Today's Earth date: May 27, 1992

I wish I had a camera. Adventuring gear leaves the most ridiculous tan lines. Mom and dad would laugh so hard at what my helmet did to my face.

-The Journal of Laszlo the Paladin

Wayne exited the Iomallach Quick Gate, stepping into Kenny's workshop. A partially reconstructed WWII fighter plane sat in the middle, surrounded by toolboxes and loose parts. Kenny bent over one of those toolboxes, wearing cutoff shorts and an equally tiny midriff top.

She jumped when she heard Wayne, spilling a socket set across the floor.

"Sorry," Wayne said, kneeling to help collect loose sockets. "I wasn't trying to sneak up on you."

"You'd think I'd expect it by now, but I'm still gettin' used to this gate stuff I guess." Kenny glanced at her airplane. "She isn't ready to fly if that's why you're stoppin' by."

"I wanted to talk with you about a commission, actually."

Wayne summarized the party's desert travel problem for Kenny. She nodded along quietly.

"A wagon that can travel on sand without anything pullin' it… What was it you called it?"

"A vehicle."

"Right, you want me to build you a vehicle. Did you have those in your world?"

Wayne nodded. "A lot of them. Deserts were tough business there too, but if anything was meant to travel in sand, it usually had oversized tires or something of the sort to distribute the weight."

"Tires?"

"Wheels."

"Basically, y'all are needin' a boat with wheels," Kenny said.

"That's a fair description," Wayne replied. "I also don't know much about vehicles from my world, so it's possible I'm steering you in the wrong direction entirely."

"You know I can keep an open mind."

"Yes." Wayne blushed.

"I'm up for the challenge. When do you need this by?"

"...the end of the week."

"Oh, Wayne. You know that ain't happen'."

"I figured." He might not be a mechanic, but Wayne knew inventing and building a new kind of vehicle in less than a week wasn't feasible. "How about we do this: Think on it, and let me know if you come up with a design. Maybe there's something I could do to help."

"With the Diary?"

Wayne nodded.

"Alright. Do I just come knockin' on your cabin or what?"

"Yep," Wayne replied. "If I'm not there, leave a note. I'll swing back as soon as I can."

"You got it."

Armond had been a soldier prior to joining up with the Zeroes. Wayne had heard his stories of long marches and operations that spanned several days. Very little sleep was to be had on those occasions, giving Armond a unique resilience to exhaustion and even more enviable ability to fall asleep anywhere, any time.

So when Wayne saw the former medic with dark bags beneath his eyes and the vaguely out of focus gaze brought on by fatigue, he knew the clinic had been busy that day.

And it was still busy.

Wayne entered the clinic via the train, so he had to lean around the portal to Maliit to get a look at the line outside. A dozen people or so waited patiently for their turn to see Armond.

"I don't believe it," an older man with a raspy voice said.

Vanilli slid open the curtain around his workspace. The older man sitting on the table was gray and weather-worn, his face rough and creased from years of working beneath the desert sun. Part way down his right forearm, flesh and muscle stopped, becoming a skeletal wrist and hand.

He stared at the bones in awe. "It feels like the real thing." Looking over his shoulder, he asked Vanilli, "And I don't owe you nothing?"

"Correct. Please send in the next person."

The old man hesitated, as if expecting Vanilli to join in the fanfare that regaining a hand warranted but seemed to accept that was not going to happen. He thanked the demon-in-disguise once again and exited the clinic.

"Looks like the clinic has been busy," Wayne said.

Armond walked a young mother and her daughter to the door to see them out. After that, he replied to Wayne. "Very busy. People have been kind, though."

"I'd hope so."

"What can I help you with?" Armond asked. "Do we have a shipout time already?"

"Nothing like that. I wanted to let you know that leaving in a week is looking too ambitious. We'll probably be longer, so don't feel like you have to run yourself ragged to be ready in time."

"How long is the delay?"

"Hard to say," Wayne said. "Outlawson is rubbish in the desert. No one will rent us horses-"

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"What about donkeys or camels?"

Wayne sighed. "Not donkeys or camels either. If you have other ideas, let me know. The best I've come up with is asking Kenny to invent something for us."

"That sounds like a long shot."

"It is. Our next options are walking or saying 'screw it' and cancelling the job."

"What is she hoping to invent?" Vanilli asked as he directed another patient to the table, a child on crutches. Her left knee and below were missing. The scars suggested the experience had been painful.

"Something that can cross sand without sinking or needing a team to pull it."

Vanilli paused to think. "Interesting."

"Are we doing anything in the meantime?" Armond asked.

"Fergus and I are going to do what research we can, but there's nothing you guys need to worry about."

"May end up having to go to Bata and looking for a solution there," Armond said. "You'd have access to more resources at the very least."

"You might be right. I hope you aren't. I really don't want to do all of that back and forth."

"Agreed. If you plan to do any grinding, by the way, I wouldn't mind coming along."

"Sure. I can do that. And I know I'm late, but do you need any help here?"

Armond shook his head. "We're almost done for the day, but thank you."

Fergus opened the back door to the clinic car.

"I was about to check Iomallach for you," Fergus said. "Glad I heard the ruckus."

"Ruckus?"

"You talk loudly sometimes."

"Do not."

"Do to." Fergus gestured for Wayne to follow him. "I need your input."

Wayne nodded a goodbye to Armond. Vanilli had already closed the curtain to begin work on his next patient, so Wayne opted to not disturb him.

Fergus led Wayne through the Quick Gate cars, through the car that would eventually double as a restaurant wine cellar, and into the dining car.

The walls were raw railcar, but black tiles covered the floors, and a series of fine runner rugs rested on top of those. The tables in the car were draped in white tablecloths and each had a candle and vase at their center. The chairs themselves looked well made and were stained dark.

"We can seat thirty comfortably," Fergus said, rubbing his hands. He struck Wayne as being anxious. "What do you think of the ambience?"

"Uhh… It's nice."

"Oh no it's not." Fergus flopped into the nearest chair. "It's completely uninspired. This should be a special experience, something that's one-of-a-kind in every way."

"That sounds like a lot of pressure to put on yourself."

"I can't very well let Sammy down. I have promises to keep to that boy."

"I'm sorry I didn't have a better reaction," Wayne said.

"Nonsense," Fergus replied. "The student merely confirms what the master already knows."

"I'm not a-"

"What do restaurants do in your world that we don't? Perhaps we can find inspiration there."

Wayne chose a chair for himself. "Umm… there are a lot of restaurants on Earth."

"Give me the strangest and most memorable."

"Well…" Wayne had to pause to let himself laugh. "There's one that's like a carnival and a theater mashed together. A giant rat gives you pizza at that one. Then there's a few where the meal is either cooked in front of you or you're given your food to cook. There's either a grill or a pot of hot oil or melted cheese for those."

"Right at the table?"

"Yep."

"I am not even responding to the rat restaurant. High-class establishments only. Please."

"Sometimes you can pick your meal when it's still alive. That was always weird to me. A lot of places are big on music, either featuring it or building their theme around it. There was a bar in my city where a little person came out from under your table to serve you a drink when you rang a bell. That reminds me, people also eat at strip clubs, so food with live dancers. I never went to Japan, but supposedly they have a muscle mommy restaurant and one that features girls dancing with mechs."

"It seems as though you are struggling to grasp the prompt."

Wayne smiled. "You wanted Earth inspirations."

"You mentioned that dining cars were common on trains."

"Right," Wayne said. "They are common, but my understanding is that the scenery out the windows is a big part of the appeal. We don't have that here."

"No, we do not."

"But maybe that's actually an answer. You're not leaning into the theme of the restaurant enough."

"Go on."

"The idea is that diners can experience fresh dishes from all over the world, right? The setting should reflect that. Maybe you keep your fancy tables but hang a painting for each of the cities that you use in meals. It's classy but visually interesting."

Fergus looked around the car. "We could paint a map on the ceiling as well."

Wayne chewed his cheek. "Might come out a bit tacky."

"I have an idea for that."

"Then yeah, a map would be cool. Have you and Sammy named this place yet?"

The old scholar shook his head. "I'm leaving that to Sammy. I've inserted myself enough into this project. He should get to name his own restaurant."

"This idea reminds me of two things. One is a train traveling through outer space. That happened in a series I liked. The other is a book in a series I like. 'The Restaurant at the End of the Universe.'"

"Going to need you to explain the second one."

"There was a restaurant built specifically to let patrons witness the end of the universe. Through some chicanery with time travel and interdimensional space travel, they could take guests from any time or place without anyone dying along with the universe. I thought the idea was pretty funny."

"The metaphysical nature does seem similar to our projects," Fergus admitted. "I need to get my mind off of this. Sammy's naming it, not me. The less I think about it, the less likely I am to ruin that for him."

"Armond asked about grinding levels. Got me thinking about going out tonight."

"I am in favor. We should tell the others, yes?"

"Yeah."

Wayne opened their shared chat on his HUD.

[chat]

W: Ferg and I are grinding some XP tonight. You're all invited.

A: Tonight?

M: I'm in.

H: wht time

A: If you all don't mind late, I could use a couple hours to nap first.

H: i like naps

W: The nap is a good call. Hitting a short rest on the train will make sure we're all flesh.

M: See you then.

A: ^

H: did armunds chat break

W: It's a way to say "I agree with this person." I'll tell you more tonight while we're out.

H: ^

[/chat]

Repressing the urge to correct Hector on his chat shorthand, Wayne closed the chat menu. Hopefully they could find enough mobs to make the group outing worthwhile. A level gain would mean two more game unlock slots to fill. He needed that thrill.

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