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Ch 17, SParty: Space Party

Logan's idle thoughts left him wondering just what his burger was made out of. He'd made the mistake of watching his normal-looking cereal get created that morning and the process was anything but what he'd consider natural; it was as if the process was done at the molecular level. Sure, it tasted the same, but it was constructed more than it was cooked. That, of course, was only a very VERY small part WAY in the back of his mind; the forefront thought in his head was how amazing the burger looked... smelled and-- ooooooh yeah... TASTED.

Star smiled across the table at him. "That good, hmm?"

The young man ate with gusto, chewing and swallowing before he spoke quickly so as not to interrupt his own meal. "AMAZING!"

She laughed. "Well, despite this place presenting as a 22nd century restaurant it uses a similar food fabrication system as elsewhere, except it's dialed into neural sensory broadcast. Every dish they serve here draws on your experiences of it in the past to put together the best possible version for you-- don't forget your fries."

Just about to take another bite of burger, Logan humored her and picked a single french fry out of the pile; it was amazing to see how pure they were in their almost-uniformity. Although a lot of his friends had given him grief over the fact that he preferred his fries just a little chewy and limp, he'd always liked the more potato-y flavor of french fries that weren't super crispy. Taking a bite of the ones on his plate further reinforced that impression; they were, in a word: perfect.

Star swallowed a bite of her sandwich before speaking again. "I'm glad you like it here. It's one of my favorite restaurants. Between the ambiance and the food, you really can't beat it here on Luna."

Not that he didn't want to continue the conversation, but Logan took another huge bite of burger before setting it down. He swallowed, took a sip of his water, then gestured to the Vixen's meal. "So... PB&J, huh?"

His niece tittered at that, patting the uneaten diagonally cut half of the sandwich on her plate. "Mmm hmm. The nostalgia is real."

She smirked, obviously bemused at his assessment. "I suppose you could say that. Everything they have is good, but I like these. My mom made the best PB&J ever, so when I eat them here it reminds me of her."

Logan shot her an incredulous look. "You're kidding, right? Susie HATED peanut butter and jelly."

Star laughed as she pulled a kettle chip off her plate and tossed it into her muzzle. She chomped noisily. "Well, I suppose peoples' tastes change over time. Whenever she didn't have a lot of time it was her go-to... at least while peanut butter was available."

The young man ate another fry as he considered her statement. "Oh... so they finally went extinct? Scientists said they might in the next twenty years."

The Vixen nodded, sitting back in her seat. "Functionally extinct... not common enough to be an industry, anyway-- still tracked on record for synthesis or for reintroduction. Plus, the war certainly didn't help. Anyway-- how about we consider some happier topics?"

Logan was perfectly happy to slip past the discussion on extinction and war, but something else was eating at him. "Okay... but I'm wondering: how often do you eat here?"

She shrugged. "A few times a week."

He contemplated her answer. "You know... considering how old you are, I have to wonder: do you ever get tired of... well... just about anything? Like, food for example?"

Star out-and-out laughed. "Wow... out of ALL the possible questions, you want to know if I get tired of food?"

Logan rolled his eyes. "I mean, like, specific dishes, or cuisines or, I don't know... chicken, or something?"

His niece tapped the edge of her plate as she seemed to consider his question, chewing on another bite of her sandwich and swallowing before answering. "Well, of course... too much of anything gets old. After the third or fourth century though you learn how to space things out. Honestly, it's different for each person. Sure, sometimes I'll go twenty years between having a beer, but that's just because other things catch my attention or I get into a 'phase' of something else for a decade or two."

The young man nodded in thought at her statement, but that brought up another question that he hadn't realized he'd been wondering. Glancing around at the other people in the restaurant he saw something consistent among them. "Star... is it just me, or is nobody here ordering beer? Or... like... any kind of alcohol?"

She didn't answer is question right away, turning to regard where his eyes were pointed. Star looked back at him. "Oh, there's a time and a place for alcohol, or for any other kind of substance. Considering most cocktails are made with syntahol these days to help accentuate the taste, I'd say that it's much less common than it was back in the 22nd century... it certainly isn't NEEDED anymore."

He wasn't really sure what to make of the statement. "What do you mean, 'needed'?"

The Vixen slid the rest of her mostly-empty plate away from herself. "Well... seeing as an implant is capable of controlling hormones, chemicals, and biologic responses, if people want to relax they'll just have their implant do it. If they want to stay awake they'll have their implant do it. If they want to have a 'sensory experience' they'll have their implant do it. There's no reason to take chemicals to alter your brain chemistry since our implants can create the sense of being drunk, or high, or stoned, or blitz, or buzzed whenever we want."

Logan really didn't know what to say. "Wow.... really?"

Star nodded. "Yes. In fact, most folks who drink actual alcohol to get drunk do it for the 'ritual' of the experience. In my opinion, though, it's a lot better to choose when you want the effect to start and end-- no need to actually drink yourself into being drunk."

They continued chatting as he finished off his meal. The discussion stayed on substance use long enough for her to instruct him on how to change the settings with his implant. she walked him through getting drunk, and getting high; both of them were surprisingly mundane functions that felt incredibly awkward since he went from stone cold sober to 'three sheets to the wind', and then back again immediately.

He wasn't wholly sure about the 'artificial' nature of it but Star assured him that it was far safer, and far more predictable. Still, she reminded him, there was no reason he couldn't do it the 'old fashioned way' if that's what he really wanted out of life. It was a fair compromise, he agreed, and liked the idea of not having a hangover in the morning. The conversation was as enjoyable as always and, before he knew it, evening had arrived. She was the first to speak up about it. "Hmm... I should probably be heading out... the party is in thirty five minutes."

The world around him once again invaded his personal bubble and he realized that she was right. "Oh... right. The party."

She stood, smiling down at him. "You ARE invited, you know."

Logan nodded. "Yeah... I mean... it IS my graduation party, right?"

Her tail flicked from side to side as her smile widened. Holding her paws clasped together against her chest she leaned forward. "So... and, again, no pressure but... would you like to come?"

Rolling his eyes, he realized that he only KINDA did, but, with her there, practically begging, he couldn't say no. "Well... like I said, I'm the guest of honor..."

Her smile was the largest yet and she helped him stand up, hugging him once he did. "Good. I didn't want to try and sway you one way or another, but I'm glad you're coming, Logan. It's not just about me showing you off-- I think meeting more people will be good for you... a chance to make friends, or at least get to know people."

Logan remembered how often his parents tried to get him to go out of the house and 'socialize', but, when Star asked him it felt far different-- he was actually excited to join her. He also had to admit to himself, however, that a good part of the draw was the fact that she'd be there. That realization caused a cold needle to strike his chest when he realized that she might socialize with others and leave him to his own devices. Reaching out he grabbed hold of her forearm. "Just... don't abandon me in there, 'kay?"

Star's response was a hearty laugh. "Geez, Logan... I'm NOT going to abandon you. I want to introduce you to people and I can't do that if you're hiding under a table."

He shot a sour glance at her, only to be rebuffed with a smiley fox face, complete with two upside down black V's for eyes. Sighing he knew innately that she got a free shot at him because he couldn't possibly rebuke her with that kind of cuteness on display. Sighing, he finally admitted it. "You're incorrigible."

Her tail wished happily. "I know."

* * * * *

Understanding that the Lunar Spire was insignificant in population compared to some of the cities back on Earth in his time, Logan had the understanding that it was relatively large as far as Trans-Humanity habs went. Arriving at the venue Star had chosen really helped put that into perspective-- that, and the nearly two thousand attendees. His implant courteously informed him that the exact count was 1894-- 1896 since he and Star had shown up. He couldn't remember the last time he went to a party with more than a few dozen people; his graduation ceremony beat that out by a factor of... well... he didn't know, but it was a lot.

His implant came to the rescue again with the answer. "One hundred, fifty eight."

Considering the last time he'd been around so many people was his senior year in high school at an all-class assembly, it had been several years (his implant ponted out that it had been several CENTURIES)-- the interruption to his train of thought made him forget what he was even comparing and he let out a long sigh. His implant was kind enough to remind him that he was comparing his graduation ceremony to an all school assembly.

Logan changed his focus outwardly, glancing around the huge number of attendees. He'd been at the Lunar Spire for a week and he hadn't met a majority of the people present; every now and again he did recognize someone. Fortunately, Star was by his side. Leaning toward her he asked quietly "Do you know ALL these people?"

She offered a gentle smile and winked. Rather than speaking, he got a data-based contact from her. "I can tell you're uncomfortable... you're whispering instead of just send me a private messaage."

The young man recalled something else, and didn't even bother whispering. "You're probably broadcasting anyway, aren't you?"

Star smirked. "I am... but if it's important just let me know and I can always filter messages from you."

He realized that was quite an offer from someone who prided herself on full transparency. "Thanks... it's fine. I was just surprised at how many people were here. You know all of them?"

She nodded. "Personally, yes. When you have centuries to live you tend to do a little networking. We can find someone you're familiar with if it'll help you relax. Look-- there's Pete."

He followed the gesture she made with her muzzle and he looked just in time to meet Pete's gaze. his instructor offered a welcome smile and raised a hand in greeting. Star gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow. "Well? Shall we?"

Logan decided to take her up on the offer. "We shall."

Pete had selected a small standing table and the three of them filled it nicely. Small talk was never Logan's strong suit but, when he was around people he knew things came easier. Their discussions were simple-- a few comments from Pete about how well Logan did on his final, the fact that everyone passed the class, and that he was hoping that he'd get to hear back from everyone a month or two down the road with an update on their lives. Logan had a feeling that it was Pete's subtle way to ask to be updated.

From there, Pete offered a few more pieces of 'free wisdom' including a suggestion that Logan stay away from multi-Hab communities consisting of repurposed transport shuttles, limited operational hour Habs, Habs named after their 'owner', and Habs that didn't allow trans-humans-- for ease of memory, Pete reinforced the list with an abbreviation of 'Shuttles', 'Limited hours', 'Owner-named', and 'Purity' which, together spelled "SLOP". As a rule of thumb, most trans-humans avoided SLOP Habs.

The classification of those four specific Hab types made him curious. "Well.. seeing as I'm a trans-human with all the upgrades and everything that last one makes sense... but what about the first three?"

Star started things off. "Most Habs made out of repurposed shuttles are lawless, unregulated, and unsafe. There's nothing more frightening than having a hallway separate when you're trying to pass from one bulkhead to another."

Logan couldn't wrap his head around such a thing. "Really? I figured anything trans-humanity made would be super-safe to the 'n'th degree."

Pete shook his head. "Not everything... and, besides, most patchwork Habs were put together from human technology... some of them are hundreds of years old and they don't WANT to upgrade them. It takes a special kind of person to thrive in a fleet habitat, and that would not be most of us."

Shuddering, the young man nodded. "Okay... I'll keep that in mind."

The black man took a sip of his drink and continued. "As for limited operational hour habitats, most of them are filled with rules-- not all, mind you, but everyone having 'a bed time' is usually a good sign that a hab is governed by a control freak."

Star and Pete clinked their glasses together as they chuckled over the apparent joke. Logan just shook his head. "Wow... I knew there were differences between Habs I didn't realize that some places were so crazy."

The Vixen shook her head calmly. "Not 'crazy' by any means, but there is enough space in this solar system for everyone to get what they want... and some people like stability, predictability, and lots of guidance."

Pete acknowledged the statement with a nod. "True. Some folks like others to do the thinking for them, and enjoy being guided their entire life. For them, NOT having that kind of structure can be very frightening."

Logan couldn't argue with that reasoning. "Okay... I guess that makes sense."

Star drained the last of her drink. "Logan, sweety, will you be alright if I step away for a minute? I saw a few people I need to say hello to... I'd really love it if you come join me when you're ready so I can introduce you."

Although he wanted to object, he realized that Star had indeed spent all of her time with him up until that point and, at the very least, she helped lead him to someone else he knew. Although he wasn't about to commit to being her center piece, he would at least consider it. "Okay... maybe in a bit."

She offered him a kiss on the cheek and headed off further into the room after offering a quick 'thank you' and 'goodbye', leaving him with Pete. The black man continued right where they left off. "As for the owner-named Habs, pretty much any Hab that is named after one person is the sign that whomever had it put together is a megalomaniac, or is so full of self-importance that visiting it means you'll be subjected to all of their self-interest. While not specifically dangerous, per se, it can make for some very unenjoyable visits if you go to the wrong one."

Logan chewed on that thought for a moment as he took another sip of his soft drink. "So... when you say an owner-named Hab, you mean like 'Fort Matt', or 'Jefftopia', or 'Gary Land' and stuff like that?"

Pete laughed heartily. "Uninspired names are the worst of the bunch. EXACTLY like, that, yes, Logan."

That brought up quite the question. "Then what about a place like Ozar's Realm?"

His companion's neutral expression immediately lightened as a huge smile spread across his face. "Ozar's Realm? Oh! That's completely different. The name has to do with the fact that it's a themed hab."

Logan rubbed the side of his head. "Yeah... Star was telling me a little about it. I guess themed Habs are pretty cool?"

Pete shrugged. "They can be. Certainly Ozar's Realm is-- one of the few times I've done Iactis, in fact."

The young man paused, setting down his drink. "You've been to Ozar's Realm?"

The black man nodded. "Sure have. Just once though. I don't handle Iactis well and I spent the first two days there recovering, so it's not something I'd do regularly, but I enjoyed the next three days of my five day stay-- before spending another day sick at home when I returned to my body."

Logan was actually about to correct Pete on his use of 'body' versus Corpus but he remembered that Pete was, in fact, in his original body, and so the term was indeed valid. "Oh... so... is it too far away or something to go physically? I know distances in the solar system are really far, but wouldn't that be an option?"

Pete took a sip of his drink to subtly mask the wry grin developing on his lips. "No... Ozar's Realm requires that each visitor use a specially made Corpus when they visit. Since it's a themed Hab, everyone's Corpus has to match the aesthetic. Elves... Dwarves... Gnomes... Centaurs... all different creatures with a fantasy theme. When you go there you get to choose a 'character name' for yourself and your Corpus. In fact, Ozar, the owner, has an Orc Corpus when he visits."

That reveal immediately caught Logan's interest. "So... the owner named the Hab after himself, huh?"

Pete nodded with a chuckle. "One of the few cases where it's not a megalomania-thing, yes... and it really does work."

"And his name is really Ozar, or is that just a 'character name'?"

Pete smiled. "Depends on who you ask. Is Star's name is really Star? Names are what you have people call you."

Logan thought about that a moment before jumping a short distance back in the conversation. "So... it's a 'fantasy world'... and... it's like a resort or something?"

His companion nodded, finishing off his drink. "You could say that, sure. There are a few full-time residents... people who like living there and help out, or who stay there on a three month contract, but also some trans-humans who just like the genre. About 90% of the people at any given time are visitors though, yes.

The young man was about to ask another question when a masculine voice with a European accent spoke up from thigh height. "Ah... talking about Ozar's Realm, are we?"

Logan almost jumped at the additional dialogue, looking down to see Noah gazing up at the two of them. Pete was less disrupted. "Yes, Noah. Logan has never been, and I was talking to him about the difference between Ozar's Realm and most other owner-named Habs."

The dog made a canine expression that read as one of disgust. "Ugh... definitely not. I doubt I will ever willingly visit another one of those any time soon. I have had my fill of SLOP for the next eighty years at least."

Shrugging off Noah's obvious distaste for SLOP Habs, Logan focused on the dog's statement about the themed Hab. "But you like Ozar's Realm?"

Noah's tail began wagging. "Oh, assuredly, Logan. It is a fantastic experience. I encourage people to go as often as their schedule allows. In fact, I was there just a matter of months ago, and I plan to go back again soon."

The young man finished off the last of his soda and set the glass down. "So... what was it like, exactly? Is it a ren-faire or something?"

Logan realized he was either getting really good at telling when someone was doing a metanet search, or else Noah didn't bother hiding it. "No... not a 'ren-faire'... more like a resort where everyone is playing one very big game massive multiplayer role playing game. I have been a fan long enough that Ozar was kind enough to make me a custom Corpus. The last time I was there I got to be a humanoid wolf."

"Like... a werewolf?"

Noah wagged. "No... just a humanoid wolf all the time-- no shape changing. It was a lot of fun. I enjoyed myself as usual."

Logan glanced around the room, seeing if he could identify where Star had gone; he saw her chatting with three individuals who gave off a similar 'well to do' air as her, though they seemed a little more 'snooty' about it, adorned in fine clothing and jewelry-- one of the women had lime green hair done up in an imitation of a three foot tall 'shrub'. He snapped his attention back to Noah. "So.... more like Star then?"

The dog nodded, his tongue hanging out of the side of his muzzle. "Indeed, Logan; JUST like Star. I enjoyed that Corpus as a character-- two legged, fierce, and bloody sexy as all get out. +10 to sexual prowess too."

The statement left Logan brain dead. When he finally thought of something to say it turned out to be a question. "Sexual prowess is some kind of attribute on Ozar's Realm?"

A wide, rakish grin split Noah's muzzle in two. "Oh, my dear, sweet, naive Class One... on Ozar's Realm ANYTHING can be an attribute if you try hard enough."

Realizing very quickly that he was reaching the end of comfortable small talk, Logan gestured over toward his niece. "Well... it's been fun catching up, Pete... uh... Noah... but I really should go join Star."

Pete nodded, taking another drink that was brought to him as he sat down on a raised stool. "Have a good night, Logan. Congrats again on gaining full citizen status."

Noah likewise said his farewell, albeit, a little more 'insistent'. "Do not be a stranger, Logan. Feel free to seek me out any time."

Heading toward the Vixen chatting away amidst a group of people on the other side of the room meant that Logan was subjected to many congratulations and well-wishes as he went. Although he didn't specifically recognize any of the people who seemed to recognize him he realized he could thank them each by name due to his implant; in most cases he just kept his response simple and didn't bother, basically holding his breath until the crowd opened up enough around the group interacting with Star.

As he approached, the Vixen gestured toward him. "Speaking of..."

Five sets of eyes (six including Star) turned toward him. Star's introductions were fairly quick for the first three individuals, all of great significance to the Lunar Spire; Logan was apparently meeting the 'higher ups' in the trans-human society on the moon. It became even more intense when Star finally introduced the last two. "Logan... this is Celia, the mayor's partner and Keith, the current Mayor of the Lunar Spire."

The young man was willing to extend a hand in in greeting, but was flabbergasted when, instead, he got a hug from the mayor and his wife. Voice cracking ever-so-faintly, Mayor Keith said softly. "I am SO glad to finally meet you, Great Uncle Logan."

Star was all smiles. "Keith also happens to be my son."