Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88235 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88235 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“And now,” Professor Lornah said in a loud voice which carried all the way to the back of the auditorium. “Without further ado, please welcome Professor Victoria from the Kindred Mothership.”
There was a polite round of applause as Professor Lornah left her alone at center stage and everyone sat forward expectantly. The silence was overwhelming—deafening. And it was a listening silence—a waiting silence, Vicky thought hazily. They were waiting for her to speak.
But there was a problem—though all eyes were trained on her, she didn’t have the slightest idea what to say.
Chapter Twenty
It turned out to be a good thing for Vicky that she was tipsy-verging-on-drunk. The stage fright that she might have felt, being in front of an audience of stuffy alien academics on a strange world, seemed to have been melted away by the alcohol. So instead of freezing, she stepped forward, opened her mouth and heard herself say,
“Hola! Como estas?”
And just like that, she was launching into a beginning Spanish lesson.
But not just any Spanish lesson—this was the lesson she did with all her Spanish One classes that had to do with food and restaurant words. It was always a fun class because she had her students bring their favorite Spanish-inspired dishes.
Some years everyone brought tacos but other years students got inventive. She’d had them bring arepas from Colombia, menudo from Mexico, curanto from Chile, and once even a huge steaming platter of paella from Spain. It was always a fun and delicious experience for everyone and it really helped the students learn the vocabulary she was trying to teach.
Of course, all these dishes were delicious, but Vicky was still kind of tipsy and she didn’t know if she was up to describing such complex flavors into existence. So what she chose to talk about was mostly food found at her favorite Tex-Mex restaurant in the world, Pappasito’s.
She led off with some of the simpler food people associated with the cuisine—she talked about tortilla chips and the many different dips that came with them. As if by magic, baskets of hot, salty chips and little dishes of salsa, queso, and guacamole appeared on everyone’s plate.
“You choose a chip and dip it into the concoction of your choice,” Vicky told her audience. “Try them all—the salsa is spicy and hot, the guacamole is creamy and cool and the queso is melty and delicious.”
She watched as the bored-looking Professors and their students looked at each other and then began to try the food she had spoken into existence. Of course, she never would have tried to pass chips and dip off as exotic haute cuisine to a bunch of academics on Earth, but this was an alien world where nobody had ever even had a taco before, she reasoned. So she might just get away with it.
True, the food she was offering them didn’t have any squirming larvae or an arachnid-delivery system but who didn’t love chips and salsa? Well, she hoped they would love it, anyway.
As she looked around the lecture hall, she thought her first offering was a modest success. People were nodding thoughtfully and trying all three dips separately and then mixing them together. They seemed to be enjoying themselves and learning something at the same time, which was the main point of teaching, as far as Vicky was concerned. Still, she wanted to liven things up a bit more—get them really engaged.
Then she had an idea.
“Of course,” she went on, “What would a basket of salty chips be without a delicious Margarita to wash them down?”
Naturally this wouldn’t have been possible in her high school Spanish One Class, but here she felt she could serve alcohol with impunity. Especially since it was so easy to do—all she had to do was talk about an item and it magically appeared!
The thought-to-matter transference crown thing on her head was something else. She wished she could take it home and use it in her classes at Woodrow Wilson High.
She watched as the Professors—thirsty from their first foray into the endlessly addictive world of really good salty tortilla chips—picked up their wide, salt-rimmed glasses and drank.
Eyes widened and she heard many remarks drifting up about the “complexity of the mixture” and the “sweet-sour-salty blend” of the drink. Glasses were drained and eyes began to shine—people began to laugh as they looked at her expectantly for the next dish.
Vicky went on, talking about Tex-Mex and Spanish cuisine from around the world, though she stuck mostly to the menu from Pappasito’s. It was just so good she knew her audience would have to love it—especially after being forced to eat larvae and mold during Professor Lornah’s lecture.
She talked about chili con queso and pork tamales. She spoke longingly about chicharrones and redfish tacos. She explained the beauty of a perfectly balanced mole and allowed her audience to taste the most perfectly seasoned and balanced ceviche and with every dish, she offered an accompanying drink.