simon_doctor | (no subject)

(no subject)

The weather's good this morning; the air's chilly but the sun's bright and warm, and the sky is a clear translucent blue with no hint of rain.

The major marketplace of Logan City is spread out ahead of them, a thousand bright colors and a cacophony of voices, swarming and busy and alive. It doesn't feel like starting over, because you can't start over, but it's good enough for now. And they have things to accomplish.

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Kaylee glances down at the hat in the bag, a little wistfully, but waits without saying anything.

Everything at this stall, unusually, is at a fixed price. This is possibly what motivates Simon to lean in and murmur a few words to the proprietor in an earnest undertone, gesturing at the book in his hand.

The old man smiles, shrugs, shakes his head.

Simon doesn't argue any further, but he does buy a woven plastic-lanyard bookmark he doesn't need, along with the book.

Kaylee watches the exchange with a minor amount of curiosity. When Simon's done and they're heading down the thoroughfare, she says, "Well?"

"Here," he says, and holds out the book for her to see. "Rama Ascendant. It was written during the major period of expansion about fifty years before Unification, and it was banned almost everywhere as subversive. Nobody's ever been able to find out the author's real name."

Kaylee blinks, and flips through it as they walk. "So it's rare?"

"Well, in a sense. Digital copies are easy to find on the Cortex, and it's public domain. Printed copies are rare, especially copies that date back that far, which this one seems to."

Kaylee's starting to smile faintly. She looks up at Simon, sidelong. "So this means you did real good."

Simon grins back at her. "The best part, though? It's satire. Very, very pointed sociopolitical satire. Jordie loves this kind of thing, and especially this period."

He reaches to take the book back. "Did you know he almost went into political science instead of medicine, the year we met?"

"...I don't think I'm too surprised by that." She shakes her head a little. "Well. Good. How hard's it gonna be to send this to him?"

"Probably not very," he says. "They don't really enforce the ban anymore, but ... I might put a false cover on it, just to be on the safe side."

A beat.

"Also because he'll think it's funnier, if I do that."

"Make it about monkeys," she says, laughing.

"Yes." He's starting to laugh too. "...But not cyborg monkeys."

"Why, because you can't draw one?"

"No," he says, "because a book about cyborg monkeys would be too memorable. Not clandestine enough."

"Maybe you could draw one on the inside."

Kaylee is very solemn.

"He'd like that."

"Maybe." He's chuckling. "A little one, next to the inscription."

From somewhere very nearby, there's an enticing smell of baked goods.

Kaylee's stomach growls.

She looks down in surprise, and then looks sheepish.

"...you ready for breakfast?"

"Definitely," he agrees, raising his head to look for the source of the scent.

It's not far off: a very large permanent stall with an open-air oven behind it, manned by a middle-aged woman and four teenagers.

She gets a furtive look. "Cinnamon rolls?"

"I don't see why not," he says agreeably. "...though it smells like they have something with blackberries. I might get that instead."

"I'll share if you share...?"

He grins at her. "You have a deal."

Even with four people working the counter, there's something of a wait.

But it's worth it for a cinnamon roll as big as your face. Kaylee doesn't have it in her to look ashamed.

Or for blackberry scones, split and spread with butter. Warm enough that the butter's starting to melt before they've even paid for their breakfast; Simon gets an extra few napkins in case of dripping.

"Should we find a place to sit?" he asks Kaylee as they make their way back out of the slightly denser crowd.

Kaylee has to carry her cinnamon roll with both hands. It is very, very large.

"Unless you want me to bury my face in this thing." Wry. "Which, attractive as the notion is, I don't want to do in public so much."