Chapter 39 - Chapter Thirty Nine

Maine leaned back on the crate outside the stall, chewing through a real burger stacked with tomato, lettuce, onion, and grease that dripped down his wrist, watching across the street where an Arasaka-branded kiosk was handing out "genuine real food experience" trays in neat plastic boxes with glowing seals, the Corpo rep in a pressed jacket waving customers over with a voice that promised "safety-certified organic nutrition" while the crew sat surrounded by paper plates, grease-stained napkins, and bottles of Kevin's soda that fizzed harder than any vending machine could fake, and the contrast was enough to make Rebecca choke on her laugh as she pointed with a fry, "Look at that—plastic salad, three times the price, and they call it freedom food," Pilar groaning through a mouthful of onion rings, "Some chooms are dumb enough to buy it, bet they even believe it's safer than what we're eating," and Dorio shaking her head, "Safer my ass, this stall's got fresh meat on the grill and the Corpo box tastes like lab paper," while Kiwi, as always calm and flat, muttered that the Corpo boxes were heat-treated, nutrient balanced, legally guaranteed, "and still worse than street trash," which got a round of chuckles because nobody disagreed. David leaned forward, soda bottle cool in his hand, and said it plain, "They can brand it however they want, doesn't change the taste," and Lucy sitting next to him with her quiet smirk added, "Or the price," both of them watching as a family stepped up to the Corpo kiosk, hesitated at the price board, then turned away toward the stalls instead, and Rebecca lifted her bottle in salute, "Smart move," before guzzling the last of the orange-pear batch. Maine finished his burger slow, wiping his hands, and said what they all knew, "Corpos don't lose easy, if they're selling this now it means they're scared, and when they're scared they get dangerous," which put a short shadow over the laughter, but it didn't last long because the grill hissed as another batch of patties hit the plate, and the smell rolled out into the street, covering whatever Corpo ad was running on the nearest screen. Across the city Gloria sat in the courtyard outside the clinic with Buddy curled against her legs, his new collar loose enough to slide a finger under, a paper plate balanced on her lap with half a burger left, real meat layered with greens that dripped juice when she bit down, and a bottle of soda sweating on the table beside her, the fizz sharp against her tongue when she drank between bites; she had grown up on vending meals and microwave packs like everyone else, and even after the revival started she had expected the taste to be overhyped, some nomad trick that wouldn't last, but now with every chew she knew this was different, this was life filling her stomach instead of just fuel keeping her upright, and it was something she wanted for David too, something she wanted to keep as normal rather than rare. Around her the courtyard was filled with other patients and visitors doing the same thing—nurses on break with paper bowls of stew, a pair of guards splitting a roasted fish with chopsticks, an old woman carefully feeding her grandson small spoonfuls of mashed potatoes and carrots, and the sound wasn't the usual hum of vending machines but the quiet chatter of people tasting real food and actually talking about it, swapping tips like neighbors, asking where to find apples, which stall had the best bread, who bottled the soda with the pine flavor, and Gloria listened while Buddy dozed, ears twitching, and thought that maybe this was what community was supposed to look like, not just people surviving in their corners but sharing something better together. She thought about the flyer still folded in her bag, the caravan leaving for the new city, and as she tore off a small piece of meat and fed it to Buddy she weighed the thought again: if this was possible here, what could it be like there, and for the first time in a long time the idea didn't feel impossible, it felt close, like she could stand up tomorrow, pack her bag, call the number, and start over somewhere that looked like the pictures she had seen, and when David arrived later she would ask him again what he thought about it, not to pressure him but because she needed to know if he felt the same pull she did, and until then she finished the burger, sipped the soda, and let herself smile because even in Night City moments like this could exist.