“This place is incredible,” he said out loud, nudging Kaal.
“Huh? What?” his friend replied. “You think the plates are inedible?”
John was so busy staring around, he didn’t notice the silver cart rolling across the floor until it stopped right in front of the group.
“Good evening, honored guests” the box-on-wheels said in a high-pitched voice. “You must be the party from Hyperspace High.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Ms. Vartexia said, nodding. “I believe we have a table reserved already, but I’m afraid we are missing two from our group.”
“That is quite all right,” the cart replied. “You are the only visiting party on the planet at the moment and we have arranged everything for your most supreme enjoyment. Please, follow me.”
Turning away, the cart-waiter trundled across the floor to a large, round table surrounded by MorphSeats and set for eighteen diners. In the center of the table was another crystal ball that looked like a smaller version of the restaurant itself. Blobs of brightly colored light moved through it.
Small name cards told each student where to sit. Silently, another cart on wheels rolled forward. A hatch opened in its side and long metal arms emerged, removing two of the place settings.
“They’ve really thought about this,” John whispered to Emmie, as he looked around the table. In front of him was a place setting that included a knife, fork, and spoon. Emmie’s place setting had the metal prong that Sillarans used for eating. Kaal’s had the Derrilian tarb, which looked like a cross between a large spoon and a fork.
“Thank you for noticing,” purred the waiter. Its own metal arm emerged and the machine clicked its fingers. Instantly, words appeared in the air above John’s plate: the menu. “At Optical Orbit we pride ourselves on providing the perfect dining experience for every guest,” the cart told him. “Everything must be exactly right.”
Glancing at the menu, John almost jumped with surprise. It listed all his favorite foods: spare ribs, cheeseburgers, sweet and sour chicken, lasagna, and more. In the side-order section he found fries, onion rings, coleslaw: again, everything he loved.
“How did you —” he began.
The cart made a noise that sounded to John like a little laugh. “We have our ways, sir,” it said.
“Cool, they have Derrilian Colca,” said Kaal, as the waiter rolled away. “And Nish Crab, and . . . hey, it’s all my favorite things.”
“Mine, too,” said Emmie. “How do they do that?”
“Most likely they take information from Archivus Major’s DNA scanners and cross-reference it to a database of your home planet’s most popular meals,” explained Lishtig. “Look, there is Trilbean Stew on my menu. I’m the only one on the entire planet of Slarce who hates Trilbean Stew.”
“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” said the cart-waiter, returning to the table. “There’s been a mistake.” It snapped its metal fingers again. The words over Lishtig’s place setting changed. “That menu was for a Slarcian visitor we had last week. This one,” he said, placing a new menu in front of Lishtig, “has Lormfry instead of Trilbean Stew.”
“But . . . but Lormfry’s my absolute favorite,” spluttered Lishtig.
“We know, sir. We know. Now, may I take your orders?”
After changing his mind at least thirty times, John finally decided on spare ribs, followed by macaroni and cheese, with chocolate cake for dessert.
At the end of the meal, he leaned back in his MorphSeat, patting his stomach. “That was the best food I’ve had since I left Earth,” he said happily. “I mean, the cafeteria on Hyperspace High isn’t bad, but that chocolate cake was the best ever.”
“Thank you, sir,” the cart-waiter replied, taking John’s empty plate and adding it to a teetering pile on the top of its flat surface. “I shall pass your compliments on to the robo-chef.”
“Have you seen Ms. Vartexia?” whispered Emmie. She nodded across the table, where the teacher was huddled over a large bowl of blue Elvian spaghetti. “That’s her third bowl.”
“For someone so thin, she really loves food,” replied John. He watched in awe as Ms. Vartexia shoveled in another mouthful. “Look, she’s calling the waiter over. She can’t be asking for another bowl . . . whoa! She is.”
Kaal leaned in, turning his good ear toward John to find out what he and Emmie were whispering about.
“I’ve never seen an Elvian eat like that,” he told them. “Normally, an Elvian portion size wouldn’t be big enough to feed a Derrilian Smallworm.”
Eventually, however, Ms. Vartexia managed to fill herself.
“Now,” squeaked the waiter as he took her empty bowl, “we have organized a special event for our guests from Hyperspace High: a private show by Great Red Spot.”
“What on Earth is this?” asked John, baffled.
A small stage had been set up. Four gently glimmering balls of gas hovered there. Twanging, high-pitched noises filled the air. He couldn’t tell how the strange sounds were being made.
“It’s music,” said Emmie.
“Are you sure?”
Emmie stared at him. “Of course I’m sure. Don’t you have music on your planet?” Before John could answer, she continued, “Great Red Spot is an incredible group. I love this song. It’s called ‘Take Me to Your Leader.’”
“Shouldn’t it have, you know, a tune?” John asked.
“A tune? How very primiti— old-fashioned,” Emmie said, smiling. “Let me guess, on Earth the musicians play hollowed out logs with the bones of their enemies, right?”
“On Earth, the musicians play music you can actually dance to,” John retorted. He looked at Kaal for support. Since they had started sharing a room, Kaal had heard a lot of the Earth music that John and Zepp both loved.
But this time, Kaal was no help at all. The Derrilian was standing and holding out a hand to Emmie. “Come on, Tarz,” he said. “Let’s show the Earthling how to dance.”
John almost choked with laughter as the two of them hit the flashing dance floor. Kaal, wings outstretched, looked like he was treading across hot coals. Every so often he would leap in the air, yowling.
Emmie, meanwhile, simply lifted one leg in the air and hopped up and down while flapping her hands.
Thinking they must be kidding around, John looked around the table, but no one else was laughing. In fact, more of the students were now getting up and joining Kaal and Emmie. As John spluttered in disbelief, Bareon bent over until he was clutching his own ankles and started shaking his backside in the air.
“Are you not dancing, John Riley?”
Biting back fresh gales of laughter, John looked across the table to see Ms. Vartexia looking at him. Covering her mouth, she burped. “Excuse me. As I was about to say: we Elvians do not dance — we don’t have the knees for it — but I believe it is a pleasurable experience. Why don’t you join your classmates?”
John opened his mouth to tell her that his classmates looked ridiculous and the music was dreadful. Then he stopped himself. Why not, he thought. If you can’t beat them, join them.
“Show us some Earth dancing!” Emmie shouted over the music as John arrived on the dance floor.
Trying not to giggle, he struck a pose he’d once seen in an old movie called Saturday Night Fever. Spinning on the spot, he found a beat somewhere in the bizarre music and began doing another funny move. Arms folded, he squatted close to the floor, kicking his legs out as quickly as he could.
“Wow!” shouted Emmie. “Great moves. You Earthlings can really dance.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” John replied. Raising his arms, he tried a new move over the polished floor.
Lishtig stared at him, jaw hanging open. “B-but it looks like you’re walking forward, when you’re actually going b-backward,” he said with a gasp.
“Yeah, on Earth we call it the Moonwalk,” said John, grinning.
“But that’s just silly!” yelled Kaal over the music. “Moons generally have a lower gravitational force than most planets, so a ‘moonwalk’ would look more like this . . . ” He leaped into the air, making large, slow movements.
John rolled his eyes. “It’s just a name, Kaal!” he called back. “Like break dancing. We don’t actually break anything.”
He dropped, showing off some basic street dance moves he’d learned at his last school. This brought him a round of applause from the onlookers. Even Ms. Vartexia, who was slumped back in her seat looking a little ill, clapped politely.
The sillier and more outrageous John’s dancing became, the more he impressed his classmates. While Great Red Spot bobbed on stage, John found himself at the center of a cheering circle.
“You didn’t tell me you were such a great dancer,” Emmie gasped, as the band finished their last song and floated away. “You could be a professional.”
John grinned, certain she must be pulling his leg, but as he looked into her navy-blue eyes he realized that the beautiful Sillaran was deadly serious.
“We Earthlings are naturally talented like that,” he replied, trying not to burst out laughing again.
Emmie nodded enthusiastically. “Can you teach me some of those moves when we get back to Hyperspace High?”
John was about to agree, but just then, Ms. Vartexia interrupted.
“Time for bed,” she said weakly. “Lots to do tomorrow.”
The Hyperspace History teacher was swaying slightly and her blue skin had a greenish tinge.
“But it’s still early,” groaned Kaal. “I’m having a good time.”
John shushed him. “If we keep her happy, maybe she’ll let us visit more interesting exhibits tomorrow,” he said.
“I’m tired anyway,” Emmie said with a yawn. “It’s been a long day. I could definitely use some sleep.”
The Shuttletube ride back to the space port passed quietly, except for Ms. Vartexia’s frequent burps (and, of course, her embarrassed apologies).
Soon, John was back in his Privateer. At the touch of a button, the MorphSeat transformed itself into a comfortable bed. In a small locker, he found a light cover and pillow. A panel slid back at the rear of the ship to reveal a small sink and toilet.
As he began changing into his pajamas, John worried about the transparent shell of the ship. People could see him!
Then he remembered that from the outside, the hull of the Privateer was opaque. What a relief.
After changing, John stretched out, feeling the MorphSeat warming beneath him.
“Not bad, huh?” Kaal’s voice said through the intercom.
“Very comfy,” John agreed.
“Okay. That reminds me of a Derrilian joke I heard once,” Kaal said. “Two explorers are camping on a planet they’ve just discovered. One turns to the other and says, ‘Can you hear something?’ The other looks up and says, ‘Only your feet.’”
There was a pause.
“Yes, and then what?” John asked. “What’s next?”
“That’s it. That’s the joke.”
“Oh, right —”
“Hahahaha!” John’s answer was drowned out by Emmie’s hysterical laughter. “That’s so funny. Do you want to hear a Sillaran gag?” she asked.
“Sure,” John said.
“A Sillaran high priest visits a space station. At the entry port is a Vesuvian Burbeast. ‘Hello,’ says the high priest, ‘there’s a holy relic named after you.’ The Burbeast looks at the priest and says, ‘What: Jartex?’”
This time both Kaal and Emmie howled with laughter.
“W-w-why aren’t you l-laughing, John?” Kaal finally managed to choke through his howls. “That’s hilarious.”
“Are Earth jokes as good as Earth dancing?” Emmie asked. “Tell us one.”
“Yeah, let’s hear an Earth joke,” Kaal agreed.
“Okay,” John replied. “Two cannibals are eating a clown. One turns to the other and says, ‘Does this taste funny to you?’”
There was a long silence.
“Still, at least Earthlings are good dancers,” said Emmie with pity in her voice.
All three of them found this funnier than any of the jokes. It set off a giggling fit that lasted long after they should have been asleep.
Eventually, however, Emmie’s yawns came more and more often and she finally dropped out of the conversation.
Before long, John heard the unmistakable grunts and horrible, loud grinding noises of his Derrilian roommate’s snores. Quickly, he reached out and switched off the intercom.
Looking up through the transparent shell of the small spaceship, he watched the twin moons and stars of the alien sky.
All in all, he decided, it had been a pretty good day. He had walked through a Martian dust storm and discovered a secret about the history of his own planet. The evening at Optical Orbit had been fantastic.
As his eyes closed, John wondered what fun the next day might bring.