Nanobots, Murder, and Other Family Problems

I grab a chunk of the spongy flatbread that Ibrahim calls lahoh. He nods approvingly, then uses some of it to grab a piece of lamb from the thick sauce. I follow his lead. It’s spicy and delicious, way better than the meals back on campus. We’re halfway through our pizza-sized platter of food when the girls follow their guide through the restaurant door. Both of them are looking a lot tanner since this morning. If I hadn’t nursed Louse through her hell day of withdrawal myself, I wouldn’t have known she’d been through it at all. Evan waves them over to join us.

They take seats on mats on the floor around our low table. Kofi, their guide, says something to the proprietor in a language I can’t recognize, and another platter appears moments later.

“You guys want to hit the markets with us after this?” Louise asks as she tentatively dabs the lahoh into the sauce. She eyes it suspiciously for a moment before taking a bite, but seems to like it. Andrea digs into the food with no hesitation. She smiles and repeats Louise’s invitation with her eyes.

“Sure, I guess,” I say, giving Evan a glance. “I mean, we hadn’t decided on anything for after lunch yet.” He nods approval, his mouth too full of lamb to answer.

Andrea laughs as I take another big bite. She waves one hand and little icons of a mouth and a stomach appear. The mouth chomps open and closed, then the stomach expands and both images flash away before anyone else at the restaurant notices.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Noah eat this much either,” Louise says. I’m glad she translated, because I wasn’t sure what Andrea meant by it.

“Well, if the food in the cafeteria tasted this good, I’d eat more.”

“Maybe we can get Father to change it up a little,” Evan says, his mouth finally clear as we run out of meat on our shared platter. “We should at least ask. This stuff is amazing.”

The girls agree as they finish up their lunch. Kofi settles our bill as Ibrahim leads us out toward the market district down the street.

The open-air booths carry a hundred fascinating things I’ll never need. The girls both stock up on long, colorful dresses. Ibrahim and Kofi do the haggling and purchasing, which takes a few minutes every time we buy something. They get some head scarves too. I seem to remember something about those from the briefing, but for some reason my memory is fuzzy and I have to look it up in my log. That’s right. Only the married women here are supposed to wear those. I ask Ibrahim about it, and he says it won’t be a problem if foreigners don’t follow the custom.

Most of the men here wear pants and shirts that don’t look all that different from my American clothes, so I don’t feel like I need anything, but I pick up some clothes anyway just to have some souvenirs. The only distinctly local menswear that I see hawked at the booths are long wrap skirts. I’m not ready to give up on pants, so I give those a pass, but Evan gets a few. I can see him pulling them off.

Everywhere we go, all the guys are chewing something that I figure is gum or tobacco until I flick through my briefing files in the console and remember that it’s a mild drug called khat. Evan tries to get Ibrahim to buy us some to try, but he refuses. I guess Father didn’t want us partaking. We don’t have any local money of our own, and we don’t speak the language, so no drugs for us, I guess. Probably for the best. Given what we’re packing in our heads, maybe we shouldn’t experiment with anything mind-altering.

The afternoon goes fast. The guides take us around to all the big tourist attractions. The Hamoudi Mosque near the markets looks like someone glued a lighthouse to the top of a brick. I guess I was expecting more minarets. We don’t go in, but we get a good look around the outside. When we’re done with that we check out a bunch of French colonial buildings in what Ibrahim calls the European quarter. They’re a little run down, but still fun to see.

The four of us get to the hotel right in time for our dinner reservation, but we’re the first ones to arrive. From the furniture and decor, the place could have been any upscale hotel in America. Maybe Father thought that would make us more comfortable. The host at the hotel restaurant leads us to some regular-sized tables with chairs, comfortable but not nearly as fun as the low tables and floor mats at our lunch place. I peruse the menu while we wait for Father. They serve a fusion of Middle Eastern, African, and French cooking. It smells great. Maybe I can make up some of the weight I’ve lost this year if we keep coming to places like this. I might even need to hit the rec room’s gym when we get back.

Jeff and Marc show up next. Marc is wearing one of the wrap skirts, and Jeff is gliding along next to him. I wonder if he’s been doing that all day or if he followed instructions and actually walked while he was out around town. Before I can ask, Chad and Father arrive, coming in through the front doors dressed in suits and ties.

“See, Chad,” Father says, taking us all in with a sweeping glance. “I told you they would be here on time. Your siblings are all very responsible.” Chad nods in acknowledgement, holding back his resentful look long enough to let Father turn away from him to sit down.

Father orders a ton of dishes to eat family style. While we wait for the food, everyone compares notes on their days. Jeff and Marc saw most of the same sights we did, just at different times. Chad and Father built up their clouds, then spent the rest of the day doing interviews with reporters.

Half a dozen waiters stream from the kitchen to the table and back several times, bringing out a veritable feast. It’s probably the best food I’ve ever tasted. Everyone seems to love it except Chad, who eyes it all suspiciously and only nibbles at the unfamiliar fare. Jeff even eats like a normal person, which is good since he’d probably get us thrown out if he worked his normal methods.

“Get some good rest tonight,” Father announces as we conclude the meal. “We have a big day tomorrow.”

We each get our own room. My only other experience with hotels is when Mom and I used to go on vacation. We always shared one of those hotel rooms with two queen beds, but I never minded that. Mom was so great to just spend time with. I could always talk to her about anything, though I can’t even remember what we used to talk about anymore.

Toiletries are laid out for me on the bathroom counter. I brush my teeth, strip down to my boxers, and flop onto the big, soft bed. It’s been a long couple of days. I can feel I’m slipping away. The nanobot control lockdown that keeps me from accidentally driving the cloud in my sleep kicks on. Weird, I usually don’t see that happen while I’m still awake.

Am I still awake?

Mmmm, sleep.