This wasn't the first time Lsis was in the capital. Her hometown, Company 56, wasn't far from here and sometimes the house needed supplies they couldn't get hold of in their own company, and she would be the only one in the house that hadn't work to attend. But ever since she hit the seventh grade, the academic pressure left her with less and less leisure time even during the weeks she was home.

The capital was big. Like a spider web, interconnected streets radiated off the center where the monolithic building stood: the 25000 MW Iota power station, the tallest man-made structure in the world standing at almost six hundred meters (2000 feet) tall. The sheer magnitude of the building invoked the most intense feeling of awe and reverence out of Lsis every time she had seen it. The heart of the nation, lines of cargo trucks and camel teams could be seen carrying resources out of the capital to other major cities, like the nation's bloodstreams. Beneath the station was the largest natural gas reserve found in Stripea, while the top of it was the parliament building of the Democratic Dictatorship of Medicalism.

The narrow streets were crowded with local soldiers, clergymen, children, and foreign merchants alike; despite Iota's conflict with the Eastern tribes, merchants still crossed the West-East line bartering for resources and products, and since Iota's official policy was to accept every defected tribesman, it was no rare occurrence running into Easterners speaking their heavily accented common tongue.

Lsis found the trading post she had visited so many times before. Ahead of her was a long line of people all eager to trade their labor for sustenance or accessories. She would have to wait for a while.

The road was clear of snow thanks to the wooly bison carrying the massive snow plow shovel, often followed by a small crew of animal caretakers. The megafaunas that did survive into the dark age relied solely on one singular element: human domestication. These animals, untamed in the wild just fifty thousand years ago, were now happily doing minor chores for human society; their lives were often more protected than even soldiers, and messing with these animals would immediately grant you a misdemeanor mark.

Trucks carrying cargos or soldiers drove past Lsis' line, sometimes splashing the snow onto bystanders' clothes, inducing moans of annoyance. Only the most central part of the capital could afford street lights, out here, light towers tried their best to illuminate the road. A newsboy across the street was shouting out the news of the day. Snow was growing, and the wind started to howl...

"Comrade? Girl? Girl!"

"Yes!" Lsis snapped back, "Lsis of Sixth Division, Fourth Battalion, Company 56."

The bespectacled woman at the window stared at Lsis for a moment before looking into her cartridge machine for Lsis' profile; the clicking sound the machine made every time the woman switched to another slate was strangely satisfying.

"Id."

Lsis handed her Id card.

"Birthday?"

"Twentieth of Fourteen, 148."

"Yeah. Whatcha got?"

Lsis put several boxes of bullets onto the table. "May I have some quilts and silk?"

"Does 56 not have it? There is a down factory in the fourth battalion last time I checked."

"They ran out. The down production is not... great this quarter."

"Hmm," the woman pondered for a short while, "I will inform their supervisor." She went to the back of the storage unit and fetched a package of silk, "I don't imagine you can carry the quilt with you. Who is your driver?"

"Ou of Sixth Division, Fourth Battalion, Company 57."

The woman did a little searching in the machine, "he is leaving at five. Don't miss the truck. We will send the quilt to the truck directly. Good health."

Her mission was finished, but there were still some hours away from the departure time. Lsis searched her backpack for a compass but instead found the medal her father gave her this morning. Right. She could get some good food out of this thing.

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The wind was only growing, the dark cloud above the city rumbled every so distantly. Please don't be a lightning storm or surely I would be stranded here. Lsis sauntered down the crowded street to see the luring building just a block down, the public dining hall.

Eating was always a private matter, doing so in public was utterly devoid of dignity and self-respect. Only the idle and the ruined would willingly eat in a public diner: the draft dodgers, the sloth, the do-nothings, the shameless. The humanitarian spirit of Medicalism guarantees sustenance and domicile even if one decides to not work a single day in their life, yet it does not guarantee privacy. Just imagining eating in public, showing one's look of gluttony and greed while shoveling food into one's mouth hole to every passing stranger, was enough to make Lsis feel sick to the stomach.

Yet chances were, if someone who wasn't known for idleness was seen entering the dining hall of their own volition, they would probably draw many pairs of envious eyes. Because only the first few floors of the building were designated public dining, the top floor was often made into private diners, where people could cash in the bonus they earned from work for a dedicatedly made meal.

And Lsis was heading just for that place. She quickly scuttered away from the abhorrent sight of dozens of disgusting dawdlers chowing together, all the while chattering away with unchewed food in their mouths for everyone to see; she wondered why they couldn't have the public hall on the top floors so as to spare others of the dreadful scene.

The top floor was noticeably quieter. The small tables made for no more than four people were sectioned into small cubicles so that privacy could be preserved. Lsis came up to the small window where a rotund woman sat.

"Good health," Lsis greeted and handed her father's medal and her Id to the woman, "I want a proper meal... by myself."

The woman scrutinized her a little, "a little young for a lone meal, don't you think?"

"A little young? I am only three years away from becoming a legal adult!" One thing Lsis could not stand was her maturity being called into question.

"Where did you get the medal anyway? You didn't go thief it from someone, did ya?"

"It's a gift from my father!"

The woman checked the serial number on the back of the medal and looked through the cartridge machine, "your mother's name is?"

"Flla of Sixth Division, Fourth Battalion, Company 56."

"Fine," the woman looked a little displeased with the fact that Lsis was able to get her meal, "find yourself a table. We will send the food to you."

Sitting in that tiny cubicle all on her own, Lsis' heart was pounding against her chest in exuberant excitement. She had never had a meal on her own before; her parents may have brought her to a diner when she hadn't even gone to school yet, but any collection of that event had since been lost to time. Oh god, she thought to herself, I am going to eat a meal. A proper meal somebody dedicatedly cooked for me! Am I really here? How should I tell my friends about this? Maybe I shouldn't, they would be mad jealous...

"Your food, comrade," a pair of ownerless hands pushed the little curtain aside and delivered her the tray, "enjoy. May the light confute the famine."

"Umkalib, Shumzukly." Lsis whispered, and the curtains were closed. The sound of footsteps going away, then silence. She was alone in the cubicle now, with her food.

It was a piece of bone-in pork chop sitting on a small bed of sauteed fern. It was a piece of meat! The most meat a normal soldier of the Republic would consume on a daily are those tiny pieces of gristle and sinews found in those dark meat cakes! This is a piece of meat cut straight off the animal, off a pig... Calm down Lsis! These are meat pigs raised and reared for food! They lived a happy life, happier than most soldiers on the front line probably! They are slaughtered according to the rigorous regiment of Medical Conscientism! They are not Smooch! Smooch is a hell pig! An entirely different species.

Forgive me Smooch, but I'm eating your cousin.

The entire dish was lusciously glistening underneath the lamplight. The entire pork chop was golden brown, its rind of fat caramelized and crispy; a brown sauce presumably made out of lard drizzled over the entire dish. The plate even came with a carving knife and a two-pronged fork. It took Lsis a few minutes to handle the utensils properly, but her gaze was completely fixed when she cut a chunk of the chop, exposing the marble white meat and crystal clear fat inside. She put the chunk into her mouth.

It was an orgy of amino acid, glutamate, and unapologetic lard; the proteins triggered the most primordial pleasure mechanism in her brain, and the flavor of caramelization and saltiness gave her entire body an electric shock therapy. The juiciness of the meat was unlike anything she had tasted before, and even the fern, just slightly sauteed with no other seasoning, tasted delicate and complex now drenched in pork juice and brown sauce.

At first, she still tried to uphold a sense of civility by using the fork and knife, but after several failed attempts of getting the meat off the bone, she resorted to using her hands, and all hell broke loose. She ravaged the plate in minutes, licking every bit of the sauce clean and gnawing on the piece of bone, trying to suck the marrow out of it like a caveman. Finally, calm once again found her. She laid back on her seat and let out a long satisfying sigh; a nap would be really nice by now, she thought, that felt like a dream, a dream where she ate without portioning, without inhibition, without frugalness, without the gaze and judgment of others, without shame. A smile climbed onto her face, and it stayed there for a very long while.