth looking into, but we’re going to need more details,” Brinda said. “Have you already lined up these co-sponsors you mentioned?”

  “Not exactly, but I’m sure that Mom, I mean, the All Species Cookbook will go along, since it’s a natural fit for cross-species promotion, and I know that Chastity will throw her weight behind anything that involves dancing. I was thinking of asking her husband to produce some holographic lessons that we could distribute to guys who are interested but who don’t know how to dance.”

  “I don’t want to hear another word about it until you can show me a budget,” Jeeves said. “If that’s all you have for me today, I promised Paul to help him move some of the leftover ships that Aisha bought him to the auction lot.”

  “Paul is selling ships? I thought that Dad and he were going to take their time working through them all and either restore them or strip the usable parts.”

  “They’re keeping the more interesting ships, but with the new rental business, they want to get rid of the dead weight and replace it with more rental stock.”

  “Wouldn’t it be more efficient to do that at a swap meet?” Shaina asked. “I remember seeing a couple of those on other stations back when SBJ Fashions was still SBJ Auctioneers.”

  “There aren’t any swap meets scheduled for Union Station anytime soon. It’s not worth the expense and trouble of dragging all of the ships through the tunnel and then to be stuck trading them for whatever is available to avoid having to make the return trip,” Jeeves said. “You know better than most that auctions are the best mechanism for price discovery. Whatever the ships bring, that’s what they’re worth today.”