ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY-ONE: Event Planning Isn’t Hard

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******

 

Maybe I’ve found my true calling, thought Alden. He was sitting in the cafeteria at the table he’d helped clear dishes from. His tablet was in front of him, and he was adding Bobby’s name to the list of people who wanted to donate food. Event planning isn’t that hard.

Because he’d told Kabir he would take care of informing the generals, he’d sent a message to Drusi-otta earlier, asking her if it was all right to offer Esh-erdi and Lind-otta food gifted by humans who weren’t the official Matadero chef. Alden couldn’t bring himself to call Esh-erdi personally about it. “Are you too important to be in the presence of food made by people without a culinary degree?” was a bizarre distraction of a question, so…votary.

Not an assassin. One trip to a Rapport sure could reframe a lot of things.

He’d also updated the votary on his planned movements to and from Matadero today, since the last he’d heard she was still monitoring him when he left.

Drusi-otta, with her typical brevity, had thanked him and told him that the dishes presented at the day’s second meal were not something the knights considered at length.

Maybe they’ll consider these at length in a good way, though. It looks like it could be a great meal.

He sent a text to Haoyu, telling him to expect his personal trainer to show up at the dorm bearing a cucumber salad. Alden had been sending most of the Apex residents there to drop off their donations.

The hardest part of each phone call was the beginning, when he covered why and how he’d ended up at Matadero planning a Thanksgiving dinner. But he’d mastered it now. The trick was to say, “It’s not really Matadero, only the cafeteria at Matadero.”

And everyone seemed willing to let it slide even if they were still confused.

“People are so helpful,” he said, admiring some of the first entries on the list.

 

Natalie: magic turkey

Zhang-Demirs: stuffed peppers

Molly: blackberry cobbler

Gustavo: feijoada

Gretchen: shortbread bars

 

And Kabir had just scored them a small flock of Peking ducks from a friend’s restaurant.

“The entree table will look good with those in a circle around the turkey,” said Alden.

Kabir nodded absently. He was muttering and counting on his fingers. “I think we have plenty now. It’s a good mix of main courses and sweets,” he said when he finished. “For pickups—”

“I’ve told people in F to take their dishes to the TC for the batch teleport that’s scheduled for 7:45 p.m.,” Alden said promptly. “I’ll be picking up the Apex food and the turkey around then, too. After I’ve eaten dinner with my friends. I’ll be back here with it all in time…just a second, someone’s calling.”

He looked at the name. Jeffy? What does he want?

“Hey, Jeffy,” he said as soon as the Aqua Brute’s image appeared, floating in front of his eyes. “What’s—?”

“Do Artonans like jalapeño or maple smoke better?” Jeffy was standing in the Apex Wright shop, beside one of the impulse item bins, holding up two bags of beef jerky.

“Huh?” Alden stared at him. “I guess you heard about the thing I’m doing somehow. We’re good on food, though, and jerky isn’t—“

“Hey!” Jeffy dove toward the jerky display, and it shook violently. “Oops. But look. They have turkey jerky, too!”

He waved another bag eagerly at Alden.

Alden hadn’t called everyone he knew to request food. He’d focused on adults and the classmates he got along with who had Avowed parents. Mature people with access to full kitchens had been the goal, and since enough of them had said yes, he hadn’t had to resort to asking all of his peers for help.

How did the news filter to Jeffy already? he wondered.

No reason to reject him when he looked so excited, though. Alden could just leave the jerky in the kitchen instead of putting it on the feast table. Some wizard looking for snacks might find it later and appreciate it.

“Okay. Just don’t get too much,” he said. “You need to put like twelve of those packs you just grabbed back. And you can take the rest to Haoyu at the dorm. I’m asking him to collect the food in one spot, so that I don’t have to fly all over the island.”

“I could run all over the island and get stuff for you,” said Jeffy.

You still aren’t licensed to run on the highways.

“No, that’s not necessary. The plan is set. Just take your jerky to Haoyu, and I’ll go get it myself. Thanks.”

Jeffy nodded. “I’ll see you there! I need to ask you about talent selection.”

“Your own talent selection?” Alden asked. “You haven’t done it yet?”

He hadn’t realized that. He’d assumed Jeffy had accepted something that looked fun as soon as the System offered.

“The teachers all told me to wait until they’d advised me, but now I’ve let them advise me. And I don’t think they really get me, you know? So I’m asking everyone else.”

“It’s important that you like what you choose,” Alden said. “We can talk about it. Maybe not today, but soon.”

“It’s cool that you’re the Thanksgiving man for Matadero now,” said Jeffy.

A woman wheeling bags of something called “instant steel” on one of the shop’s heavy-mover carts turned to stare at him.

“Let’s not mention the cube loud enough for the entire island to hear,” Alden said.

“Sorry,” Jeffy whispered. “Is it a surprise party?”

When Alden had finished with him, he refocused on Kabir, who’d stood up from the table but failed to make it more than two steps before he received another call of his own.

“With the dry ice it should be fine,” he was saying. “All right. Thanks. We’ll take care of it when it reaches us. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

He scratched the back of his neck and turned to Alden. “That was an ice cream parlor in Rosa Grove. They’re donating, too. We don’t need it, but I couldn’t tell them no. The woman who runs it wanted to thank the generals for saving her parents’ apartment.”

“That’s awesome.”

Kabir was still frowning. “I should text everyone and let them know we’ve got enough now. I’m not sure how the ice cream parlor woman found out. She said someone named Larry had just called her. I don’t think I know a Larry.”

“That’s funny,” said Alden. “My friend who just called must have heard about it from someone else, too. I wasn’t even planning on asking him for anyth—”

[Jupiter: Don’t worry, Alden. The cornucopia will be ready in time. I got permission to skip a class, so I could make it.]

Alden re-read the text. He’d told the System to send all messages directly to his interface, so that he wouldn’t miss anything from the people he’d called.

Jupiter wasn’t one of the people he’d called.

What cornucopia? What are they doing?

“We’d definitely better let everyone know we’re through now,” he agreed. “I didn’t tell people to spread the news, but there’s obviously been a leak or two.”

Kabir nodded. “Yes. I’ll…and there’s another one. Let me answer it.

<<Hello? We’re done accepting…sushi probably would be refreshing, but we have plenty to feed the wizards alrea—yes. Yes, I understand. Someone named Korev-alm?>> He sighed. <<If I see them I’ll tell them you sent it. Yes, take it to the TC…oh, you already know that. How? No! No, don’t tell your neighbors! We’ve got plenty.”

While Kabir talked the sushi donator down from informing the neighborhood, Alden quickly sent a mass text out to everyone he’d spoken to, telling them that the Matadero Potluck was now full. No need to get more people involved. And please let everyone they’d told know the same thing.

[Jeffy: OK. I got the maple smoke, too.]

[Everly: I’ll make sure my parents know.]

[Astrid: My mother is making meatballs.]

[Haoyu: Someone just sent a pizza to our room.]

[Astrid: Should I tell her to stop?]

[Haoyu: There’s not even a name. It just has a pepperoni smiley face on top.]

[Haoyu: I’ll call the restaurant and ask who it’s from.]

“It’s only been an hour since we called the first people,” Alden said, trying to mental text answers to everyone who needed them. “Everyone must have a lot of pent-up gratitude.”

Kabir’s face was pained. “Not all of them. Someone who owns the restaurant next door to one of the ones I called is asking me how many of the Artonans are here to make employment offers and if I could put in a word for him after they eat his burgers.”

Alden sat up straighter. “The burger maker has the wrong attitude. If there’s way too much food, the burgers get frozen and eaten months from now when the next demon slaughter day happens.”

“Shhh…why would you say that?!” Kabir stared at him in horror. “Don’t remind me what this place is!”

“Right. Sorry.”

[Liam: Alden, Tina’s taking lemon bars to your dorm later. Is Candy Corny there?]

[General Esh-erdi is snakesitting right now,] Alden texted back.

“We’ve definitely got enough now,” he said aloud. “By the time the ‘stop’ message gets around it might be slightly ridiculous. But it’s fine. The TC stuff will all just arrive downstairs like a normal supply order.”

“There’s nothing normal about picking up groceries from a deep, dark basement covered in signs letting you know it could be flooded at a moment’s notice.”

Alden didn’t point out that the teleportation room was only deep. It was as well-lit as the rest of Matadero, and nothing down on that floor resembled a basement.

[Haoyu: The pizza sender is anonymous. Lexi says anonymous food is too suspicious to feed to wizards. He says I’d better tell you that since your judgement about anonymous food and wizards is off.]

“Hey!” Alden said, affronted. “My judgement of both is just fine, Lexi.”

 

******

 

When ten minutes had passed with no more calls or texts from his half of the potluck volunteers, Alden left Kabir arguing with someone who was insisting that the Artonans needed a cheese course.

He went to the kitchen to find out if they had the ingredients for the dish he hoped to contribute to this dinner as well as Natalie’s. He searched through the fridges and freezers.

Corn, peppers, no lima beans. Can I just use canned beans of some kind?

In the storeroom, he stared at the jumbo cans. Some of them were new and familiar, but most of them had black labeling in multiple languages, with no brand names. They were stacked on shelves made of stone that glowed a little when Alden touched them.

I hope they didn’t can all of this in the 60’s and just leave it here. But it sure looks like they might have canned all of this in the 60’s and left it here.

Maybe I shouldn’t bother cooking, after all. Everyone else’s dish is going to be better, and I want to take my time and make it exactly right the first time I try it.

On the other hand, didn’t taking a person’s turkey obligate you to add food to their table even more?

He checked the time on his interface. Natalie’s dinner was starting at 6:30 p.m. and continuing until everyone left. Alden didn’t have to show up on the dot. And the recipe was only supposed to take 45 minutes according to his grandmother’s note at the top.

Connie’s cooking from the family cookbook.

He didn’t know why the thought kept crossing his mind. The angry, lost feeling from a few days ago was gone mostly.

I just want to do it, I guess. A little family thing on the family day. Nothing wrong with that.

Drusi-otta was fine with him leaving the cube. Grocery shopping would take a while, but if he flew fast…oh, I could do that!

“System, call Dragon Rabbit.”

A near-instant pickup. Voice only of course. “Alden, this is Dragon Rabbit. You need things. I get them for you.”

The familiar greeting had Alden grinning at a can of probably-ancient evaporated milk.

“Dragon Rabbit! I’m glad you survived all of this stuff. Can you deliver fresh lima beans to the ocean?”

There was a pause. “You want me to throw them in?”

 

******

 

Alden and The Nine-edged Son Whose Own Mother Forsakes Him arrived at the delivery point a few minutes ahead of schedule. He decided to use his time wisely, by lying on his back in the sun, watching videos of guys using slings. He needed some offensive options for duels, and Luna Plim had mentioned slings. They were probably more practical than Alden’s desire to put something enormous on the end of his string and then smash it around like a hammer.

I’ll try that too, though. And probably dislocate my arms.

The man on the current video—a hobbyist who studied historical weaponry—launched a small rock toward a milk jug and missed for the fifteenth time.

It was obviously hard to aim, and it became even harder to aim when your sling was longer.

But Alden wouldn’t actually have to deal with that problem to the same degree. Especially if he was imagining his projectile and his sling rope as a single object.

I should be able to spin it then preserve it in a couple of different ways. Even before the start of a fight. Then, I launch the rock or temper sphere when the attacker is close, and I’m sure I won’t miss.

Practice would be necessary, and he was sure there would be some wrinkles. But he should at least be able to learn from it. More importantly, if he practiced offense instead of defense versus heavy hitters like Marsha, he wouldn’t exhaust his skill even if he lost the battle. He’d be able to keep going for the next one.

I’ll start trying it out on people I can’t possibly defend against, he decided. I still think my plan yesterday might have worked on Reinhard, though.

Dragon Rabbit’s delivery drone arrived right on time. It was a large green one with a crown of propellers overhead and fangs painted on its bulbous nose. Alden stood up to greet it and gave it plenty of room to drop the soft-sided cooler bag it was carrying. But it kept circling overhead, propellers buzzing, apparently bewildered by the nonagon.

“Right here, dude,” said Alden, pointing at the nonagon’s surface. “No, not like that. Don’t go under me.”

He spun the driving ring on his finger and flew a few feet higher. “Come here. Put the delivery on this. On top of this.”

The drone flew up again and hovered. Its lights flashed. “Please clear the deck of your ship for delivery.”

It had a voice that Alden thought was supposed to be sultry.

Of all the choices…

“The deck is clear. To get it any clearer, I’d have to jump off.”

He thought he was lucky not to have a brand new case of thalassophobia after what had happened. But he still didn’t feel like going for a cold swim.

“Please clear the deck. I want to deliver your parcel,” the drone said.

“If someone were here to entrust me with you, I’d…System, call Dragon Rabbit again.”

Another instant pickup. “Is something wrong with your vegetables?”

“They’re being held captive by a drone with a weird voice.”

“I can fix that.”

A minute later, the drone had been remote piloted into position. It lowered the cooler onto the nonagon across from Alden, along with a surprise t-shirt in a plastic bag. As it flew away, Alden examined his repeat customer reward.

The bunny-eared dragon lounging on its mound of luxury goods was cute as far as advertising went, but he couldn’t help wondering how much mental effort Stuart would expend trying to interpret the shirt if he ever saw Alden wearing it.

He opened the cooler and found the lima beans, with ice packs, plus the specific variety of onions his grandmother had recommended and a smoked spice blend that was supposed to be a good substitute for the bacon flavor.

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He smiled. I get to eat something my mom probably ate, with almost all the right stuff in it.

He was still feeling pleased with how well his day was going by the time he made it back to the kitchen. Kabir was absent, but the radio station the chef liked was turned up again, and he’d dug out white tablecloths from somewhere.

Matadero really does have almost everything if you look hard enough.

Couldn’t expect people to fight and then eat at a naked table.

Alden found an appropriately sized pot, figured out the stove, and congratulated himself on starting the water boiling process without any mishaps.

He read the recipe again.

Measure everything in advance, he decided. No mistakes.

He was looking through drawers and in cabinets, trying to find the measuring spoons, when Kabir returned, carrying an impressive tower of coolers and boxes. One giant takeout bag started to slide as he came into the kitchen, and Alden jumped toward him to grab it.

“What’s all this?” he asked.

It wasn’t time for the TC to send over a delivery yet.

Once Alden set down the bag and grabbed a box full of aluminum pans covered in foil from the next level of the tower, Kabir’s face was revealed. He looked worried.