Of course, even in the Glorious Technocracy, the laundry is still a horrible drudgery and she still has to do it.

"How do - things go, from here?

I have loads of questions about - how do people here socialise with each other, it surely can't all be apartments but all the buildings are blank so it's hard to tell what anything is, am I going to need an office to talk to people in or are they going to come here, are you handling enquiries for my time or do I need to start - taking messages and scheduling - obviously I have no idea who to send messages to - 

I guess I would like to work out what's urgent - dinner, laundry, bank account, anything I need to do to get the meetings started - and then I'd like to - is it okay to sit writing at this table? Otherwise I'll want, like, a small writing desk for the room... I should get some things down on paper, before I start to forget."

"Well, people meet on the rooftop parks, and constantly invite each other to apartments. And the thing with the buildings all looking the same, that's fixed with phones; they let you know where the clubs and bars and hair salons and everything else is."

"You don't need an office, actually. We have systems that let you participate in meetings and interviews remotely. At the moment, I'll be responsible for handling the scheduling; some of the money spent on interviewing experts does go to paying the people responsible for scheduling, actually."

"We'll have enough time to order dinner - well, we have plenty of time, really - laundry comes by quick, before another change of clothes. A bank account, however is painfully involved and is one of the few things you have to do in person, tragically enough. For slightly confusing reasons, the government sends money to every bank account regularly, so they're extremely scared of fraud."

"But if we're talking about the meetings again: the Mr H does the job of letting you see and talk to the people wanting to interview you, so that won't be a problem. I'll set everything up when the time is ready, don't worry."

"And you're absolutely free to write on any table, wherever. Getting things written down would be a brilliant idea."

"I do have some - there's a bunch of normal stuff I just can't keep down - so depending on how your food is, we might need more planning for dinner than was obvious...

Bank account is for after quarantine, then? Do you have an idea of how long the investigation will take, am I going to need to go in to see a doctor about it at some point?

Is the suit good enough for me to go to, like, a nearby park if Mr H gives me directions and I come back before I need to take it off for any reason?

I think that and a bit of practice with your - message device and vision projector? - is all I need before I sit down and start sticking knowledge on paper that might fall out of my head."

"Well, we have quite a variety of foods; it would be quite bizarre if there wasn't anything you'd be able to eat."

"The bank account would have to be after quarantine, unfortunately; they take your palm prints, and they'd insist on you keeping your gloves on unless you were cleared. 10 days is a very long quarantine; I worry that it might take as much as that, if you're unlucky."

"After 2 or 3 days, we can send in a doctor to test you for what you might be carrying. There's a chance we made you sick, as well."

"The suit is plenty good for walking around in public in! Unless you were walking around vulnerable people in the hospital, people would probably let you go anywhere, really. You just wouldn't be able to eat anything or take it off."

"We actually have a park not too far from here; just walk 2 blocks to the right, then continue left until the park shows up on your right. Once you're back, I can teach you to use the phone and projector. But the projector usually works by just asking what you want, so I'm not sure you'll really need my help there."

"I think I'll stay here for now, I just wanted to know my options if I need a change of scenery? 

Is Mr H always listening? I don't mind, I just feel a bit bad just ignoring him - does he have specific working hours?"

She suspects Mr H is a collective name for a group of servants that are always on call, but he did encourage her to ask questions.

"I usually tend to prefer the rooftop park; it feels almost magical to be under the sky, the horizon visible in the distance, no buildings to break up the view. You might think the forest is cooler, though. It's been very carefully preserved, and I think that some of the groves can be really magical."

"Mr H is always listening! He doesn't really mind being ignored, and he'll be available whenever you need him. He doesn't have any working hours, no."

Not reassuring, but rather expected.

"Okay, let me just practice and check I've got it." She turns towards the projected catalogue. "Mr H, can you suggest some possible food for dinner? I can't eat onions, tomatoes or peppers, and I especially like mushrooms and carrots."

"Certainly, there are a broad range of foods available with none of those ingredients."

The catalog turns into a big-format menu, like the one you see behind the counter at a fast-food restaurant, with many attractive options: Indian, Chinese, Thai, pizza, falafel, as well as an array of super-simple dishes, like baked potatoes, omelettes, salads and rice with a raw egg. Almost all prices are a reassuring single-digit number, with some of the meat-based dishes hitting the low teens. Quite a few of the proposed options have mushrooms or carrots as an ingredient, although it seems like a bit of an afterthought in some.

"Is there anything that you find particularly tempting?"

So. On reflection, she should absolutely have expected that. After all, this place is basically the League with an Urizen colour scheme, and the menu looks like a list of every restaurant in one of the great Leaguish cities, whilst 'rice with a raw egg' is the kind of food she'd expect from a Spire.

It is pretty obvious that she is somewhat taken aback with the huge range of foods. 

"Uh, can you recommend me something? If it is in any way spicy, it's probably no good. I'd quite like something with chicken?" She hasn't mentioned meat before because she'd had no idea what kind of Vitalists they might be here, but it looks like they eat all the normal kinds of animals.

It's ambiguous whether she is addressing Mr H or Ron.

"If you insist on things not being remotely spicy, then I can offer a spice-free take on soy sauce chicken. The taste is quite excellent, and the meat is amazingly tender. It has the aftertaste and zest of lime, and comes with a side of rice and vegetables with soy sauce pre-applied. It is generally considered the chicken dish enjoyed by the largest fraction of people."

Mr H replies, this time with the voice of a classy waiter at a fancy restaurant. Ron is obviously amused by the way Mr H speaks.

"Sounds great! Uh, hold on -" she clearly turns to Ron this time, "is it a reasonable time to have dinner? And, it might be awkward to eat sitting on the bed... I saw furniture in the catalogue, could we maybe fit a tiny desk in my room?"

She tries to recall if there was really space for a table. She's a little self conscious at leaving the poor waiter, who she's obviously been handed off to from the general servant, waiting.

There would be space for a table, but it'd be pressed against the wall and quite small. There is barely enough room between the desk and the walls for the dresser to fit in the same room as the bed.

"It's slightly early by my standards, but I'd be happy to have dinner now."

"I think that a breakfast-in-bed table might make more sense, honestly. You could fit a desk, absolutely, but there isn't much room around the bed, and it'd feel really cramped."

"Laundry is pretty magical; we're proud of being able to dress our babies in all-white clothing, because the stains clean out so well. A system of you eating, changing the bedsheets, and then changing back once the bedsheets return from quarantine-laundry would be annoying, but not untenable. Or you could just be careful about eating; most food is designed to minimize crumbs or spills, so you'd probably be able to keep everything pristine just by eating carefully."

"I'd rather eat sitting up properly - a little folding table should work, then it won't be in the way of the dresser when it's folded up?"

The idea of sending out her bedsheets for cleaning every day because she's dropped crumbs in them is too horrifying to address directly - he might be happy putting their laundry people through that, but that's the kind of thoughtless attitude towards servants she's going to need to be careful not to fall into.

"Yep, we could get something that fits. You could also use the bed as an impromptu chair, if it's a vaguely appropriate height. Just something that'd fit would be quite cheap; unless you want more time to think exactly what kind of table you want, I can order something that does the job right now, and it could arrive with the food. Sound reasonable?"

"Yes, thank you!" She smiles appreciatively at Ron. "I'm sorry I'm such a hassle, hopefully it'll get better and be worth your while once the interviews start.

Unless you can think of anything else, I'm probably going to start writing notes."

"Sure, go ahead. The food - and furniture - will arrive in 40 minutes. As much as we obsess over doing things quickly, the soy sauce chicken always takes time to get ready."

"Makes sense," she agrees, putting her new notebook and pencil on the table and taking a seat.

She draws out a couple of column dividers and labels the columns 'Religion', 'Magic', 'Geography' and leaves the last one blank.

She starts filling in the columns with short headings.

'Virtues', 'Doctrines', 'Liao', 'Paragons', 'Ceremonies', 'Exemplars', 'True Liao' go under Religion.

'Realms', 'Spells', 'Rituals', 'Regios', 'Egregores', 'Laws', 'Artisanry' go under Magic.

'Nations', 'Continents', 'Enemies', 'Foreigners', 'Trade' go under Geography - she starts writing something starting 'Lib' before 'Trade' then scribbles it out.

'Senate', 'Synod', 'Conclave', 'Military Council', 'Bourse' go under the blank column, then she goes back and adds 'Oaths', 'Hearth' and 'Materials' under 'Magic'.

Then she turns to a new page, heads it Virtues, and starts summarising the Virtues - Wisdom, Prosperity, Vigilance, Pride, Loyalty, Courage, Ambition...

Meanwhile, Ron sits down and sees a few scenes from a Battle of Cape Fear River reenactment. He thinks it's just so incredibly cool to see the pirates desperately fight on their upturned ship, as the British ships are slowly lifted and freed by the tide. It's one of the most unfair battles, but he never gets tired of seeing the pirates and Brits struggling, and failing, to get their (simulated) cannons on target.

It's the end of another reenactment and it ends in the predictable, if boring way: the British ship, lifted by the tide, ends up in a position where it can fire on the pirates with impunity, who become forced to surrender as a result. The announcer speaks:

"It's a classic finale to this battle, this awesome end to a fantastic piratical career. I never get tired of these battles, from the 'age of wooden ships and iron men', and I'm excited to see the next battle that this company elects to bring to life. This was a riveting episode of 'Muskets and Marines Battles'; see you next time!"

Of course they have gladiatorial arena battles on a huge scale, that is exactly what you do if you're Terunael.

She reminds herself sternly she is in no position to pick a fight about it, yet - it's surely going to be much more effective to inspire them with tales of the Paragons until they decide to stop for themselves.

She starts taking some rough notes while thinking about the Paragons.

Zoria for Wisdom, although actually it seems like their society has plenty of Wisdom, if a hospital staff member is confident she can live like a noble on the proceeds of answering curious questioners. Maybe they'd actually like Atun better, but not a priority.

Good Walder for Prosperity, hmm, she's going to have to recall a good Exemplar too - Good Walder makes less sense if you've moved on from being primarily farmers. Zemress, probably, there's a perpetual campaign to get her recognised as a Paragon anyway and, well, they clearly like the age of sail and trading ships even if they fly everything everywhere now.

Vardas for Vigilance - no, while there's more about Vardas to say, the Sentinel is more the kind of Vigilance she would like to teach, if they're running enough slaves for huge elevators and constantly on call servants and naval gladiators she doesn't want to emphasis fighting against Freedom.

Kethry for Pride. She guesses she's going to be taking a lot of inspiration from Kethry herself, as she's stuck here as a single representative of her culture.

The Marked for Loyalty - ugh, maybe she can just talk about Elayne Silverlark, that sounds more like it will actually provoke understanding rather than her making a lot of stuff up.

Korl for Courage, of course, she's always liked the stories of Korl, insisting on retrieving the secrets of iron even when everyone told him it was foolish. Probably save Ahraz for whoever seems like they might have abolitionist sympathies.

...and while she prefers Tian, she expects they'll find Aldones more relatable for Ambition. And it will let her explain past lives and Atuman and building on what your soul offers you.

A while later, Ron stands in front of the elevator, as the cute and charming little cargo bot shows up with the soy sauce chicken, his favorite Indian place's tandoori chicken dinner, and the box for the folding table rolling in a mini-trailer behind it. He pats the robot on the "face", the marketable dot-matrix screen responding by creating a facsimile of a pleased expression, as he takes the 2 meals and the table into the apartment. The bot makes a little chime before it disappears behind the descending elevator, likely starting on a laundry round on the return trip.

"Food's here! And the table! Want me to set up the table in your room?"

He takes the 2 boxes of food, carrying them onto the table in the living room, while leaving the box containing the folding table just in front of the elevator.

Judith looks up as the elevator arrives. Aww, they have little boggart type critters delivering things. That's at least better than human slaves doing it.

"If you don't mind," she replies; she thought briefly about insisting on doing it herself, but practical furniture assembly is not exactly her speciality. She follows him through to make sure she can see it unfold and guess how it folds away, though.

Ron walks into the bedroom for Judith, taking the table out of the box. He lifts the table up, and the hinges of the table are simply pulled down by gravity. He sets the table down, blocking the way to the dresser. The table is a bit short if she wants to eat while sitting in bed, but it's really not that bad.

Ron then pushes a clearly visible purple button, that popped out of the hinges when the legs of the table were pulled down by gravity. The table's hinges then started only going one way, letting the table fold down again as he turns the table around and gravity can only push the legs down.

Then he just extends the legs of the table again, pushing the purple button again.

"You should probably want to get a feel for how the folding table works, yourself. Basically, it uses a togglable one-way hinge that makes it so gravity can only lower or raise the legs of the table when you turn it around. It's super simple and super-stable; I think it's just such a genius solution."

'push a button' is not actually a totally normal mode of operating an object for Judith, but it makes sense if she thinks about it like a puzzle box.

She expects to have trouble lifting and inverting it, but it's more unwieldy than heavy - in fact she almost throws it the first time because of how surprisingly light it is.

"I think I've got it!

I guess if I take things from the kitchen to eat with I should wash them up in the bathroom before I bring them back out - do you have spare dish soap?"

"Actually, the safest thing would be to put them in a bag to be taken away to quarantine-cleaning, and get someone to get you new cutlery afterwards. We actually clean anything sent back to a restaurant to quarantine-grade, anyway; if you leave your cutlery and plate in the box the food came in, they'll give it a quarantine-grade cleaning."

Ron walks out and returns with the box of food with cutlery on top.

"I have to insist that you keep the door closed whenever you eat; I'd rather not have you open your mouth without a PAPR system ensuring you don't spread any germs."

"Yes, of course. Uh, it seems like the room is very - contained - won't the bad air just come out with me when I open the door again?"