Chapter Seventeen – A Home Visit

Chapter Seventeen – A Home Visit

“French was, until the fall of Canada and the dissolution of the province of Quebec, the official language of the Quebec region. It’s still a language widely spoken today, with well over fifty percent of the population in the region being at least fluent in French.

However, the language of the modern world is English, and without governmental oversight, educational reforms, and most importantly a powerful cultural background, most people in the region tend to learn English as a primary language.”

–On the French of Canada, 2043

***

I arrived at home entirely exhausted. The sun had set already, so I’d flown through the night with nothing to beat back the neon glare of the city.

It wasn’t that bad. After all, my current entirely-reasonable sleep schedule had me waking up a bit before noon, so it really only felt like lunch time, but at the same time coming home after dark made it feel like I’d been working all damn day long.

Plus it was a bit of an eventful day. Productive, sure, but eventful.

I was a little surprised to notice a car parked out front right next to my mecha. The house had defences, and I’d told Myalis that using them on media, police, or anyone that seemed annoying was totally fine.

Once I got a little closer, I could see why the car hadn’t been blasted off the roof. It was a muscle car, all sleek, aggressive lines and painted a black so deep that swallowed the light around it.

I’d recognize God’s Righteous Fury anywhere. Which meant that Gomorrah was here.

Or maybe Franny had taken the car out for a ride. That depended on whether Gomorrah would allow her favourite person to drive her favourite car. I wasn’t sure which of the two sat higher on Gomorrah’s list of priorities.

I parked my significantly-less-cool-than-the-Fury bike a couple of metres away then leapt off of it.

“I’m home!” I called out as I opened the front door. I removed my helmet and tossed it onto the nearest couch as I made my way in deeper. The kittens were spread out and around, doing their own things, and I got a few hellos from the older ones.

Then Nose ran up to me and stopped right in my way with shining eyes. “You blew up the mayor!” he said.

“Just his head.”

“That was awesome! Can I have a gun?”

I considered it. The responsible thing to say was no. “Sure,” I said. “But not right now. Maybe ask Grasshopper, she can give you like, safety lessons. Stop you from blowing your own head up.”

I wasn’t going to teach someone how to aim when I could barely figure out depth perception myself.

I patted Nose on the head until he squirmed away, then made my way deeper in. There was some noise in the kitchen, someone laughing, some music playing at a fairly low volume. I paused by the entrance and looked in to find the kitchen more occupied than ever before.

Gomorrah was sitting on the little island thing to one side dressed in casual clothes. Or as casual as Gomorrah ever was, which meant a blouse and button up sweater over a skirt that stopped below the knee. It was all very 1950s housewife chic.

Lucy and Franny were by the stove, Franny cutting up some carrots with swift ‘clack-clacks’ of a knife while Lucy stirred something in a large pot. Lucy was in her PJs still, but with an apron tossed on, Franny looked like her style was more street punk than anything, but it was pretty toned down at the moment.

“Hey,” I said. I felt a little overdressed in my coat and skinsuit armour.

“Catherine, you’re here,” Gomorrah said at the same time as Lucy shouted “Cat!”

Lucy abandoned her post to run up and give me a quick hug, a peck on the cheek, and a pinch to the ass before she grinned and ran back. “I’m cooking!” she said.

“I see that,” I replied before going over to the island. “What are you two doing here?”

“Just visiting,” Gomorrah said. “Thought you could use some company.”

“Aren’t you on vacation too?” I asked as I sat next to her. “I figured you’d have better things to do than spend time with the likes of me.”

Gomorrah shook her head. “You’re not terrible company,” she said. “Not great, not terrible.”

Franny snorted at that, and I had the impression I’d just missed out on an in-joke between the two of them. “Well, I’m glad to have you over! You’ll be putting Lucy’s grub to the test? She made this fish thing yesterday that was pretty good.”

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“Pretty good?” Lucy asked. “If you want to taste fish again you might want to try a bit more flattery than that!”

“It was excellent,” I said. “Best fish I ever had. Finger-licking good.” Gomorrah looked at me strangely, but I dismissed her concern with a shrug. “So, enjoying your time off? I heard you were burning some stuff.”

“Testing some new equipment,” Gomorrah said. “What about you, Catherine?”