Christmas Eve at Luiz’s Old-Fashioned Café

by

Joseph Morris

Old Town, New Arantes City, Jandira, Kuat Star System

24 December 423 SF Since Jandira's Foundingj

Old-Earth Christmas background music combined with the comforting fragrances of garlic and oregano to greet customers entering Luiz’s Old-Fashioned Café. A holo of a red sleigh pulled by nine reindeer hovered over the dance floor. Every few minutes, the sleigh’s sole passenger changed from the North American Santa, in his traditional heavyweight red suit, to the New Brazilian Papai Noel wearing a lightweight red silk outfit. A live evergreen-like Christmas tree decorated with shiny baubles and red and white striped peppermint candy canes graced the right corner of the broad entrance area. Brightly wrapped presents for a planned after-closing staff Christmas party lay piled at its base. To the left, a long Earth-mahogany bar with four live human bartenders catered to a crowd that came for conversation, drinks, and some of the best food in New Arantes City. Live human servers were part of the Café’s lure.

Anabel Alencar-Smith sat at a small table off to one side of the main room with her soon-to-be-husband, Lucas Andrade-Oliveira. She lifted her wine glass to her lips to mask her scrutiny of her future husband. To an outsider, the two looked pretty much like a typical couple. Some might consider Lucas a little old for her but that wasn’t uncommon in the twenty-eighth century. With lifespans extending into the third decade past one hundred, a difference of fifteen or twenty years was not considered an issue. Furthermore, Lucas didn’t have a reputation as a dabbler of women, no less, younger ones. More importantly though, few would dare risk the wrath of the Patriarch of the Oliveira Family, probably the most powerful crime family in Portown, by whispering unsavory rumors about him.

Anabel shrugged. In the long run, it didn’t really matter what these Humans thought of her or her relationship with Lucas. She was a Human-Pheryl Marge and eventually all these Humans would be serving her. After all, Humans were just foodstock. She recoiled at that thought. She was losing her humanity as the Merge progressed and there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

<Deal with it. You’re a Merge.> Messages like this from her Pheryl half were becoming rarer as the Merging continued. Pheryl and Human were becoming inseparable. Part of the unstoppable Merge process. She gulped down what was left in the glass. For a moment it seemed like swallowing the last of her humanity. 

She sighed and signaled to a live waiter for a refill. Tonight, she was playing the role of Lucas’s love and future wife. She wore what had been for centuries called that “little black dress.” Materials and style changed over time with various fashion fads but someone from the twentieth or twenty-first century would have recognized it. To keep up appearances, she had chosen a mixture of modesty and a flaunting of her feminine assets. The dress’s transparency nanos that could expose various parts of her body on command were not activated except where modesty was not betrayed. Bare shoulders exposing smooth, olive-ebony skin. A demure cleavage suggesting the size of her ample bosom without being blatant about it. A dress length emphasizing her long legs but not so short beyond what some considered as good taste. Nudity taboos were a mixed bag on Jandira. It seemed like the further you were from Portown, the greater the taboo. Undyed black hair and no contact-lens-enhanced dark eyes complemented her modest approach. This had to be an outfit befitting the future wife of a Family Patriarch. Maybe she exposed more than the recently deceased Matriarch Sylvana would have revealed, but then again, she had more assets to display. She hid a grimace from Lucas behind the refilled glass. Feeding off her Tia (aunt) Sylvana had been necessary but distasteful. Distasteful? That’s all the indignation she could muster? How far she was falling.

Her task on Jandira was to engineer the collapse of the Jandiran government, but her success largely depended on the continued maturation of her Pheryl. She had left New Berwick before she was ready due to the urgency of the High Priestess’ vision of the timelines. Fortunately, here on Jandira, the Family proved quite efficient in disposing of bodies, thereby allowing her a full feeding from which her victims didn’t survive. The feedings matured her Pheryl enough to soon allow her to insert a splinter into Lucas. A splinter: a small portion of her Pheryl transferred to Lucas’ brain to ensure complete, unwavering obedience with no chance of betrayal. The splinter allowed her to monitor all of his intimate thoughts and emotions and then easily project hers to become his. Inserting a splinter into Lucas was a bit of risk because it was difficult to mask its vinegary presence in his aura, even with the new mental stealth protocols developed by the High Priestess.  Still, it would take a deep taste to get to the Pheryl essence. That is, of course, if Humans could actually taste auras. And that was the crux of the issues with High Priestess’ visions: what these Jandiran Humans were actually capable of. 

Lucas dutifully smiled back at her with the look of an older man completely flattered by the attentions of a younger woman. Exactly as she wanted him to appear. She had used her Pheryl abilities to help Lucas shore up his position as the de facto head of the Family. Whereas, in the past, his critics would have had to be eliminated, her Pheryl mental abilities enabled her to change their opinion of him. Fewer bodies to be disposed of and less risk of police involvement. Even some of Lucas’ most fervent opponents now believed he was the one to lead the family. However, some were too intractable and had to be eliminated. One of those had served the dual purpose of another feeding for her. 

“Lucas! Nice to see you!” a gravelly voice called out.

A short, stocky man, accompanied by an older-looking portly woman, strolled to the table. Marcos Barros, Mayor of Old Town. Anabel relaxed. A Lucas ally.

“Good evening, Mayor. Natália,” Lucas said, rising to take the other man’s hand while sporting a warm, artificial smile. He bowed to the Mayor’s wife and kissed the back of her hand. “You’re looking exquisite tonight, my lady. Merry Christmas to both of you.”

Natália blushed. “Merry Christmas to you too, Senor Lucas.” She turned to Anabel. “And who is this?”

“May I present Anabel Alencar-Smith? A recent arrival from New Brazil who has captured my heart in a short time. We plan to marry in the spring.”

 “Your Honor,” she said in a put-on, uncertain voice, extending her hand to shake his. 

“Your Honor? Don’t be so serious? We’re all friends here, senhorita.” Marcos took her outstretched hand and kissed it.

“Recently arrived from New Brazil?” Natália asked.

Anabel pretended to shrink before the older woman’s frank gaze. “Yes, senhora,” Ana replied. “From Juiz de Fora on the southern continent. You wouldn’t have heard of it. A small farming village of less than a thousand, destroyed by a failure of a dyke during a hurricane.”

“And what brings you to Jandira?”

“A new start, my lady.”

“Why not go to one of the larger cities on New Brazil like New Brasilia? Why come to a new world?” Natália asked.

Anabel shrugged. “Like I said, I wanted a new beginning.” Short for “I had some trouble on New Brazil I wanted to get away from.”

Natália nodded understandingly and smiled a suitable artificial smile. “Well, my dear, if you ever need any help with introductions or to adjusting to life here, Lucas knows how to contact me.” 

Anabel tasted Natália’s aura. Duplicity. No real intent to help there. “Thank you, my lady.” 

“Oh, not my lady, my dear, Natália is fine.” She turned to her husband. “Let’s leave these two young people to enjoy each other. Besides, I’m hungry.”

Season’s greetings were exchanged again, and the older couple turned away. As they walked toward their table, Anabel probed them again. Nothing unusual about their auras. Meeting little resistance, she pushed inward. She tweaked Marcos’ attraction to her as a beautiful young woman to allow him to be influenced through simple flirting. A manipulation accomplished without the need for any real pressure. He would be willing to help her in the forlorn hope of bedding her. Deep down he knew he would never have the courage to take advantage even if he had the chance. The fantasies of an older man given a little push.

She moved on to the woman. Natália’s comment about helping Anabel had been political fluff. Anabel located the woman’s motherly instincts and pushed gently. Natália was now firmly imprinted with Anabel. Like her husband, simple influence not requiring distraction and much pressure. Natália would take Anabel under her wing and introduce her to Old Town society. Both of the Barros had been influenced just enough to eliminate any doubts about Lucas’ new consort. They now accepted her as who she said she was. A useful night, so far. Sometime later she would “recruit” them to worship the Goddess of Pherylahn.

A local congressman and his wife strolled over. Another ally. A couple at the restaurant entrance caught her attention. Jandiran Investigations Bureau (JIB) Special Agent Ruan Beça with a stunning-looking woman in her own fashionable version of a black dress clinging to his arm. Anabel scowled. She had been warned about him. She reached out to the woman and probed. His wife, Melinda. A JIB analyst! Were they here on business? A thin tendril wafted through the restaurant. Someone was tasting the crowd! Was that the jib? No sense taking a chance. Keeping hidden was the priority, even though finding out more about his abilities would be helpful. If it was him. She pulled up a protective mental block and activated a trigger. She was simply now Anabel Ella Alencar-Smith, an innocent immigrant from a small village completely overwhelmed by the attention of a man as powerful as Lucas and feeling desperately out of place in such a fine restaurant. She knew nothing of Pheryls. And hopefully the vinegary taste of a Pheryl was masked.

Old Town, New Arantes City, Jandira, Kuat Star System

24 December 423 SF

Ruan stepped through the heavy wooden restaurant door, holding it open for his wife. As he followed her in, he scanned the crowd with his Portal. A brief whiff of vinegar! A Merge? So brief. An actual taste? Or just his imagination. Damn! This was supposed to a quiet, romantic Christmas Eve with his wife at his favorite restaurant. Even though the Oliveira family sometimes seemed to hold court here, that was a fact of life in Old Town, with its proximity to Portown. Besides, he occasionally picked up a tidbit of intelligence while dining here.

Before he could scan again, Luiz spotted him and ambled over. “Senor Ruan, nice to have you back. Merry Christmas.” He turned and bowed to Mindi. “Senora, Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas to you, too, Luiz,” Mindi replied with a broad smile lighting up her face, her chestnut brown eyes warm at seeing the old restauranteur. “Give my love and best wishes for a Merry Christmas to Adelina and little Luiz Junior.”

Luiz’s face reflected Mindi’s warmth. “I will. Your table is ready.”

As they were led to a table off to the side, not far from the bar, Ruan reached out through his Portal again. No vinegar and no telltale indigo in the blue and yellow human auras. The table gave Ruan ample view of the restaurant’s patrons without putting him front and center. As soon as he was seated, he tasted again. The Pheryl essence was still gone. 

“Hon, what’s the matter?” Mindi whispered after they were seated. “You almost jumped out of your skin when you walked through the door.”

“A wisp of vinegar,” he replied to her question. 

He sighed as he regarded his wife. As a JIB special agent, it wasn’t surprising she noticed his reaction. There was nothing wrong with her security senses. She was also on the Pheryl Joint Task Force and aware of Pheryls and Portals. The two of them were adapting to his Portal and the ramifications to their relationship. She was slated to get one, but exactly when was uncertain. She was a trained interrogator and was looking forward to the help a Portal would be in verifying the veracity of a perp’s testimony. That was the one thing she was allowed to do with a Portal during an interrogation under Duke Kaiden’s Directive. A fine balancing act between constitutional rights and security. He reached out again, an allowed cursory taste of the surrounding auras. Nothing.

“Pheryl?” Mindi whispered, keeping her voice soft and unconcerned as if in a romantic exchange with her husband. “Here?” She kept her eyes locked on his.

 “Nothing now, but when we entered the restaurant. It was so brief I could have been mistaken. Damn, I hate this Portal stuff.”

“Why? We use it responsibly to protect this planet, and Humanity.” She grimaced at her rote recitation.

“The incongruities and inconsistencies. Two wrongs never make a right,” he muttered. Surreptitiously tasting someone’s thoughts and emotions even with a warrant didn’t seem right. Even if the enemy was doing it without restrictions.

“And one unanswered wrong definitely doesn’t make a right either,” she replied. “You can use your Portal to taste the crowd in this restaurant for a vinegary essence and check their auras for telltale indigo, but not go any further without a warrant. We do it by the rule of law. The Pheryl don’t. And we don’t use Portals to influence others’ thoughts.” 

Yeah. She’s right. There’s no other answer to the Pheryl threat except the Portals, a gift from a billion-year-old species. As for tonight, was that vinegary essence ever really there or had he imagined it? He visually scanned the room. There was Lucas Andrade-Oliveira, head of the Oliveira Family, but that wasn’t unusual. Alongside him was Anabel Alencar-Smith. He was aware of her, a new player who had appeared out of nowhere to become Lucas’ companion and apparent lover. She had been investigated, cleared, and yet, here she was, at the same time as a whiff of a Pheryl. He wanted to taste and dive into her aura but because his scan of the room had found no anomalies, the Directive allowed no further action. Anything further would require him obtain a warrant from the PISC (Portal Intelligence Surveillance Court). Ruan grimaced. Now that he was on the Pheryl Task Force, he was dealing more with that damn classified court. He had hoped because of the high planetary security risk posed by the Pheryl,  the PISC would be more friendly toward the intelligence and police agencies, but Kai had taken the lessons from the twenty-first century and made sure it was independent and rigorous in its application of the law. That was both good and bad. Good, if you took an overarching view of the Portals and their constitutional freedoms implications. Bad, if you were a cop or security operative working in real time. A warrant was needed to taste Alencar-Smith’s aura in depth but he lacked Probable Cause. Besides, getting one on Christmas Eve? Yeah, right.

 Mindi placed a hand on his. “Okay, husband, what’s going on?”

He carefully used his eyes to indicate a couple at a table across in the opposite corner. “Lucas Oliveira is here with Anabel Alencar-Smith.”

He stopped as the waiter walked up with a bottle of Capelli Farms Chianti. “Merry Christmas.”

“Our favorite. Please tell Luis thank you.”

 “The Alencar-Smith woman. I thought you did a DNA scan on her.”

“Yeah. But it was a remote DNA scan of her and probably not reliable enough to check for Pheryl DNA. We have so little experience in this area,”

Ruan pursed his lips. This is war, not just some criminal activity. How could he just let this go by? Alencar-Smith superficially resembled the Merge they were chasing. With disguises using DNA sculpturing how could he be sure this really wasn’t the one? But without Probable Cause he couldn’t get a warrant. He could go ahead and probe Alencar-Smith more deeply. No one would know. But if he probed and discovered she was a Pheryl, what could he do about it? He couldn’t tell anyone without admitting he violated the Directive. He probably could find a way to secretly incriminate her. He sighed. Then was he any better than the Pheryl? Isn’t that what everyone was worried about with the Portals? The temptation? He looked over at his wife. 

She took both of his hands in hers and gazed into his eyes. “Don’t do it,” she whispered. “Do it right, Ruan. We’re JIB special agents sworn to uphold the law. We can’t be like them.” 

Damn the way she always seemed to read his mind. Did she already have a Portal? It certainly seemed like it. He sighed and squeezed back. She was right. For now.

She erupted into a brilliant smile that should have lit up the entire room.  “Chill out, Hon. It’s Christmas Eve. The kids are at Grandma’s. We have a res at the Planetary Empire Inn. Let’s enjoy it. I wore this dress to package my Christmas gift to you.” Her smile morphed into something more sensuous and her eyes promised a reward later that night. No need of a Portal to interpret her thoughts. She definitely wasn’t in her official special agent mode. “I wore it because it allows you to view parts of my present while it’s still wrapped. Better yet, it allows your gift to be easily unwrapped when the time is right for unwrapping.”

He blushed and gulped his wine.