I'll buy you a drink, or we can get an ice cream or something.
Just a minute, she replied, and then continued a moment later. There's a great chocolate bar at 11th and Massachusetts. Can you meet us there?
A chocolate bar is a place? I thought it was a kind of candy.
It's both. It's a bar, you know, like ... a bar, but they serve chocolate in just about every way you can imagine. As long as you don't make me eat a sausage for breakfast, I can budget the calories.
Jeremy grinned. Hanna wasn't close to having a weight problem.
I'll meet you there in ten minutes, but I've got one or two things to do, so do you mind if I turn off the chat mode?
No. See you soon. Chat mode discarded by remote host.
* * *
Looking at the evening sky brought Jeremy a sense of calm. The fading light promised to hide him in a blanket of darkness. Childhood ghosts grew more fearsome at night, but he had a feeling that the ghosts that had been following him needed the light to see. He might not have believed that if he had thought it through, but he wasn't thinking now, he was just walking and allowing his mind to wander in nothingness as his body enjoyed the cool breezes of a Spring evening.
He pulled his thoughts back to the present when he turned the corner onto Massachusetts Avenue and saw a row of retail establishments. They were all one- and two-story enterprises that comprised the bottom floors of the traditional 13-floor, D.C. office building. A series of old-fashioned wooden signs hung from the eaves. The one he wanted stood out by its plainness. Amidst oranges and purples and bright greens, the sign for the chocolate bar was chocolate brown, and bore in white letters the name of the place. It was, literally, The Chocolate Bar.
The restaurant was divided into a self-service facility for carry-out and an eat-in area with waiters. Everything sparkled clean and bright, reminding him of pictures he had seen of old-fashioned soda fountains. The tiled floor, the metal hand railings, the white tables and red chairs all gleamed to a polished perfection. A quick scan uncovered no robots, but it had to be their work. Jeremy couldn't imagine that human hands could make a place look so immaculate.
"Hi Jeremy," Hanna called from a table near the center of the eating area. She and MacKenzie rose to greet him, although MacKenzie timidly hung back a little, somewhat unlike her manner in class, or at lunch.
Does she think she's on Hanna's turf?
Jeremy greeted them both warmly and took a seat on a three-legged stool.
"So what's good?" he asked, speaking to the ceiling as he called up the bar's hole address and accessed the menu.
When all the orders were placed they fell into an easy chit-chat. Jeremy felt suddenly light-hearted. The cheery surroundings, the company -- they recalled his school days. His dad always told him it was important to be a fun date, and he began to realize how much he craved simple, friendly time with people about his own age.
The orders arrived remarkably quickly and they started right in. Hanna ordered a chocolate fudge cake, MacKenzie a thick bar of slightly warmed dark chocolate, which she ate with a fork, and Jeremy tried out the thick malted milkshake, complete with a motor-driven straw. After the novelty of the straw wore off, he began to notice the flavor of the shake. It was the best thing he'd tasted in his life.
Hanna and MacKenzie both offered him a bite of their desserts, but although sharing a dish with one woman might be romantic, just swapping food around the table didn't appeal to him.
"So what's on your mind, Jeremy?" Hanna asked as a bus boy took their empty dishes and a waiter poured steaming coffee into gleaming white, porcelain cups.
Jeremy looked down at the table to gather his thoughts. His suddenly serious expression took Hanna and MacKenzie by surprise. "Actually," he said, "I have some important things to ask you both about, but first I
Just a minute, she replied, and then continued a moment later. There's a great chocolate bar at 11th and Massachusetts. Can you meet us there?
A chocolate bar is a place? I thought it was a kind of candy.
It's both. It's a bar, you know, like ... a bar, but they serve chocolate in just about every way you can imagine. As long as you don't make me eat a sausage for breakfast, I can budget the calories.
Jeremy grinned. Hanna wasn't close to having a weight problem.
I'll meet you there in ten minutes, but I've got one or two things to do, so do you mind if I turn off the chat mode?
No. See you soon. Chat mode discarded by remote host.
* * *
Looking at the evening sky brought Jeremy a sense of calm. The fading light promised to hide him in a blanket of darkness. Childhood ghosts grew more fearsome at night, but he had a feeling that the ghosts that had been following him needed the light to see. He might not have believed that if he had thought it through, but he wasn't thinking now, he was just walking and allowing his mind to wander in nothingness as his body enjoyed the cool breezes of a Spring evening.
He pulled his thoughts back to the present when he turned the corner onto Massachusetts Avenue and saw a row of retail establishments. They were all one- and two-story enterprises that comprised the bottom floors of the traditional 13-floor, D.C. office building. A series of old-fashioned wooden signs hung from the eaves. The one he wanted stood out by its plainness. Amidst oranges and purples and bright greens, the sign for the chocolate bar was chocolate brown, and bore in white letters the name of the place. It was, literally, The Chocolate Bar.
The restaurant was divided into a self-service facility for carry-out and an eat-in area with waiters. Everything sparkled clean and bright, reminding him of pictures he had seen of old-fashioned soda fountains. The tiled floor, the metal hand railings, the white tables and red chairs all gleamed to a polished perfection. A quick scan uncovered no robots, but it had to be their work. Jeremy couldn't imagine that human hands could make a place look so immaculate.
"Hi Jeremy," Hanna called from a table near the center of the eating area. She and MacKenzie rose to greet him, although MacKenzie timidly hung back a little, somewhat unlike her manner in class, or at lunch.
Does she think she's on Hanna's turf?
Jeremy greeted them both warmly and took a seat on a three-legged stool.
"So what's good?" he asked, speaking to the ceiling as he called up the bar's hole address and accessed the menu.
When all the orders were placed they fell into an easy chit-chat. Jeremy felt suddenly light-hearted. The cheery surroundings, the company -- they recalled his school days. His dad always told him it was important to be a fun date, and he began to realize how much he craved simple, friendly time with people about his own age.
The orders arrived remarkably quickly and they started right in. Hanna ordered a chocolate fudge cake, MacKenzie a thick bar of slightly warmed dark chocolate, which she ate with a fork, and Jeremy tried out the thick malted milkshake, complete with a motor-driven straw. After the novelty of the straw wore off, he began to notice the flavor of the shake. It was the best thing he'd tasted in his life.
Hanna and MacKenzie both offered him a bite of their desserts, but although sharing a dish with one woman might be romantic, just swapping food around the table didn't appeal to him.
"So what's on your mind, Jeremy?" Hanna asked as a bus boy took their empty dishes and a waiter poured steaming coffee into gleaming white, porcelain cups.
Jeremy looked down at the table to gather his thoughts. His suddenly serious expression took Hanna and MacKenzie by surprise. "Actually," he said, "I have some important things to ask you both about, but first I
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