He tapped back: ?I love it when you compare people to food.?
?Practicing for the inevitable.?
Shaun snorted laughter, nearly dropping his phone into the basket of breadsticks. Dad shot him a sharp look, and he put his phone down next to his silverware, saying angelically, ?I was checking my ratings.?
Dad?s scowl melted instantly. ?How?s it looking??
?Not bad. The footage the Buffster managed to clean before we hauled her away from her computer is getting a really good download rate.? Shaun flashed a grin at Buffy, who preened. If you want her to like you, compliment her poetry. If you want her to love you, compliment her tech. ?I figure once I do the parallel reports and record my commentary, my share?s going to jump another eight points. I may break my own top stats this month.?
?Show-off,? I said, and smacked him on the arm with my fork.
?Slacker,? he replied, still grinning.
?Children,? said Mom, but there was no heat behind it. She loved it when we goofed around. It made us look more like a real family.
?I?m going to have the teriyaki soy burger,? said Buffy. She leaned forward and said conspiratorially, ?I heard from a guy who knows a girl whose boyfriend?s best friend is in biotech that he?the best friend, I mean?ate some beef that was cloned in a clean room and didn?t have a viral colony, and it tasted just like teriyaki soy.?
?Would that it were true,? said Dad, with the weird sort of mournfulness reserved for people who grew up before the Rising and were now confronted with something that?s been lost forever. Like red meat.
That?s another nasty side effect of the KA infection that no one thought about until they were forced to deal with it firsthand: Everything mammalian harbors a virus colony, and the death of the organism causes the virus to transmute into its live state. Hot dogs, hamburgers, steaks, and pork chops are things of the past. Eat them, and you?re eating live viral particles. Are you sure there aren?t any sores in your mouth? In your esophagus? Can you be one hundred percent certain that no part of your digestive tract has been compromised in any way? All it takes is the smallest break in the body?s defenses and your slumbering infection wakes up. Cooking the meat enough to kill the infection also kills the flavor, and it?s still a form of Russian roulette.
The most well-done steak in the world may have one tiny speck of rare meat somewhere inside it, and that?s all that it takes. My brother wrestles with the infected, gives speeches while standing on cars in designated disaster zones, never wears sufficient armor, and generally goes through life giving the impression that he?s a suicide waiting to happen. Even he won?t eat red meat.
Poultry and fish are safe, but a lot of people avoid them anyway. Something about the act of eating flesh makes them uncomfortable. Maybe it?s the fact that suddenly, after centuries of ruling the farmyard, mankind has reason to empathize with the chicken. We always had turkeys at Thanksgiving and geese at Christmas. Just another ratings stunt on the part of our increasingly media-savvy parents, but at least this one had some useful side effects. Shaun and I are some of the only people I know in our generation who don?t have any unreasonable dietary hang-ups.
?I?m going to have the chicken salad and a cup of today?s soup,? I said.
?And a Coke,? prompted Shaun.
?And a carafe,? I corrected him.
He was still teasing me about my caffeine intake when the waiter appeared, accompanied by the beaming manager. No surprise there. As a family, we?ve been excellent customers for as long as I can remember. Every time a local outbreak has closed down outside gathering areas, Mom?s been at Bronson?s, eating in the enclosed dining area and making a point of being the first one outside when they?re allowed to reopen it. They?d be stupid not to appreciate what we?ve done for their business.
The waiter was carrying a tray laden with our usual assortment of drinks: coffee for Mom and Dad, a virgin daiquiri for Buffy, a bottle of sparkling apple cider for Shaun?it looks like beer from any sort of a distance?and a pitcher of Coke for me.
?Compliments of the house,? the manager declared, turning his smile on me and Shaun. ?We?re so proud of you. Going off to be media superstars! It runs in the family.?
?It definitely does,? simpered Mom, doing her best to look like a giggling schoolgirl. She was only succeeding at looking like an idiot, but I wasn?t going to tell her that. We were almost on the campaign trail. It wasn?t worth the fight.
?Be sure to sign a menu before you leave?? the manager pressed. ?We?ll put it on the wall. When you?re too big to come to places like this, we?ll be able to say, ?They ate here, they ate fries right there, right at that table, while they did their math homework.? ?
?It was physics,? protested Shaun, laughing.
?Whatever you say,? said the manager.