Part 41 (1/2)

”How could you tell they were 'terrists'?”

She clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. ”They were *whispering*,”

she said. ”Just like on *Captain President and the Freedom Fighters*.”

He knew something of this cartoon, mostly because of all the knock-off merch for sale in the market stalls in front of the ride.

”I see,” he said. ”Well, I'm glad the Sky Marshas stopped them. Do you want pancakes?”

”I want caramel apple chocolate pancakes with blueberry banana sauce,”

she said, rolling one pudgy finger along the description in the glossy menu, beneath an oozing food-p.o.r.n photo. ”And my brother wants a chocolate milkshake and a short stack of happy face clown waffles with strawberry sauce, but not too many because he's still a baby and can't eat much.”

”You'll become as fat as your daddy if you eat like that,” Perry said. Eva snorted beside him.

”No,” she said. ”I'm gonna be a fatkins.”

”I see,” he said. Eva shook her head.

”It's the G.o.dd.a.m.ned fatkins agitprop games,” Eva said. ”They come free with everything now -- digital cameras, phones, even in cereal boxes. You have to eat a minimum number of calories per level or you starve to death. This one is a champeen.”

”I'm nationally ranked,” the little girl said, not looking up from the menu.

Perry looked across the table and discovered that Suzanne had covered Lester's hand with hers and that Lester was laughing along with her at something funny. Something about that made him a little freaked out, like Lester was making time with his sister or their mom.

”Suzanne,” he said. ”What's happening with you these days, anyway?”

”Petersburg is what's happening with me,” she said, with a hoa.r.s.e little chuckle. ”Petersburg is like Detroit crossed with Paris. Completely decrepit and decadent. There's a serial killer who's been working the streets for five years there and the biggest obstacle to catching him is that the first cops on the scene let rubberneckers bribe them to take home evidence as souvenirs.”

”No way!” Lester said.

”Oh, da, big vay,” she said, dropping into a comical Boris and Natasha accent. ”Bolshoi vay.”

”So why are you there?”

”It's like home for me. It's got enough of Detroit's old brutal, earthy feel, plus enough of Silicon Valley's manic hustle, it just feels right.”

”You going to settle in there?”

”Well, put that way, no. I couldn't hack it for the long term. But at this time in my life, it's been just right. But it's good to get back to the States, too. I'm thinking of hanging out here for a couple months. Russia's so cheap, I've got a ton saved up. Might as well blow it before inflation kills it.”

”You keep your money in rubles?”

”h.e.l.l no -- no one uses rubles except tourists. I'm worried about another run of *US* inflation. I mean, have you looked around lately?

You're living in a third world country, buddy.”

A waiter came between them, handing out heaping, steaming plates of food. Lester, who'd finished his first breakfast while they waited, had ordered a second breakfast, which arrived along with the rest of them. Mountains of food stacked up on the table, side-plates crowding jugs of apple juice and carafes of coffee.

Incredibly, the food kept coming -- multiple syrup-jugs, plates of hash-browns, baskets of biscuits and bowls of white sausage gravy. Perry hadn't paid much attention when orders were being taken, but from the looks of things, he was eating with a bunch of IHOP virgins, unaccustomed to the astonis.h.i.+ng portions to be had there.

He c.o.c.ked his funny eyebrow at Suzanne, who laughed. ”OK, not quite a third-world country. But not a real industrial nation anymore, either. Maybe more like the end-days of Rome or something. Drowning in wealth and wallowing in poverty.” She forked up a mouthful of hash browns and chased them with coffee. Perry attacked his own plate.