Read Online April 8: It's Always Something by Mackey Chandler - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mackey Chandler
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the news feeds, not even what I could get repeated from European sources. There's something else...you should know I'm not a citizen of Home, so that guy wasn't my countryman strictly speaking. But I intend to fix that the next time I'm resident on Home."
"You see? That's the sort of thing I was hoping to hear first hand, how tight the censorship is working there. I have some sources I can ask, but it's always better to hear it yourself and have multiple sources. Would you mind if we order so it can be on the way while we talk?" Jan asked.
"No, please do. I'm not a picky eater, you can just order for me," Kurt volunteered.
"I always get whatever the special is," Jan said. "It has never disappointed and they don't repeat too often." Jan lifted a finger briefly and their waiter materialized at his elbow. Kurt was impressed. He usually had to crane his neck and wave to get a waiter to acknowledge his existence.
"Arash, my associate and I would like the special, and some extra of the garlic spread."
"It is kibbeh labanieh today, Mr. Hagen. I had it myself just a bit ago. Very good!" he promised.
Jan called a few words to his back before he'd gone far in that other language Arash had used at the door. Arash just waved an acknowledgement over his shoulder.
"What is that? Arabic?" Kurt asked.
"Farsi. Arash is Persian," Jan informed him.
"Does that mean Iranian?"
"That most specifically means not Iranian, as far as Arash is concerned. Best to humor him on that," Jan suggested. "He'll be polite to customers, but he may tell you in some detail why he isn't Iranian. Of course you wouldn't understand most of the curses, so it would be far less dramatic."
"Got you. I won't go there," Kurt agreed.
"So tell me," Jan asked. "How is it you decided to return to Earth, and then made what I have to assume was a very large effort to return?"
Kurt poured out his tale, starting with his sister, and how bored he'd gotten with the lack of fun things to do on Home. How he missed the open sky and fresh seafood, the Southern Steak House on George Street and the ma and pa hamburger place in his old neighborhood that then disappointed him by being closed. The clubs where you could waste a night wonderfully with friends listening to live music.
Jan nodded thoughtfully, raised an occasional eyebrow, looked skeptical on occasion and hardly said a word himself until Kurt was recounting his job search and the benevolent old cop who had been exceedingly honest with him. He had no idea he was in the hands of a master interrogator. By the time the entree came he'd told Jan things he wasn't even aware he'd known.
They had been served a tiny tabbouleh salad, which Arash informed them was all lunar sourced. It seemed normal, except instead of seeded and diced tomatoes it was tiny grape tomatoes each cut in eight pieces. There were fresh puffed loaves of pita bread so hot and full of steam they couldn't handle them at first. They were served a crushed lentil soup that was so good Kurt had to talk less and savor it. It was obviously made with stock not water, thick and full of cumin and pepper and something else Kurt couldn't identify. Arash apologized that they had no fresh lemons, but offered a bottle of lemon juice concentrate in a vinegar bottle. Kurt noticed Jan only got a cup and he was served a bigger bowl.
The main dish was a hot thick yogurt sauce with generous footballs of kibbeh half submerged in it, served in a large shallow soup plate. They shared a dish of Syrian rice with almond slivers and a few small bites of vegetables and pickled turnip for garnish. Arash brought more bread and more of the garlic spread he noticed Jan hit heavily.
"But this isn't right," Kurt protested. "They brought me a much bigger soup and now I have a double portion of meat to yours."
Jan waved it away with a dismissive gesture. "That's what I told him to do when he was walking away earlier," He'd also told him to serve them slowly, so he had more time to
"You see? That's the sort of thing I was hoping to hear first hand, how tight the censorship is working there. I have some sources I can ask, but it's always better to hear it yourself and have multiple sources. Would you mind if we order so it can be on the way while we talk?" Jan asked.
"No, please do. I'm not a picky eater, you can just order for me," Kurt volunteered.
"I always get whatever the special is," Jan said. "It has never disappointed and they don't repeat too often." Jan lifted a finger briefly and their waiter materialized at his elbow. Kurt was impressed. He usually had to crane his neck and wave to get a waiter to acknowledge his existence.
"Arash, my associate and I would like the special, and some extra of the garlic spread."
"It is kibbeh labanieh today, Mr. Hagen. I had it myself just a bit ago. Very good!" he promised.
Jan called a few words to his back before he'd gone far in that other language Arash had used at the door. Arash just waved an acknowledgement over his shoulder.
"What is that? Arabic?" Kurt asked.
"Farsi. Arash is Persian," Jan informed him.
"Does that mean Iranian?"
"That most specifically means not Iranian, as far as Arash is concerned. Best to humor him on that," Jan suggested. "He'll be polite to customers, but he may tell you in some detail why he isn't Iranian. Of course you wouldn't understand most of the curses, so it would be far less dramatic."
"Got you. I won't go there," Kurt agreed.
"So tell me," Jan asked. "How is it you decided to return to Earth, and then made what I have to assume was a very large effort to return?"
Kurt poured out his tale, starting with his sister, and how bored he'd gotten with the lack of fun things to do on Home. How he missed the open sky and fresh seafood, the Southern Steak House on George Street and the ma and pa hamburger place in his old neighborhood that then disappointed him by being closed. The clubs where you could waste a night wonderfully with friends listening to live music.
Jan nodded thoughtfully, raised an occasional eyebrow, looked skeptical on occasion and hardly said a word himself until Kurt was recounting his job search and the benevolent old cop who had been exceedingly honest with him. He had no idea he was in the hands of a master interrogator. By the time the entree came he'd told Jan things he wasn't even aware he'd known.
They had been served a tiny tabbouleh salad, which Arash informed them was all lunar sourced. It seemed normal, except instead of seeded and diced tomatoes it was tiny grape tomatoes each cut in eight pieces. There were fresh puffed loaves of pita bread so hot and full of steam they couldn't handle them at first. They were served a crushed lentil soup that was so good Kurt had to talk less and savor it. It was obviously made with stock not water, thick and full of cumin and pepper and something else Kurt couldn't identify. Arash apologized that they had no fresh lemons, but offered a bottle of lemon juice concentrate in a vinegar bottle. Kurt noticed Jan only got a cup and he was served a bigger bowl.
The main dish was a hot thick yogurt sauce with generous footballs of kibbeh half submerged in it, served in a large shallow soup plate. They shared a dish of Syrian rice with almond slivers and a few small bites of vegetables and pickled turnip for garnish. Arash brought more bread and more of the garlic spread he noticed Jan hit heavily.
"But this isn't right," Kurt protested. "They brought me a much bigger soup and now I have a double portion of meat to yours."
Jan waved it away with a dismissive gesture. "That's what I told him to do when he was walking away earlier," He'd also told him to serve them slowly, so he had more time to
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