| |
Roman’s next assignment was one that he could figure out tomorrow afternoon. After changing back into his work clothing, he met Coma in the gymnasium, where she sat with her legs crossed on one of the tumbling mats.
The partially nude woman stood, her hands clasped behind her back. He would need to get her new clothing now, considering parts of her clothes were burnt off, including her mask.
He recalled the flame that had encompassed her body, remembering how terrible it felt to watch someone he knew suffer. He understood Ava’s lesson, but that didn’t mean he cared for the way she’d taught it.
“What are your plans for tonight?” Coma asked.
“I will try not to bring someone home tonight. But if I do, I really need you to behave yourself.”
If Coma was ashamed of her performance last night, there was no indication of it on her face. It was odd seeing her without her mask, though, and the fact that her eyes were red only made her look that much stranger: curly black hair, soft porcelain skin, a singed sexy maid’s costume, a pair of ballet slippers.
She remained otherworldly.
He placed a hand on her shoulder and mentally ordered a teleporter. The teleporter arrived in a matter of seconds, this one wearing a pair of sleek, wraparound sunglasses.
The woman lightly touched Roman and Coma; they reappeared in his apartment in a matter of seconds, the female teleporter gone in a flash.
“I have to get dressed,” he told her as he went to his bedroom.
“Can I help you?”
“No, but I appreciate it. You need to get dressed yourself.”
Roman changed into a new collarless shirt and overcoat. He checked himself in the mirror, felt like his face looked a little dirty, and carefully washed it. Once he was in a recently polished pair of shoes, he mentally messaged Nadine.
Where are we meeting?
The message came back a few minutes later. Good, glad this is actually happening. There is an Eastern Province restaurant I want to try on 21st Street, in the Goa District. The name is Blue Lagoon.
I’m ready now, if you are.
I’m ready.
Roman ordered another teleporter. “I’ll be back later,” he told Coma, who leaned against the couch, staring at him in a strange way.
“Do you mind if I go out?” she asked, turning to the window.
“You don’t have any, um, clothing.”
She smirked at him. While he had washed his face, she’d changed into the second set of clothing that’d come with her package. She even wore a black mask, which matched the heels that’d also come with her getup.
“I look good in it, don’t I?”
“I’m not contesting that. It’s just that, well, you are dressed somewhat like a super—at least a super tasked with group duties.”
“Group duties?”
“Some supers are put into teams by our government, and these teams are used to stop vigilantes, as well as go to war.”
She nodded. “Supers war?”
“Yes, and it isn’t pretty. Just ask the Western Province.”
“How can I ask them if I can’t leave?”
The teleporter appeared, a male with long hair that was braided at one side. “Ready?”
“You’re right,” Roman said to Coma, “and we’ll figure all that out soon. Just sit tight for now.”
Nadine stood outside the restaurant wearing a tight green dress that matched her eyes. Her dirty-blond hair was in a bun and she had a shawl over her shoulders, the ends of it braided. On her finger was a silver ring with a single gemstone that Roman hadn’t noticed before.
“Glad you could make it,” she said, as she turned to the entrance.
“This the place, huh?”
“Yep. Blue Lagoon. Hard to find?”
“Not with a teleporter, no. Taking the trolley may have been an issue.”
“There’s a stop on 20th and 35th just a block away.”
“Good to know,” Roman said, as a man at the entrance took his jacket and her shawl. The man told them to take a seat, that their waitress would be with them shortly.
“How was work today?” Roman asked, not quite sure what it was they were supposed to be discussing.
“Work was work. You?”
“Learned something new,” he said, recalling how he’d been able to modify a document’s ink.
“Oh yeah? What did you learn?” Nadine took her seat and the busboy quickly brought two glasses of water.
“I learned something new about, um, document processing.”
“Care to share?”
He smiled. “Nothing important, just something new about how I should arrange the pages. Anyway, you? Any teleporter drama?”
“Not really. We had an unauthorized arrival in southern Centralia, from an Alliance school for teleporters, but it was an honest mistake. Still, we had to issue them paperwork. You know how Centralia can be.”
“I do.”
The menus came, and Nadine placed her hand on Roman’s, preventing him from opening it. “Just trust me on this.”
“Fine by me.”
Roman lifted his hands away from the menu and held them in the air.
“I’m not robbing you,” she said with a flirty smile, “I’m feeding you.”
“Well, I hope.”
“I grew up in eastern Centralia,” she said. “There were tons of ethnic restaurants from the Eastern Province. I’m not an expert on Eastern food, but I’m a fan.”
“You’re in charge. Order whatever you think I’d like.”
Their booth was cozy, dimly lit, and the restaurant was done up to pay homage to the East. Looking Nadine over, Roman noticed that her outfit too paid homage; the dress that nicely framed her figure was the same green as the Eastern Province flag.
The waiter set a wicker basket of blackened bread on the table. He poured oil into a small saucer and ground baked garlic on top of the oil.
“Tell the chef we would like a set meal for two.”
“Spice level?” the waiter asked Nadine.
“Medium with a tang. Also, a bottle of wine. Do you have apple wine from the border?”
“I believe we got a fresh shipment today.”
“We’ll take a bottle of that.”
“Wonderful.”
The waiter bowed his head and was gone.
“So...” Nadine said.
“So...”
They both started laughing.
“You know, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a while, and when it happens, I have nothing to say.”
“So you knew it would happen?” Nadine asked.
“No, but I hoped it would happen, and these hopes led me to assume it would take place.”
“Well, I’m glad I met your expectations. I have to be honest with you: I’ve been trying to figure you out.”
Roman raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s there to figure out?”
“Well, we really hadn’t talked much until we met on the roof.”
“Kevin.”
“Yeah, that guy, poor man, and to think he was saved by the super who was having sex with his wife.”
Roman shrugged. “In the end, he really was a loser—a poor loser.”
“I thought he was your friend.”
“Are you friends with your cubicle mate?”
Nadine thought of Sarah and the fact that she’d taken over all her work this week. “She’s okay. A bit annoying, to be honest.”
“Kevin was the same way. There was nothing bad about him, but he was just kind of sad.”
“Clearly.”
“And how it played out in the end...”
“Insult to injury.”
“Definitely. Thanks,” Roman told the waiter as he poured his glass of apple wine.
Nadine took her first sip and sighed. “Tell me more about you, Roman.”
“More about me?”
“That’s a cool watch you have, by the way,” she said, nodding her chin at his power dial.
“Oh this?” He cleared his throat. “It’s nothing. Not a watch. Just a device a friend of mine gave me. He’s a Type IV, Class E. Sorry, I shouldn’t talk like that in public.”
Nadine laughed. “It sounds better than saying he’s a non-dangerous exemplar who has heightened intelligence.”
“Anyway, it tracks my vitals,” Roman said. “He’s testing it out on me, so if you see it turn on or anything, ignore it.”
“Will do.”
Roman took a sip of the apple wine. “Wow, this stuff is really good! I’ve had apple wine before, but never of this caliber.”
“And it’s cheaper here than the stuff you’d get at a market in the city center. The stuff from the East is great.”
“Clearly.”
“How much do you know about the East?” Nadine asked.
“What we learned in school.” Roman swirled his apple wine, watching it spiral around the inside of his wine glass. “I know, that’s a terrible answer, but not many of the exemplars I’ve dealt with from the Eastern Province open up about their lives. I’ve heard of its beauty, and of its poverty. Others have told me it is much nicer than Centralia, or at least the nature is. The cities, not so much. Not like the West and its destroyed cities, but definitely run down.”
Nadine bit her lip for a moment.
She’d been in Centralia long enough to know that stereotypes existed, and many of them had a ring of truth to them. That didn’t diminish the fact that what Roman had said had been offensive to her—no one liked hearing their country was a shithole. But she knew where he was coming from, and she’d been in Centralia long enough to accept it.
“Do you feel bad for the other countries?”
“I don’t feel anything for them, and I don’t mean that in a cold way. I feel the same way about Centralia. It’s where I was born. I have an affinity for it because of this reason. I’m not a patriot,” he said, honestly. “A person can’t help where they’re from, just like how we can’t help that we’re non-exemplars. It’s the way things are.”
Nadine set her wine glass down. “Don’t you feel for your countrymen? If they’re injured, or you see one of them being exploited in some way, does it bother you?”
“This is a pretty heavy conversation for a first meeting, don’t you think?”
Nadine laughed. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come up like that.”
“Not your fault at all. I don’t want you to think I don’t care for my country; I just realized long ago that all countries are flawed, that I’m flawed, and that all I can do is hope to survive and not get squashed by a Type II.” He lifted his wine glass.
“I can toast to that.”
The topic of their conversation changed as food came, and the mood lightened. Roman felt guilty for saying the things he had, but if Nadine cared, she wasn’t showing it.
The Eastern Province’s food was good—lots of meat, sausage, prime rib, bread, potatoes, hardy things. Stuff with substance, and with that famous Eastern Province spice, which had a totally unique aftertaste that lingered on Roman’s tongue, sitting somewhere between his tonsils and the bridge of his mouth. He was completely satiated by the end of their dinner.
Their conversation moved on to work-related topics, from the differences in their departments to their supervisors, to how long they had been in the administration building, to what it must be like to work with immigration for non-exemplars.
Both Roman and Nadine only worked with exemplars, and the protocols for those without powers were entirely different. It was also harder to emigrate that way, especially if you didn’t have money.
Roman didn’t know what was in store for the rest of the night, but he had a feeling things were going well when Nadine ordered another bottle of apple wine. He would have enjoyed it too, had it not been for the pressing message from the hospital.
Mr. Martin, this is a nurse at the intensive care unit...
The message didn’t need to finish playing out. Roman had been dreading it for the last year.
He’d known it was coming, that it would only be a matter of time.
“I have to go,” he said suddenly.
“What’s wrong?” Nadine asked, concern spreading across her face and furrowing her brow.
“It’s my...” Roman gulped. The person’s name was what made it hard, the noun only half as difficult.
“Please, if there’s anything I can do.”
“I need to get to the hospital on 43rd and 25th.”
“I’ll go with you.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “No, I’ll go alone.”
“Trust me, I can help. Whatever it is, I can help.”
Roman laughed bitterly as he tossed his cloth napkin onto his plate. “Unless you know a healer...”
“Just trust me on this.”
