Fortune Cookie Caper

I just took a look at this old piece again, and remembered how fun it was to write . Pardon the preface, I know they’re unpopular, but I enjoy it – probably because its mine.

Let me know if you likey.

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Amongst the frothing bubble-bath that is the eternal multitude of parallel universes, there exists one that is almost identical to ours, but for the presence and absence of a few things. For example, nearly all of the glacial ice on this alt-quantum-earth has melted, resulting in a sea-level rise of slightly more than two-hundred feet, on average. As a result of this, many more people enjoy the fine pastime of boating, and there is a decent amount of new marine habitat for the fish.
This additional habitat would of course normally result in additional fish, except for the fact that the extra two hundred feet of world-wide-water came as the result of an increase in global temperature. This increase thusly had the effect of co-increasing the maximum size of ocean-borne predators, which of course have bigger appetites. So, there has been no corresponding net gain in the fish population, but there are ridiculously large sharks, sea-snakes, and saltwater crocodiles. This all makes going to the beach much more of an adventure.
There are also many things that are the same as on our earth. There is still an internet, by a different name, with all its attendant woes and virtues. There are still bad reality TV shows, books made of actual paper, and sonic toothbrushes. These very human things are obviously of such great import that it’s not surprising that they persist through the veils of time and space. Another of these irreducible elements is crime, and the fact that some people love a good mystery and/or can’t help sticking their noses into dangerous places.

This is the story of such people, with such noses.

Oh, and they also have fortune cookies on this parallel world, with better fortunes.

Chapter One.

It was the middle of a bright summer monday, and Sam was contemplating the big questions of life from the padded seat of a booth at a restaurant called The Sunken Noodle. The palm trees outside the window were waving in an ocean breeze that was beginning to blow, as it often did at this time of the day. Sam could see the beginnings of small waves lapping at the three posts of the Sea Needle, which was usually a good sign that his trip home would be quick. He’d already placed and paid for his order on the in-table touchscreen for number four, the “Sunken Drunken” and the robots here were quick so he knew he wouldn’t have to wait long. He could see that Silv was just passing the needle now in her boat, “The Sea Wheedle” so she’d be here in a few minutes with the parts that he was buying from her.
Sam didn’t know Silv that well, they’d only met recently on a supernet forum where he was looking to buy what she was looking to sell. The forums weren’t exactly a black market, but they didn’t offer the security of userchain guarantees either. It kept things cheap for the processing servers, but then trust had to be built on both sides of the transaction the old-fashioned way, in person. The tech that Sam had purchased from Silv at their last meeting had worked out, so he was feeling optimistic about this next piece. He had also told Silv about the other components he needed when they had met last. She’d said they were rare, which he already knew, and that they would be correspondingly expensive, which he had already guessed. He hadn’t told her what he was building, and she didn’t ask, which was the right kind of politeness for a first meeting. If she had known what it was, who knew how she may have reacted. She could have tripled the price, or refused to sell to him altogether. He had tried to check her out a bit on the mind, but her socials were clean, which he respected. It meant though, that he didn’t know where her politics lay on this particular kind of project.

The tabletop display flashed green and the table let out a pleasant chime that made Sam’s mouth water. “Your order is ready! Enjoy your Meal!” read the message that scrolled in liquid crystal letters under the tabletop. Sam hit the “Thanks!” button and the table reverted to the white and red cross-check tablecloth that he had chosen when he sat down. He looked up at the clear conveyor tube that came from the kitchen, and he watched the lidded bowl trundling through the tube across the ceiling. When it got to the wall, the bowl was transferred smoothly to the descender which brought it down to the table.
Sam pulled it out of the descender, peeked inside, and admired the robo-chef’s handiwork. It really was the same every time, and whoever had coded in the recipe had done a hats-off job. Sam didn’t need the pair of chopsticks that lay across the bowls lid, pulling out his own from a sleek metal container that closed with a smart-sounding snik. Behind him, he heard the tinkle of tiny happy bells, and a moment later Silv was sliding into the booth across from him with a drycase in her hand. He instantly noticed the essence of sea spray and sunlight that wafted into the seat with her, and he was struck again by her eyes.
“Hi again” she said, in a happy but not over familiar way.
“How are you now?”
“Pretty good, and you?” She smirked.
“Not so bad thanks.” Sam smirked back.
Silv looked down at Sam’s still-covered bowl.
“Are you going to order something? I could wait.” said Sam, being polite.
“No, I ate just before I left, so I’m good. Besides, I want to get headed back before the wind picks up much more. It gets to be a bumpy slog sometimes.”
“I hear you. It’ll be nice if the mag-lev gets approved someday, then at least there are options when the weather is rolling in.”
The storms that battered Seattle these days were just vicious. The weather people did a fine job of forecasting, but anyone living in the area was well aquainted with how mild the weather used to be, pre-rise, and how bad it could be now.
“Please, go ahead” Silv motioned to Sam’s bowl, and he lifted the lid and took a bite. Silv opened the drycase that she had brought in with her, bringing out a sealed, dark blue bubble-mailer. She put it on the table and slid it into the middle, closer to Sam.
“The diver who got this said it’s from a new spot, one that she’s never been to before. You’re lucky actually, these don’t show up often anymore. She said the seals on the building were still intact.”
“I’m definitely suprised, and thankful. Please give her my sincere thanks. I’d be interested in knowing what else comes from the spot.” Sam waved his chopsticks a bit as he spoke, and then planted them tips-first into the bowl. He raised his left wrist and made a couple slight taps on his interface.
“The money is on the way.” he said, just as a little ping came from somewhere on Silv’s person. She glanced at her wrist for a moment.
“Got it. Thanks.” She closed the big dry-case and lay it flat on the seat beside her.
“You know Sam, I do so appreciate getting business out of the way quickly. Some people just want to chat for an hour before getting around to settling up. It gets a bit tiresome.”
“Sails to raise.” he said. It was a common saying, meaning people had places to go and things to do.
“How’s the Wheedle?”
“The red light is still blinking, so I think she’s pretty happy right now. The electrics are acting up a bit though, I might have to take her to the shop. I need reliable electrics, especially on the edge of the weather.”
“You should let me take a look sometime, It might be something I have the diagnostics for.” Sam hoped he sounded nonchalant.
“Thanks for the offer, I’ll see how it goes for a bit and I’ll let you know.”

The palm trees outside drew attention to themselves with some slightly more vigorous frond waving, and it seemed to be Silv’s cue.
“Wind and water wait for no woman.” Silv said, as she looked out the window and saw the Wheedle’s masthead streamer dancing like a fleeing fish.
“Time for me to get going. Let me know if you need anything else, and ah”
she looked at the packakge on the table, “You didn’t get that from me.”
“Don’t worry, I have no intention of advertising the fact” said Sam with a smile “I don’t need any attention from the authorities. Thanks again, see you on the supernet”
Silv slid sideways out of the booth, taking her case with her. Sam caught a look from her as she left that he couldn’t quite decipher, it could have been intrigue or mirth. Whatever it was, it was pleasant, and as she walked out the door the chimes tinkled their little tune again. He watched her walk to her boat, and then took the last bite of his lunch. Silv seemed pretty level headed he thought, as far as he could tell. To the point, efficient. He liked that.

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The sensors in the table detected that the customer’s bowl was empty, and the discrete cameras in the dining area confirmed that the customer was finished his meal. This triggered the complimentary custom cookie command and a script of code was executed and sent to the robotic arm that made each cookie to order. It was a nice touch, thought up by the owner of The Drunken Noodle, and the customers liked it. Each cookie started as a soft disk that was then folded over and closed up on itself, and had a unique and often witty “fortune” inside, which was a retro idea that the restaurant owner had read about somewhere. A tiny laser printer in the robot arm would write the message on a tiny slip of paper, which was then folded into the cookie before it was cooked for 4.7 seconds, setting it’s the shape around the message. For this cookie, everything was happening the way that it should, except this time, the KitchenCook 3.0 software that ran the entire operation received external specific instructions.
The little printer in base of the arm printed the fortune as the hand-like manipulators grasped the soft disk of sweet dough that made up the cookie. A secondary hand grasped the fortune and placed it on the disk of dough. The cookie was dexterously folded in 0.7 seconds and then placed in the hyper-frier. Once the cookie was set, the arm grasped it again, placed it in a cute little paper ramekin, and pushed it into the conveyor tube.

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The message appeared in the table-screen just as the little package appeared in the descender.
“The Sunken Noodle hopes you enjoyed your meal! How would you rate your experience? Rate us 5 Stars!”
Sam thought it was very clever, the way they timed that, asking for a review just as the famous little fortune cookie arrived. He tapped the fifth star as he always did, and reached out for the restaurant’s parting gift. The cookie was still slightly warm, but it still broke in half with a satisfying snap. Sam popped half of the cookie in his mouth and pulled the little slip of paper out of the other half. He always liked how philosophical these little fortunes were. There were just seven words this time:
Sam, RF here. I need your help.