Falling Cities

V-e-r-i-s

I'd fantasized about the diner quite a bit. It wasn't​ what I predicted, hardly. It was a single row of booths along a window that overlooked a semi-abandoned parking lot. Only a few people where inside. A woman and her husband, and a baby. Two bruly men that laughed loudly. Lucinda called them "truckers."
Me and Foster had changed into normal-people clothes. They weren't as nice as the armor, just a plaid flannel and jeans for Foster, and a sundress and kapries for me.
When we arrived, a bell tingled. Hopefully nobody saw how panicked I got for a moment before Emmet explained it was just a bell.
We settled into the booth, me and Foster on one side and Emmet and Lucinda on the other.
She said she'd order for us, although I could read and speak perfectly well, so I'd vetoed decision, I'd order. I'd never talked to a normal person before. Well.. the US army guys, Arlo, TIB and the chipped scenitists at the center of the city. No.. no normals.
The waitress was a woman, she wore a little periwinkle dress and white pants.
She had on an apron and carried a pad and pen, to write down our orders? How effective! Was everyone outside the dome so smart?
She smiles and hands us four menus, brushing a lock of brown hair that had escaped her bun out of her face.
"Anything to drink right away?"
Lucinda eyes us. "Ever had coffee?" She smiles.
The way she smiled.. it made me not want coffee.
"Four coffees, all dark. Bring the creamer though, we'll probably need it."
She woman nods and walks off again.
"What is coffee?" Foster asks, in a strained whisper across the table.
"It's terrible-" Emmet begins.
"Shhh! No, it's great! The darker it is the more bitter." She laughs and puts her eyes on the menu.
"Besides, you two look like you need it."
It was quite strange that me and Foster both flick our gazes to each other. He did look tired, but he shouldn't have been, he slept fifteen hours a day. And I'll admit it made me very lonely. Most of the time I'd lay curled up next to him on his bed in our hotel room. He looked very... passive when he slept. I can only describe it like this; he didn't look like a guy who just destroyed an evil computer. His eyes were bloodshot, maybe the painkillers made him weary. I probably didn't look much better, although I hadn't sustained a serious injury, hopefully the scars on my face weren't too noticable, I did have pretty light skin. With skin so fair you could see EVERY flaw.
So what did coffee do? Did it magically heal you? Wouldn't be the most ridiculous thing I've heard of from Lucinda...
"Do you still have the bracelets?" Lucinda asks.
Foster takes his own off and throws it unto the table, the beads land with a soft little tink. "I think mine is broken." He says.
Lucinda picks it up and holds it too the light.
"Not broken. In fact, I think it's working perfectly!"
"But-"
"Ah ah! I never said it would keep you from getting hurt, just that you'd stay alive. 'Good health' not 'ward from danger.'"
He smiles, although it looks like he didn't want too, and nods, she gives it back.
"What about yours?"
"Mine is broke too."
"Nonsense, why?"
I hesitate for a moment, then smile.
"It allowed me too kiss him." I gently shove Foster into the wall.
Emmet laughs and Lucinda rolls her eyes.
"Children.." she mutters.
"Yes! It was like kissing a wall." He said, and I would've put up a phycological fight, but I didn't have the energy.
The waitress was back, a tray with four coffees in hand.
She laid them out in front of us. It was a gross smelling liquid, dark and steaming.
"It's safe isn't it?" I ask after the waitress is gone.
"Not yet, it'll burn your tounge off." Foster pushes his mug away.
"Nope. I value my tounge."
Emmet laughs.
"She only means that it's hot."
"Riiiiight." I say.
Nobody else makes a move to defend the coffee, in fact Lucinda picks up her menu and begins to read.
"Pancakes?" She offers.
"Never had them.."
"Want some?" Emmet asks.
"I don't know.."
"You'll love them."
Pancakes. I'll tell you exactly what I imagined at that moment. A pan full of little muffins.
But instead they where flat doughy bundles, slathered with maple syrup and butter.
I was too afraid to taste, although there wasn't much intimidating about pancakes now that i think about it, so Foster went first.
"How is it?" I ask.
He feigns disgust.
"Terrible!"
"Yeah right!" I take a forkful.
It's funny how not even three weeks ago I was eating vitamin power. You'd mix it into a cup of water and choke it all down until nothing remained. Three times a day for seventeen years.
But here was a diner, and a pancake.
A pancake that was probably worth destroying a rouge computer system for.
But that's just my opinion.
Emmet says he likes waffles better.