11:28 30/04/2587 –(8734/673/48/87)

“I guess Erilur should be home by now,” Gabriel said, checking his calendar. He did miss that scaly busybody even though he had not given much thought to what she had said. It wasn’t necessary, he was doing just fine, and he would continue to do just fine.

“Gabriel, look, there’s going to be an eating competition,” Risoti said, grabbing hold of Gabriel's arm and pulling him to the display board.

Gabriel had to check what he was seeing. The advertisement looked more like some chess tournament combined with a boxing match instead of the low-brow display of gluttony it was.

He had seen some television shows and a few videos on the local internet, but he had guessed they were a niche thing, but looking at the way everyone glanced at the display, he was clearly missing something.

“I… I don’t…. what is everyone so excited about?” Gabriel asked, gesturing to the sign.

“It’s an eating competition, you know, one of the most popular sports in the galaxy,” Nish explained as if she were talking to a five-year-old.

“It’s a bunch of overweight losers stuffing their faces for a load of rubes,” Gabriel countered, his sentence coming out a little more scathing than he originally intended, though not by much.

Nish and Risoti looked at him like he had called all doctors a joke.

“There’s evidently some culture clash here; why are eating contests considered lowly on Earth?” asked Risoti, drawing on all her experience in the classroom to keep things civil.

“It glorifies gluttony, consumption for entertainment rather than need,” Gabriel explained, somewhat surprised he had managed to make his sentence so eloquent on such short notice.

“Well, I guess you have a point, but what’s wrong with that?” asked Nish, who was finding this new perspective she had been given challenging to wrap her head around.

This attitude came from the different selective pressures their homeworlds had created. Habitable worlds were energy-rich; this abundance of food was due to a molecule similar to ATP but better.

In turn, this meant that the plant analogues on habitable worlds had more energy per gram, which also meant that the animals did not need to worry about food shortages, except in times of extreme scarcity.

As a result, most habitableworlders had poor energy storage systems, so they needed to eat little and often. On the plus side, it meant obesity was nearly impossible to achieve; most habitableworlders would need to eat nonstop for months on end to become overweight.

Logically this would mean food was seen less as a precious resource and more akin to air. Hence eating contests are considered a legitimate sport rather than a spectacle of overindulgence.

Gabriel could see the logic; it was still weird, though.

“You should sign up, Gabriel; you’d wipe the dirt with them,” Risoti suggested, her excitement bubbling up.

“No! No way in hell,” Gabriel replied, crossing his forearms to make an X right in Risoti’s face.

“Why not? I think you would be marvellous,” Nish replied. “There’s nothing wrong with watching a man push his body to the limit like that,” her voice taking on the same quality as when she thought of her one-time lover's physical traits.

“Nish, are you attracted to people who can eat a lot?” asked Gabriel, honestly believing he was grasping at straws.

“Of course I am, aren’t you?” Nish asked, looking at him, confused; it was known as the universal infatuation.

“I’ve never really considered it,” Gabriel responded with a shrug. “Even if I wanted to, I’m a deathworlder; I would have an unfair advantage,” he added, as his eyes were drawn to the prizes, five thousand credits in gift vouchers, viable in any shop, on seventy worlds.

That was quite the prize, Gabriel was not overly materialistic, but that amount of money was tempting.

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“Shouldn’t the antidiscrimination laws allow it?” asked Risoti.

“No, it’s not discrimination when one species has a clear inborn biological advantage over another,” said Gabriel. “I mean, Nish would kill it in a high jumping competition; she can fly, after all,” he added, gesturing to her.

“You two can give it a go,” Gabriel pointed out.

“We can’t compete with these people; they will have been training for months,” Nish explained.

Given the context, Gabriel shook his head; there was something incomprehensible about that term.

“Can we move on, please? This is supposed to be a lazy day, no long trips, no jumping into enclosures and no getting lost,” Gabriel said

“You’re cranky,” Pista said, climbing onto his back.

“Maybe, I didn’t sleep too well last night,” Gabriel replied, stretching and cracking his knuckles.

“Eww,” Pista said, with a mixture of revulsion and amazement

“Gabriel, please don’t; I just ate,” Risoti said, covering her mouth.

“It’s just bubbles forming in my joints,” Gabriel explained.

“It’s gross bubbles forming in your….” Risoti tried to finish her sentence, but her attention quickly shifted to not barfing in the street.

“So I take it you won’t be taking part,” said Nish. Gabriel responded in the negative, and if he was reading her right, Nish was disappointed.

“Now come on, if we spend all our time dawdling, we will miss the movie,” Gabriel explained. They were going to see an animated children's film. They had chosen it because it was

supposed to be pretty good, and because it was showing in Ketrok, the native Tufanda language Pista spoke.

Though Pista could speak Galactic basic, her grasp of the language was not complete, and she could not follow subtitles with any consistency.

***

All in all, it had been pretty good, formulaic, to be sure, but the characters had been well written, and the plot compelling enough. Gabriel supposed his biggest complaint was how tame it had all been; even for a kid's movie, it had lacked any real physical risk.

“Ah, we missed it,” Risoti pouted, pointing to the eating contest that was in the business of being packed up as the winner accepted their prize.

The event had taken place in a sizeable pedestrianised plaza, and judging from the number of people milling about; it had had quite the turnout.

“God sake, if you miss it that much, I’ll just stuff my face in my apartment,” Gabriel said with a wave of his hand.

“Really, you’d do that for us?” asked Risoti, her excitement building.

Gabriel did not know how to respond. He had meant it as a sarcastic comment to show how silly it was. But to Risoti’s ears, Gabriel had done the equivalent of offering to put on a private gymnastic performance.

“Erilur always refused to do it when I asked her,” Risoti added, with a mix of disappointment and sadness that her girlfriend was not here with them.

Gabriel was hungry and supposed it wasn’t too weird to have them watch, as long as they had a drink or something. It was times like this that, for all the same base desires as humans, aliens were alien.

***

It was an interesting platter laid before him or platters—each filled with dozens of different bite-sized foodstuffs.

There were two main categories in eating competitions, amount and endurance. Amount was just how it sounded, whoever could eat the most. Endurance was all about the problematic foods, either because of toughness, spiciness, saltiness, sourness or other extreme flavours.

It seemed Nish and Risoti had ordered a meal that covered both categories.

Even though Pista had never said anything, she was excited about what she was about to see. Sighing, Gabriel tried to think of it as an adventurous food experiment.

“What’s this one?” Gabriel asked, holding up what looked like a tiny apple.

“That’s a Brelo, also known as the juony fresol, which roughly translates to devil’s fruit,” Risoti explained, “very famous back home, people usually just dab it on their food; eating it whole would be agony.”

Gabriel shrugged and put the entire thing in his mouth. Gabriel hummed his enthusiasm, “Nice, sort of like very sweet and mild jalapeño,” he said, swallowing the tasty treat.

“Wow,” Risoti said; she had expected it, but seeing it for herself was entirely different. She had seen videos of Etulana, who had eaten it accidentally or for a dare. Seeing one enjoy it gave her the urge to try it for herself; fortunately, she was wearing her mask, and the risk of a horrible infection stopped her.

“Try that one next,” Nish said, pointing to a small slice of meat.

“What is it?” Gabriel asked, giving the delightfully charred piece of flesh a gentle poke with his fork. Paradiseworld or not, you could never be too careful.

“It’s from an animal called the Yorek, a flying mammaliaform, known in certain circles for being an endurance test during the Hekol civilisation’s courtship displays,” Nish explained, showing off her knowledge once again.

Gabriel took a bite and immediately frowned, “It’s sour,” he proclaimed, “it’s mouldy lemon chicken.”

“But you haven’t thrown up,” Nish commented.

It went much as it began, Gabriel would try something, and nine times out of ten, it would be edible but awful. There were some exceptions; the Collum was similar to porridge but nicer; it had a natural sweetness that meant sugar was unnecessary.

“This is an endurance food?” he asked, scooping another spoonful of the warm mixture into his mouth.

“Yeah,” Nish answered, watching him consume mouthful after mouthful of the toxic substance.

Gabriel finished his bowl, and he was now well and truly stuffed. “I wrestled two of the mightiest predators in the galaxy with my bare hands, but this, this is what fascinates you.”

“Please, Gabriel, I don’t want to think about that day, not yet,” Nish replied, blinking rapidly. Nish was having a rougher day than usual; she probably had a nightmare last night.

“Yah, yah, yah, yah, yah,” Pista called out, covering her ears.

“This far less… deathy than the other feat,” Risoti explained.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Gabriel replied, gently banging the tabletop.

“A weird way to spend your afternoon, but not unpleasant,” thought Gabriel.