Chapter 3: In which Albright decides what to do and where to go
As Albright contemplated his new predicament, Traynor contemplated clouds. He had never been outside for any definite period of time. Albright had a skin condition which made his skin take the color and texture of an overripe lobster, so he had never considered taking Traynor outside. And, as Traynor’s sole human contact was his father, he had no way of knowing what was normal and what was not. This will become painfully obvious soon.
Albright picked up his pace as his mind raced. He and Traynor were now on foot in the downtown of Athens, Greece. They had raced away from Remcon in Albright’s vehicle, but Albright had decided to stop in the city to eat and contemplate Traynor’s fate. This clipped pace, then, was Traynor’s first exposure to the city and other people.
“What?” Traynor said, pointing at an Asian couple walking nearby.
“It’s rude to point at Asians, Traynor, they take that as a sign of hostility. See? You’ve angered them already” Albright replied, blissfully unaware that the shocked look on the couple’s face was a reaction to his comment, not Traynor’s.
Albright’s poor social skills were not just a product of his upbringing or his time in the war in America, he also seemed to be genuinely unaware that his words and actions were inappropriate. He did not consider himself to be racist, but he just couldn’t bring himself to trust Rwandans, Lithuanians or Orcs. But had more to do with a violent history than any innate dislike. Interestingly, he thought Germans were charming good chaps.
Traynor and Albright crossed the avenue, and walked down the blackened street that held the commercial district of Athens. Most shops were closed as if a train had crashed into the area, but one Indian restaurant in particular looked as if it had just opened.
Albright led Traynor into the restaurant, past a man in a trench coat who was busy dry heaving. Traynor paused momentarily, a look of concern on his face. He stared at the man, focusing on the trench coat for a moment, before walking into the building behind his father. Albright, meanwhile, did not notice anything as he was busy studying the menu posted on the door, looking for a meal he could stomach.
Not sure, he walked inside and sat down in a booth. Traynor went in behind him and attempted to pull himself up to the seat beside his father.
“Do you want a booster seat, sir?” An Asian lady in an apron said, coming into view behind them.
Albright turned to her, contemplating the question too long. “No, I’m tall enough.”
“For the child, I mean.”
“Oh, him? No, he’s nearly 6, he’s fine.” Albright said.
“Two!” Traynor corrected, holding up three fingers on each hand. The waitress stared at him, confused. He looked two, he said he was two, but he held up six fingers and his father said he was six. She figured it wasn’t her problem and proceeded to take their order.
“Some milk and ¬cookies, please, and maybe a sandwich for the boy.” Albright commanded. The waitress paused for a beat, then decided she didn’t want to spend any more time at the table than necessary and went back to the kitchen.
Traynor, meanwhile, had made it onto the booth and was looking at the restaurant with abject admiration. Albright attributed it to the novelty of the scenario, but Traynor kept the incredulous look well into his twenties.
Albright stared at him, then spoke as if explaining a well-thought out plan. “Traynor, we need to find a geneticist. Geneticists are scientists th—”
“You!”
“That’s right, they’re scientists like me, but they’re far less boring. And they probably read the human genome before they started messing with creating human life. But we all make mistakes, right? I may have sentenced you to a cruel, short and painful life, but you did terrible in your math class earlier today. The important thing is to forgive and forget.”
Traynor smiled.
“But I haven’t forgotten that I assigned you make up work for your mistakes,” Albright castigated.
Traynor frowned, sure he had not been assigned such a thing. Indeed, he didn’t think he had ever been able to successfully complete a homework assignment. It just all seemed so complicated.
Then Albright suddenly seemed far more serious. “Traynor, I need you to understand this. You will die before you turn 30 unless we find a way to fix your cellular reproduction.”
He stared at Traynor. Traynor looked back, perplexed.
“Die?” He asked.
“Die. But don’t worry, we’re going to go see some of the best geneticists in the world and I will fix this problem if I have to master another discipline to do it… I guess what I’m saying is we’re moving. To Guatemala. Tonight.”
“’Night?” Traynor puzzled.
“Yes, I fly by the seat of my pants. It’s much easier than waiting for a good night’s sleep in order to make a decision. You remember that, that’s good advice: always do whatever you decide before you decide not to do it, or else you’ll never do it, got it?”
“Gottit,” Traynor decided to do it.
“Okay, now, a person that hadn’t decided to do something would get up and walk out of the restaurant right now, but we still haven’t gotten our food, so that would be silly. Just this once it’s okay to decide to do something and then barely do it. It’s a corollary you’ll understand later. Corollary. Say it.”
“Oronary.”
“Sir, here’s the shabib you ordered and some dal for the child,” the waitress chimed in from behind them.
“We didn’t—“ Just then a shout went out through the restaurant, barely eliciting a response. A young voice shrieked “Praise be to Allah!” Albright, the waitress and some of the customers turned to look as the young man that had been vomiting outside, inside with his trench coat wide open and several sticks of dynamite clearly displayed on his chest.
Albright stared, the waitress went on to the next table, handing an elderly gentleman his drink. Traynor stared through clenched eyelids.
“Shoo! Shoo!”
