Havoc and the Cafeteria Queen: Chapter 11: Jackie 1.7: Peanut Butter Jelly Time

Okay, I get that online recipe sites need advertising to pay for hosting, and I get that they can’t put the recipe at the top because the advertisers won’t buy ads like that, but why in the name of Epicurus do so many of them put ads right in the middle of the recipe and instructions? I need a shopping list, Sharon! I need to keep the instructions on my screen because decades of online interaction have left me with the memory and attention span of a fruit fly!

I just want to make crispy treat bars in my microwave? Is that too much to ask?

• Budget Gourmet, meta food blogger, 2031

***

The ingredients are right where I left them on the stained stainless steel tables. Nobody’s come along and turned the bread and jars of spread into actual food, so that’s on me. Before I get started, I take stock of what I’ve got to work with.

I’ve got four loaf shaped Protector boxes and eight jars. Other than my logo, the jars don’t have any kind of labeling. They’re just clear plastic jars, three big ones full of something brown, three medium sized ones full of something purple, with the remaining two small jars being yellow and white 

The lids are a little odd, clearly wider than the jars themselves. I pick up one of the jars of what I assume is peanut butter. The lid pops off smoothly, and I shift my mask up to the top of my head to sniff at it. Definitely peanut butter. Way richer and more peanutty than anything I remember smelling.

“Hey Chyrl? Why the weird lids?”

With no need to make the jars smooth for packaging and delivery, it made more sense for the jars to lack necks that would make it harder to get all the contents out.

“Huh. Weird. Gonna take a little getting used to maybe.”

I could make future deliveries in more traditional Terran jars.

“Nah. Not bad. Just weird. Lemme think about it.” 

I put the lid back on and pick up one of the jam jars. When I pop the top, the scent reaches out to grab me by the nose. Not just the sweet tartness of the grapes, but something else. It takes me a bit, standing there with my eyes closed while I rack my brain, trying to remember where I’ve smelled or tasted something like that before. I finally recognize it from a bottle of shampoo mom scored way back in the day when the school had reliable running hot water in the outer buildings.

“Is that honey?”

It is. The recipe you selected called for honey as well as jam, but I saw no need to keep those ingredients separate, as it called for mixing them together before applying them to the sandwich.

“Huh. Thanks. Kinda wish I had some to try, though. It smells so good. Way better than the Honeysplosion Stinger flavor packets.”

I cannot think that any genuine ingredient would taste worse than anything in Füd Bärs.

I think as I carefully do not stick my finger or tongue into the jam jar just to taste something that smells that good. “How are you getting genuine ingredients?”

It depends on the ingredient. Some are created in semi-traditional methods via hydroponics and automation. Others are created via organic and inorganic nanomachines which create substances indistinguishable from traditionally created materials at a molecular level. While one or two gourmets claim to be able to taste the difference…

“Ain’t no gourmets here. Just hungry kids. So long as it’s healthy and tastes good, I’m pretty sure they won’t care.”

From the research I’ve done, the human sense of taste is, in fact, an evolved method of detecting the healthiness of foods.

I laugh as I check the two remaining jars. The yellow one is a mustard spicy enough to make my eyes water a little just opening the jar. The other I’m not sure about. Checking the recipe it ought to be mayonnaise, but this stuff isn’t disgusting white flavorless glop. The color is different; off white or maybe pale yellow-beige. It’s got tiny flecks in it, so small I almost think I’m imagining them until my vision zooms in to show me that yeah, they’re little itty bitty bits of leaves or something.

“What the heck?”

Did you forget you replaced your augs with ones specifically designed to assist with scientific research?

“Uh, yeah, kinda.”

Then the smell of the mayo hits me. It’s not the ‘eggs gone bad and beaten into submission with vinegar’ I’m used to. The vinegar is still there, yeah, same as in the mustard, but where the mustard is a ganger with all his bling on looking to score, this is one of those top end corpo escorts that show up in dramas sometimes, wearing a nice suit with tasteful men’s jewelry like cufflinks and a nice watch, maybe some rings. Smooth, rich, savory enough that I want to take a little bit and just let it melt in my mouth. The herbs accentuate that, and the faint hint of egg underneath is fresh omelette instead of six week old egg salad.

Jackie? Licking the mayonnaise is discommended.

I blush and put the cap back on the jar. “You didn’t mess with that mayo any, did you?”

Only in that the recipe I used for creating the mayonnaise is the highest rated one I could find rather than ‘egg whites, vegetable oil, vinegar, puree until smooth’.

“Huh. Okay. Guess top tier ingredients really are top tier for a reason.”

Indeed.

“Well, time to get started.”

I figure the peanut butter and jam will survive the heat a little better than the cheese and mayo. I’m still a little worried about the bread getting stiff and stale, though, so I carefully remove the first loaf from its box and ask, “This’ll be good until this afternoon when the kids are ready for them, right?”

It will, indeed. If you wrap the individual sandwiches carefully, it should prevent the bread from going stale.

I nod, then lay out the first loaf of bread, forty slices in close pairs. I pull out an old spatulate sandwich knife and spin the top off the first jar of peanut butter. I scoop out some… [35 ccs] of peanut butter.

“What the heck?”

Lab Jack It’s Augmentation Package includes fairly accurate volumetric measurements.

“Neat!” I scrape a little bit of peanut butter back into the jar until I’ve got [30 ccs] left on the knife, then spread it across the first slice of bread. After two more I’ve got a rhythm down, not to mention being able to eyeball that perfect two tablespoons reliably. I work my way through all twenty slices that are gonna get peanut butter, then scrape the knife on the edge of the jar and put the lid back on.

I argue with myself for a moment about whether to actually wash the knife, but I’m not sure how good the water quality is today, and the peanut butter sandwiches are getting jam anyway. I pop open the first jam jar and start distributing one tablespoon of jam to each. It seems a little excessive, but I figure at worst it’ll convince the kids to eat everything. Soon I’m scraping the bits of jam off the knife and closing the jam jar.

Flipping twenty sandwiches closed only takes half a minute, at which point I dive under the counter for some paper napkins. I frown at the half empty package, realizing there’s no way I’ve got eighty napkins left. 

I sigh and say, “I hate to ask, but…”

Recyclable, biodegradable paper napkins?

“Please.”

New Purchase: Paper Napkins x10,000
Points reduced to... 23

A huge protector case with my crossed spatula logo thuds to the ground next to the walk in door. I walk over, pop the top, and smile as I see the kind of nice, fancy napkins you get at a drive through coffee shop rather than the leftovers I scavenged from the local knock off franchises when they all went out of business. Instead of the emblems of burger and dairy royalty, each one has my crossed spatulas embossed right in the middle.

“Thanks, Chyrl. Why so many? Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

Because paper napkins are significantly easier to manufacture than nine millimeter rounds, so this is one point worth of paper napkins. Per my best estimate, at any rate.

I nod my thanks, grab a stack of napkins, and get to work. I unfold each one, then carefully fold it around each sandwich. When I’ve got them all covered and stacked up, I carefully lift the stack, tip it over, and slide the sandwiches back into the box the bread came in. I have to push a little to get it to click shut, but not so much that I’m crushing the sandwiches. Okay, not badly enough to matter for hungry kids, and at least this way the bread won’t go stale.

I pop open the second loaf of bread and work my way through making the next twenty sandwiches. Midway through that batch, I hear some really quiet pops from outside and tense up.

“Everything okay, Chyrl?” By the time I’m done speaking, the gunfire stops and an alert pops up.

Targets Eliminated!
Reward... 26 Points

A small batch of threes. ‘Selene’ took them out per your instructions, although Robert did hit one from the far end of the school. He’d make an excellent sniper if he can hit targets accurately at that distance with a simple handgun.

“Yeah. Once I’ve got the turrets set up and some points saved I’ll see about getting him a rifle, maybe?”

Would you like me to remind you?

I make a note in my new augs, but still say, “Please. Kinda tough juggling keeping the boys supplied and keeping the kids fed.”

As you wish, Vanguard.

I go back to mass production of sandwiches. I mean, I never really stopped, just slowed down, but I get back into the swing of things. Half an hour later, I’ve got three Protector bread boxes full of peanut butter and jam sandwiches. I realize at that point that I don’t remember how many of the folks I’m feeding have nut allergies.

“Chyrl? How many cheese sandwiches did I need?”

Six.

“Thanks, Chyrl!”

I make a note in my augs about that, then lay out fourteen more pairs of bread slices. I’m in the zone now, and before I know it I’ve got the remaining peanut butter and jam sandwiches made, wrapped, and ready to go back in the box. Then I realize something I hadn’t thought of before.

“If I store the peanut butter sandwiches with the cheese sandwiches, are the allergic kids gonna have a problem?”

Possibly.

From the tone of her voice, I get the idea that there’s a solution, I’m just not seeing it. I pull the remaining bread out of the box, close it up, and leave it stacked up while I go to the sink and clean the knife off. If I had another one I’d use it, but I don’t, so I just gotta clean it up as best I can. As I’m rubbing it dry with my cleanest towel, I walk over to the stasis box to pull the cheese out. Right then I realize, but ask just to be sure.

“Will the Stasis Box keep the bread from going stale too?”

It will.

“Nice. Thanks, Chyrl.”

I’m not sure why you’re thanking me, but you’re welcome, Vanguard.

My knife clean, I start on the cheese sandwiches. Unlike the peanut butter and jam, the cheese sandwiches are gonna have actual condiments; the recipe calls for fifteen ccs of each, which seems like a lot, but I’m not gonna get cheap with my kids, and I’m not gonna start experimenting with a brand new recipe just yet. Per the recipe, I put the mustard on the top slice and the mayo on the bottom.

Then I’m stuck with an entirely new problem. I’ve got two blocks of cheese, just the right size for the bread, but each one is like four centimeters [3.6 cm] thick. As I’m sitting there staring at the cheese, tryna decide whether to see if the deli slicer wants to work today or I should sharpen up one of my knives and hope it’ll cut all the way through without making a mess, another series of quiet rippling pops sounds from the northwest corner of the building where Derek and Selene are on watch. Before I can even ask, an absolute storm of even quieter pops erupts from the northwest corner where Chyrl is using Teachbot as a turret.

My hands hovering over where my hammers hang from the back of my belt, I whisper, “Chyrl?”

Targets Eliminated!
Reward... 38 Points

Humans Rescued!
Reward... 35 Points

Humans Rescued x100!
Reward... 1 Token

Nothing to worry about at this time, Jackie. A few dozen people were being chased by a small swarm of Antithesis. Selene opened fire per your directives, and when the swarm cleared the intervening buildings Teachbot’s enfilade fire eliminated the remainder of the swarm. Also, your militia eliminated a few individual Antithesis attracted by the gunfire.

I take a few deep, calming breaths. When that’s not enough, I hiss out, “well, sugar honey iced tea. I hope all the folks made it to safety?”

From the sounds, they entered the building just a few moments ago, when I awarded you the points for rescuing them. Technically it was your turrets and militia, but in my professional opinion, rescued is rescued, and you have been the one to organize the defense of the building.

I just shake my head at the thought that I’m the one in charge of the defense, and that getting into the school is considered being ‘safe’. It’s not like the place is an actual shelter. Bulletproof windows with bars on the lower floors, sure, walls thick enough to stop small arms fire, yeah, but that’s just a really old building in a dangerous town, not an actual shelter.

Still, points are points. “Wait, what’s a Token?”

Tokens are a currency similar to Points, used to unlock higher tier Catalogs, which contain more dangerous gear, things best given to more mature Vanguards. They’re given out for actions in some way above and beyond the norm for Vanguards, although there are a few traditional Token rewards, such as destroying a Hive, killing your first high tier Model, or saving your first hundred people.

“Huh. Neat. So I’m guessing I need a Token for my Cooking Implements catalog?”

Not for the Class I Minor Cooking Implements, no.

“What about Class II Cooking Implements?”

That would, in fact, require a Token. Amusingly, as it’s a perpetually underutilized Catalog, which has over time brought the price down, you’re more than halfway to affording both Catalogs now.

“You said Class I Cooking Implements was fifty points, right?”

It is.

“So how much is Class II Cooking Implements then?”

The Class II Minor Cooking Implements Catalog costs one hundred fifty points and one Token. It contains a variety of personal use cooking tools primarily used in molecular gastronomy.

“Molecular what now?”

It’s a fancy way of saying ‘very scientific cooking’. At Class II that includes tools capable of rearranging foods at a molecular level in ways that simple heat or unassisted chemistry cannot.

I snort out a laugh. “Sounds almost like with tools like that I could even make Antithesis tasty.”

Edible, yes. Palatable is another question entirely. But while I’m curious to see you attempt such an endeavor, I cannot overemphasize caution. Antithesis biomatter is, in general, capable of rearranging itself to create new Hives, which then spawn more Antithesis.

“Like, even after somebody’s eaten it?”

That is one theory as to how Model sevens originally evolved.

“Okay. Yeah. Eating Antithesis is the backstory to a Zombie Apocalypse. Eating Antithesis Bad.”

I didn’t say that. Simply that you’d want advanced testing equipment before you tried it, to be sure the biomass had been properly neutralized by your preparation.

“Like I’m gonna have access to that kind of tech.”

Lab Jack It does.

“I… oh. Okay, yeah. Still, no time soon.”

As you wish, Vanguard.

I sigh. “Wish I had a way to cut this cheese without turning it into messy cheese chunks.” I start rummaging through the cabinets, tryna remember where I last stored the cheese grater, thinking that maybe I can grate the cheese and then portion it out onto the sandwiches. I hope maybe the condiments will keep them as sandwiches rather than sad loose cheese piles squished between bread.

Vanguard?

“Yeah, Chyrl?”

You have enough points to open your Class I Minor Cooking Implements Catalog and purchase an Implement to slice that cheese. If you wish to spend them.

I sit there with my palm on my face for a good two minutes, first for forgetting about the fact that I can just buy tools now, then trying not to beat myself up for considering spending points on that when the building still isn’t really completely safe.

What’s wrong, Jackie?

“How many points do I have now?”

One hundred and twenty two points.

I’m no math whiz, but I can add. “That’s enough for two more turrets, isn’t it?”

It is.

“That would make the building a lot safer, wouldn’t it?”

It would.

“Can you deliver the stuff to the guys on the roof?”

I can.

I take a deep breath, let it all out in a rush, then say, “okay. Buy one Foxteeth, one turret, and one silencer for each of the two corners without a turret, please.” I send a quick note to the guys up on the roof, letting them know they’ll be getting turrets and to ask Chyrl if they need help setting them up. “That’s okay, right? You can tell them how to use them so they don’t mess it up?”

Vanguard tools are designed to be user friendly, but yes, I will do my best to assist them. This will reduce your current point total to zero.

“I know. But you gotta spend points to make points, right?”

You’re cutting your margins quite close, however, leaving no room for error.

“Welcome to Camden.”

New Purchase: Mark 1 Omni-Auto-Turret x2
Points reduced to... 22

New Purchase: Foxteeth Model D x2
Points reduced to... 2

New Purchase: Mark 1 Cone of Silence x2
Points reduced to... 0

“Thanks, Chyrl.”

De nada.

I go check the deli slicer. I plug it in, the sparks from the outlet actually a good thing, in that it means we have electricity to the outlets today. They’re on a different circuit than the lights, one that isn’t hooked up to the backup generators. I flip the safety switch, press the button on the handle, and… nothing. I whack it a couple times, try again, but nothing works. I sigh, lean on the counter for a ten count, then head for my knife block.

Jackie?

“Yeah, Chyrl?”

Check the third drawer on the left? I think I saw something in there that might help.

I open the drawer and glance in.

On the right, under the gloves you ought to be wearing while using the deli slicer.

I snort. “Yeah, I’m just a special kind of stupid.” I flip the glove out of the way, and there’s an old fashioned cheese slicer, the kind with a handle and a wire and not much else. “Chyrl, did you…?”

Human perception is something of a conundrum to AI. You are tremendously adept at pattern recognition. Some of you, at least. And yet you can overlook things, especially things which have had little to no impact on you.

I don’t ever remember a cheese slicer in that drawer, but given the other specialty items in here, including the sandwich knife I pulled out, I guess I might have just overlooked it like she said.

“Thanks, Chyrl.”

I set to slicing up the cheese. It’s kinda fiddly work, but between my augs doing the math on how thick each slice needs to be and showing me exact measurements where needed, I manage to turn each block of cheese into a dozen more or less even slices. A bit of folding and placing later, and I’m wrapping the cheese sandwiches up in napkins, stacking them, and slipping them into the Stasis Box.

“Okay,” I say, dusting my hands off, then wiping them on a towel. “Dinner is ready.” I check my augs. “Just in time, too, almost time for the kids to go home.”

Jackie? Chyrl sounds unusually tentative.

“What’s wrong now, Chyrl?”

Nothing. Not really. But… you do realize none of the children are likely to be returning home for the foreseeable future?

I stop dead in my tracks, then slowly lift a hand to my face. As I rub my temples with thumb and pinky, another thing occurs to me, and my frustration spills out of my mouth. “Sugar Honey Iced Tea!”

What’s wrong, Jackie? Everyone is safe inside and all approaches to the building are covered.

“Yeah, but now I got thirty five more mouths to feed, and no points left to buy more ingredients!”