Descending Road - SULIMAR by Dana W. Paxson

SULIMAR

1560 4D

“Why do we have to make such a big batch?” I started flipping tubers on the grill again. The sweat ran down my face, and I cursed Yingnour for about the twenty-fifth time for finding me this job. It was a street vendor’s place, one of Zillbang‘s extension spots up near Aswar Nagrasai, and I hated it from the minute I saw the woman running it and she saw me. Her name was Galrana.

“So you’ll get paid,” she told me, in that snarl of hers that sounded sweet from a few feet further away. A voice designed for nasty. “You give the ArCorp bunch a batch of tuber that’s too small, and they’ll be looking the other way when the streetrats roll through here. Then you’ll wish you’d cooked up twice as much. Idiot.” She smiled at a couple munching her tubers and greenburg, made fast and proper by me, TeeTee the Teller of Tales, EffEff the Flipper of Food. Eff her twice.

I decided after she called me idiot for the seventieth time that I’d leave there as soon as I had enough coin to feed myself for a few days in the City. I didn’t care if ArCorp‘s goon cops ever messed with Galrana, I’d be gone.

“Four more orders, two greens, pep both, sanga one,” she called back to me. Hmm, pepper on them – skinners for andros like that. I splatted the orders and the greenburgers and peered out through the steam cloud to the bay where the tables were. A mongo andro woman and a street guy held hands, eyelocked. Two tables between them and the ArCorp bunch. Okay, rep-peppers down, and where was the sanga spice? Another damn trip to the backburrow for that.

“Getting more sanga,” I called to Galrana, and slipped into the narrow corridor behind the stove. Sweat ran down me. When I got home, I’d have to wash and wash before Ti’Ann would even look at me.

Galrana was yelling when I got back out with a load of sanga. “Come on, come on! Five more orders and six greens, bare. Where’s the ArCorp order? You burn it?”

I threw some sanga on the andro order, shoveled the ArCorp order over, and got it all dished: six big platters loaded up, with the usual touches of salt herbs some of them liked, and a pickled kwakiat splayed like a flower on each one. Galrana grabbed it all and hustled it out to the big table where the corpos waited, their brewtanks in hand.

I nursed the andro order along a bit, and she came racing back by the grill like she was about to throw me on it to fry. And then she threw both arms around me and kissed me all sweaty and hot and delicious, and I dropped my shovel, and she said, “You’re great – they loved it!” She hugged me for emphasis, her breasts firm and full against me, and I started to fumble for another shovel for the tubers to turn them, my brain buzzing with shock, and she grabbed my hand.

“No, listen, you’re the best we’ve had since ZB opened this place. Those little flower toppers! You sweet idiot!” Her eyes were big and on me. Usually they were squinty and mean. I’d never noticed how good she looked. Voice still nasty.

“They taught me that over at Joovlies,” I said, “and I gotta turn these.”

She dug in her slipsuit and handed me two twenty pieces. “If you keep going this way, you’ll get more.”

She hurried back out to greet some more people, and my buzzer kept going. The andro order! I dug down in a freshbin and found some bonestalk to lay across the greens. They’d like that.

The ArCorpers rouched their way through the tuber, laughing and drinking in between big bites. One of them kept looking over at the big andro woman laughing with her guy. Galrana bounced from table to table and I watched her hair fly and her body swivel every second when I didn’t have to watch the grill. Idiot me. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad.

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	SULIMAR 1560 4D “Why do we have to make such a big batch?” I started flipping tubers on the grill again. The sweat ran down my face, and I cursed Yingnour for about the twenty-fifth time for finding me this job. It was a street vendor’s place, one of Zillbang‘s extension spots up near Aswar Nagrasai, and I hated it from the minute I saw the woman running it and she saw me. Her name was Galrana. “So you’ll get paid,” she told me, in that snarl of hers that sounded sweet from a few feet further away. A voice designed for nasty. “You give the ArCorp bunch a batch of tuber that’s too small, and they’ll be looking the other way when the streetrats roll through here. Then you’ll wish you’d cooked up twice as much. Idiot.” She smiled at a couple munching her tubers and greenburg, made fast and proper by me, TeeTee the Teller of Tales, EffEff the Flipper of Food. Eff her twice. I decided after she called me idiot for the seventieth time that I’d leave there as soon as I had enough coin to feed myself for a few days in the City. I didn’t care if ArCorp‘s goon cops ever messed with Galrana, I’d be gone. “Four more orders, two greens, pep both, sanga one,” she called back to me. Hmm, pepper on them – skinners for andros like that. I splatted the orders and the greenburgers and peered out through the steam cloud to the bay where the tables were. A mongo andro woman and a street guy held hands, eyelocked. Two tables between them and the ArCorp bunch. Okay, rep-peppers down, and where was the sanga spice? Another damn trip to the backburrow for that. “Getting more sanga,” I called to Galrana, and slipped into the narrow corridor behind the stove. Sweat ran down me. When I got home, I’d have to wash and wash before Ti’Ann would even look at me. Galrana was yelling when I got back out with a load of sanga. “Come on, come on! Five more orders and six greens, bare. Where’s the ArCorp order? You burn it?” I threw some sanga on the andro order, shoveled the ArCorp order over, and got it all dished: six big platters loaded up, with the usual touches of salt herbs some of them liked, and a pickled kwakiat splayed like a flower on each one. Galrana grabbed it all and hustled it out to the big table where the corpos waited, their brewtanks in hand. I nursed the andro order along a bit, and she came racing back by the grill like she was about to throw me on it to fry. And then she threw both arms around me and kissed me all sweaty and hot and delicious, and I dropped my shovel, and she said, “You’re great – they loved it!” She hugged me for emphasis, her breasts firm and full against me, and I started to fumble for another shovel for the tubers to turn them, my brain buzzing with shock, and she grabbed my hand. “No, listen, you’re the best we’ve had since ZB opened this place. Those little flower toppers! You sweet idiot!” Her eyes were big and on me. Usually they were squinty and mean. I’d never noticed how good she looked. Voice still nasty. “They taught me that over at Joovlies,” I said, “and I gotta turn these.” She dug in her slipsuit and handed me two twenty pieces. “If you keep going this way, you’ll get more.” She hurried back out to greet some more people, and my buzzer kept going. The andro order! I dug down in a freshbin and found some bonestalk to lay across the greens. They’d like that. The ArCorpers rouched their way through the tuber, laughing and drinking in between big bites. One of them kept looking over at the big andro woman laughing with her guy. Galrana bounced from table to table and I watched her hair fly and her body swivel every second when I didn’t have to watch the grill. Idiot me. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad.