Page 38 of The Genius
Tristan’s Headache
Shelly
“You didn’t eat much.” Tristan nodded to the plate I’d pushed aside.
“That’s because nothing tastes good here.”
“The chicken pie is tasty.” Tristan snatched at my plate and popped a piece of broccoli in his mouth.
“Yeah, they know how to cook meat. It’s the greens and salads they mess up. Fried rice with vegetables shouldn’t be that hard. Even I can do it and that says a lot, because I’m no culinary expert.”
“True, my taste buds are still recovering from that awful cake you made.”
“I didn’t swap salt and sugar on purpose. Sometimes, I just get distracted.”
“Which is why I’m happy you’re not working in a lab with chemicals,” Tristan pointed out with humor sparkling in his eyes. We were in one of his favorite places. To me the pub looked like a pre-war museum with all the wood panels on the walls and the benches and tables made of solid planks. A large sign above the bar said McGregor’s Irish Pub and topless bar-bots were pouring out large-size beer glasses to the many patrons in the bar.
“Since you’re not eating anyway, do you mind if we look at the plans?” Tristan made room in the middle of the table for a large paper with drawings on it.
I felt the paper. “Is this real paper made from trees?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you have it in an electronic format?”
“It’s just a draft. Why, what’s wrong?”
“Sometimes it’s like you’ve never lived in the Motherlands at all. You know that traditional paper hasn’t been used for centuries. In fact, the amount of wood in this place would be offensive to most.”
“I know, but I like it. It’s cozy and this is the Northlands – we’ve got nothing but trees.”
“Trees are living beings, Tristan. They communicate with other trees and if one is injured by lightning or under attack from insects the others will distribute water via their root net. As a Motlander you are raised to appreciate all living beings and acknowledge that their lives are meaningful and important too.”
“Sure.” Tristan leaned over the table. “But sometimes I’m a rebel and I use paper anyway. We did at the school, remember?”
“Yeah. But there are alternatives.”
“Shelly, you never complained about it at the school, so don’t get hung up on it now.”
I shrugged. “Okay, I’m not exactly the typical Motlander, am I?”
“Good. So now that you got your little rant out of your system, can we focus on my promotion?”
Placing my forearms on the table I leaned in to look at the drawings. “Walk me through it.”
Tristan was working on a public transportation system with the scope of supporting both the Northlands and part of the Motherlands. He didn’t find it as glamorous as designing racing drones, but he was passionate about how many people the system would benefit.
“Pearl specified that speed and comfort are on the wish list but are secondary compared to durability and reliability,” he explained.
“What will it run on?”
“Algae biofuel or electricity. I’m not sure. Pearl probably has an opinion on that.”
“I thought you were the designer.”
Tristan tapped his fingers on the table. “True, but as the ruler’s wife, Pearl has a big say in everything. Besides, I value her input. She takes time to understand things, and she listens to others.”
“She’ll tell you to find a way to make the drones self-sufficient. You’re using carbon fiber, right?”
