Page 51 of Thawed Gladiator Thrax

We pause halfway up to catch our breath. The view of the city stretches out around us, a hive of activity. In the distance, I can make out the dome of a massive building.

“What’s that?” I ask, pointing.

Skye consults her phone again. “That’s St. Peter’s Basilica. It’s in Vatican City—the heart of the Catholic Church.”

I nod, remembering our discussions about the rise of Christianity. It’s still hard to fathom how much the world changed while I slept. The old gods are no longer worshiped. Except, perhaps, Fortuna. She still holds a special place in my heart. This new Christian god must be mighty indeed to have defeated Jupiter and his brothers in battle.

We continue our climb, reaching the top slightly winded but excited. The church at the summit is beautiful, its face covered with detailed carvings and statues.

After descending the steps, Skye leads me to a narrow street lined with small shops. “Let’s explore.” She’s off before I have a chance to answer. I hurry behind her, wondering what caught her eye.

We enter a shop filled with strange objects. Skye calls it an antique store. My eyes widen as I take in the variety of items.

“Look at this,” I say, picking up a black disc. “What an odd plate. Is the hole in the middle to let unwanted juices leak out?”

Skye laughs softly. “That’s a vinyl record. It’s for playing music.” She excitedly pulls me over to an odd machine and puts the plate onto a spindle. “See? It goes around and the needle…” she lifts anarm on the machine and points to the shortest needle I’ve ever seen, “somehow makes music.”

When I ask how it works, she shrugs. “I know how to use this and the computer and the phone, but it’s another thing entirely to understand their mysterious workings.”

I love how Skye answers all my questions, while never making me feel stupid. Why couldn’t people have been as patient with me when I was an eight-year-old straight off the farm? Perhaps I wouldn’t have felt so stupid if someone had spent even a few moments explaining things to me.

I look around at other things that seem so modern to me yet are considered old in this time. I can’t imagine the purpose even half of them serve.

Next, we enter a clothing store. The fabrics and styles are unlike anything from my time. Skye encourages me to try on different outfits, her eyes lighting up at certain combinations.

“This one,” she says, holding up a soft white buttoned shirt and dark pants. “You’ll look amazing in this.”

After I put them on, the way she looks at me makes my heart race and my phallus twitch. Without hesitation, I buy the outfit, planning to wear it to dinner tonight.

As we leave the shop, Skye spots something that makes her squeal with delight. “Oh, Thrax! We have to try this!”

She’s pointing at two small, aqua-colored vehicles with two wheels. “Vespas,” she explains. “Want to give it a go?”

My stomach cramps as I imagine weaving in and out of the crazy traffic that seems to have no pattern, all while unprotected on that little machine. Instead of letting her know I’m scared, I protest, saying, “I’ve never driven anything before.”

“It’s okay,” she assures me. “I’ll teach you.”

After a brief lesson, we put on protective helmets and set off. The first moments are terrifying—the ground seems to movebeneath me, and the other vehicles on the road appear far too close.

Skye slams on the brake and we halt in front of an angry-looking truck carrying vegetables. The driver leans out and begins rapidly shouting at us in his language. I’m about to get off and apologize to him when Skye shouts a handful of words that she was practicing this morning with the help of her phone.

“Dov’è il bagno!”Where is the toilet?

She apologetically waves her hands as she desperately tries to get the bike back in gear.

I’m laughing so hard I barely see the man’s confused expression as we zip away and turn onto back streets that don’t have much traffic. As the wind blows in our faces, and Skye’s laughter rings in my ears, I feel a surge of excitement.

All too soon, our ride comes to an end. As I dismount on shaky legs, I can’t help but laugh. “That was… incredible,” I admit.

Skye beams at me. “See? You’re adapting to the modern world just fine.” Her pride in me makes me want to try more new things, just so I can prove I’m worthy of her affection.

We spend the rest of the morning exploring piazzas and narrow streets and stopping for gelato, which is the Italian version of ice cream like I had back at the hospital.

Lunch is at a small cafe where Skye introduces me to pizza. The explosion of flavors is better than just about anything I’ve ever tasted. The only thing that would make it better is garum, but I’ve been in modern times long enough to know not to ask for it. I understand it’s hard to obtain, even in Rome.

As we finish our meal, I reach into my pocket and insist on paying with the paper money Varro gave me. When I receive coins in change, I enjoy feeling their weight in my pocket even though the profiles on these coins aren’t familiar to me.

Back outside, I say, “Perhaps not all of your changes are good.” To punctuate my comment, I take a deep sniffat the funny smell all the vehicles produce. “But one thing is certain, food in the twenty-first century is certainly better than anything I ate in my old life.”

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