Quoted By:
Much hasn’t changed since you were last in the townhouse – one living room, one kitchen, three bedrooms. There’s an aged quality to the wallpaper, sun-faded and at least a year or two away from needing replacement. Everything from the furniture to the appliances speaks of second-hand refurbishment, even more so than the overall aesthetic of Babyloina’s mantra of repurpose and recycle.
The Godwin-Barbets had always been frugal. Up until the accident, they had been saving money to move outside the tiers, towards one of the greener arcologies to have space for more family to run around. God knows whether or that’s fallen through, or a distant dream for the family.
But for all intents and purposes, 673 Harbor Hill is home. It’s lived-in, and it’s theirs…and yours, if they hadn’t rented out the guest room. One promised to be yours in perpetuity, until the time came for a larger apartment, and a house for more children plus an uncle.
Caroline seats you at a scrubbed, wooden table, at the end affording a view of Dockside. Idly, you recall that this had been your favorite seat whenever you’d come calling. “Tea, coffee?”
You choose tea, grown and ground here in the city’s own ‘Hanging Gardens’. What Babylonia lacks in landmass and fertile soil, the city makes up for in hydroponics and aquaculture. Thus, it isn’t too much of a misnomer for the city to revive the title, even if it’s more commercial than cultural. The city-state feeds not only the Belt, but exports foodstuffs across the Flooded World. But the tea’s good enough, and quality seafood is relatively inexpensive, if somewhat repetitive on one’s palate.
As Caroline brings a kettle to boil, she continues talking: “Three years, Sinleq! Three years, and you then you suddenly decide to come.”
“I said I was sorry, didn’t I?” you grouse.
“I’m not angry. Just...curious, is all. What prompted you to suddenly visit?”
<span class="mu-i">“You need to send the real me a birthday gift soon. I miss you, uncle.”</span>
A hallucination of Tom induced via head trauma wouldn’t be a good answer. Thus, you accept the tea with quiet thanks, inhale the gentle scent of fresh barley tea, and offer a shrug: “…I guess I suddenly had the feeling.”
She rolls her eyes, stirring a pinch of sugar into her cup. “Is that a euphemism for something?”
“No.” Nursing your drink, you take a gentle sip, allowing yourself to feel the passage of warmth that spreads throughout your body. “It just happened as I was getting off the ship.”
“I…see. So how long until you have to return to the Marduk?”
“Not for a while. And I’m not on the Duck anymore, so…don’t send anymore letters there.”
Caroline nods, then frowns. “…and were you planning on telling me this, or would I have had to wait until I got my letters back?”
Cringing slightly, you retort, “I would’ve told you. Really!”
“In-person or over the shortwave?”
(cont.)
