Lunch time, Intas 8, 2720
The Cafeteria
The Cafeteria
Orthosophos cheerfully told Madeleine about his father, who was an engineer – or an inventor? Madeleine wasn’t exactly sure, listening, and nor, she realized, was she really sure what the difference was. There were a lot of people in her static conversation classes who liked machinery and that sort of stuff, but she didn’t, really; actually Madeleine found all the oil and stuff kind of gross, and she couldn’t really imagine wanting to touch it.
But Orthosophos seemed to think it was interesting, anyway. “A steam-powered automatic comb?” Madeleine asked, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. She reached up to touch her hair, a little worried, trying to imagine an automatic comb running repeatedly through it. It sounded really awful; she thought it would probably hurt if it found a snarl or pulled too hard or anything like that.
Or was a comb some sort of machine? That is, not the sort of one used for combing hair, but some other sort of – comb? Madeleine couldn’t really imagine, anyway, why a hair comb would be on rolling spikes.
It would, she thought a little longingly, make it easier not to have to brush one’s hair so many times every night. Madeleine tried very hard to remember to brush her hair enough strokes every night, but it didn’t really seem to help. She felt rather strongly than an automatic brush would be better than an automatic comb, that is, if they were talking about automatic hair machines.
“Oh,” Madeleine said, when Theodore said his mother was a banker. She shifted a little, looking down at her plate. He’d practically finished his food, Madeleine realized, and she still had most of her tart left. She picked up her fork again, and prodded at it.
“Um,” Madeleine said, in answer to his question. Of course, there were lots of Incumbents and lots of Incumbents’ kids at Brunnhold. Sometimes, people were strange about it; sometimes they were nicer to her than they’d been before, and she thought that was all right, because at least they weren’t mean. Sometimes, though, people laughed or said – other mean things, which she didn’t like. His mother might know her mother, Madeleine thought, but she found she didn't want to know if they did.
“They’re in government,” Madeleine said, and shrugged. Shrugging wasn’t a proper ladylike thing to do, and she felt dreadful about it immediately, as if Orthosophos would immediately know she was trying to change the subject. Hastily, Madeleine stabbed her fork into the tart, looking at the other student.
“What other inventions has your dad made?” Madeleine asked. She thought of a better question then and went on, steadily, into it, even though they didn’t make very much sense together. “Do you want to be an engineer too?” She took a forkful of the tart and put it in her mouth immediately; nobody, she felt sure, would ask her questions while she was eating, and then she’d be all right.
But Orthosophos seemed to think it was interesting, anyway. “A steam-powered automatic comb?” Madeleine asked, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. She reached up to touch her hair, a little worried, trying to imagine an automatic comb running repeatedly through it. It sounded really awful; she thought it would probably hurt if it found a snarl or pulled too hard or anything like that.
Or was a comb some sort of machine? That is, not the sort of one used for combing hair, but some other sort of – comb? Madeleine couldn’t really imagine, anyway, why a hair comb would be on rolling spikes.
It would, she thought a little longingly, make it easier not to have to brush one’s hair so many times every night. Madeleine tried very hard to remember to brush her hair enough strokes every night, but it didn’t really seem to help. She felt rather strongly than an automatic brush would be better than an automatic comb, that is, if they were talking about automatic hair machines.
“Oh,” Madeleine said, when Theodore said his mother was a banker. She shifted a little, looking down at her plate. He’d practically finished his food, Madeleine realized, and she still had most of her tart left. She picked up her fork again, and prodded at it.
“Um,” Madeleine said, in answer to his question. Of course, there were lots of Incumbents and lots of Incumbents’ kids at Brunnhold. Sometimes, people were strange about it; sometimes they were nicer to her than they’d been before, and she thought that was all right, because at least they weren’t mean. Sometimes, though, people laughed or said – other mean things, which she didn’t like. His mother might know her mother, Madeleine thought, but she found she didn't want to know if they did.
“They’re in government,” Madeleine said, and shrugged. Shrugging wasn’t a proper ladylike thing to do, and she felt dreadful about it immediately, as if Orthosophos would immediately know she was trying to change the subject. Hastily, Madeleine stabbed her fork into the tart, looking at the other student.
“What other inventions has your dad made?” Madeleine asked. She thought of a better question then and went on, steadily, into it, even though they didn’t make very much sense together. “Do you want to be an engineer too?” She took a forkful of the tart and put it in her mouth immediately; nobody, she felt sure, would ask her questions while she was eating, and then she’d be all right.
