When Nolan and his crew walked out onto the mess hall carrying the food trays, a hush came over the attendees. Somewhat surprised, chef and assistants silently laid out the food on the table with well-practiced efficiency.
Tough crowd this evening, thought Nolan. He wasn't expecting a standing ovation, but usually Earth clients were more animated than this lot. Not that he cared. There was only one person in this room that he wanted to impress, and that was Katya Zorraliv, the greatest mech superstar in the solar system.
For Katya to be here on Mars working on her latest project, and in the studio where he happened to be the chef, was a dream come true for Nolan. In his apprenticeship days, he had interacted with her cognitive flicks using a rudimentary braincap. Amazingly, she didn't look a day older, still full of glamour, as if the passage of time did not have any effect on her.
Once the tables were prepared, he proceeded to welcome his distinguished guests, which consisted of an assortment of directors, producers, writers, artists, actors, film crews, and of course, the ever lovely Katya.
Nolan listed and briefly described each dish, consisting of "tender zebra flank, bbq ostrich wings, and braised mammoth rib in mushroom sauce. All plant and mineral based. Cultured right here on Mars. I hope you enjoy!"
The attendees were silent for a moment, then at last someone spoke up.
"I think it looks delicious!" said one of the producers. "We thank you, chef, and we're happy to be here."
But all eyes were on Katya, who had not said word. She sat up straight, then placing her napkin on the table, she stood up, excused herself, and withdrew from the table.
"Did I say something wrong?" Nolan asked, looking after the departing star.
Somebody laughed. "No mate, you did right! This meat looks delicious! Haha! Ain't that right fellows?"
They raised their glasses and cheered. In spite of the awkward start to the meal, soon the guests began to enjoy themselves.
Nolan retired to the kitchen.
As he was preparing dessert, one man came up to him and introduced himself as Marco Pusch, Katya's Lifestyle Engineer.
"I suppose you didn't read the food stipulations in the contract?" he said to Nolan.
"Of course, I read them," Nolan said. "I didn't add any real meat. We don't have the luxury on the red planet. It's all based on herbs, plants, and vegetables. There are a few fatty acids and cellular proteins for flavour and consistency, but it's all plant based, except for the mushrooms and algae."
"That's not the point," Marco said with a sigh, "Katya doesn't even like the sight of meat. She detests it!"
"As I said, it was all plant based."
"It doesn't matter!"
"Alright then. I'll keep that in mind, and I'll apologize next time I see her."
Marco turned and left the kitchen without saying another word.
After dinner, once all the guests had retired for the evening, Nolan was prepping the kitchen for the following day when he happened to look out the window. Outside, as if from a dream, Katya walked across the Martian terrain with her mech in tow. The machine followed her like a well-trained puppy.
She raised her arm like a ballerina, and as if on command, the mech projected images of an aurora in the sky. She ran a few meters, then stopped suddenly, and with a burst of steam from her aero-boosters, leapt high into the atmosphere with a twirl, ascending and transforming into a rose as she reached the zenith of her trajectory then fell back to the ground in a cloud of red dust.
Nolan was spellbound and barely registered that one of his assistants was trying to get his attention.
"Chef!" Rodriguez said clearing his throat. "We need to review the printing queue for tomorrow."
"Yes, of course. I'll join you in a moment," Nolan said absentmindedly.
"Sure thing, Chef," said the young assistant and left Nolan to his thoughts.
When Nolan turned back to the window, he saw that Katya and her mech were already gone.
Towards the end of his shift, as he was turning off the lights, the silhouette of a woman appeared in the kitchen doorway.
"Hello, Chef" she said in a raspy voice. "I wanted to apologize for my childish outburst earlier."
"Ms. Zorraliv!" he said, recognizing her infamous accent.
"Call me, Katya."
"It's such an honour to meet you. There's no need to apologize. If anything, I should be the one apologizing for not reading the details of the contract."
Katya stepped forward into the embracing darkness of the kitchen. The edges of her spacesuit glowed purple and cast a violet light on her cheekbones.
"It is curious," she said, "that a Martian chef renown for his meticulously crafted meals would miss such details."
He felt a pang in his chest when she called him a 'renown' chef.
"It was an unprofessional oversight," he admitted with a short bow. "Rest assured that I will adapt the meal plan accordingly."
"Why do you like meat so much?" she asked him.
Was it a question or accusation?
"It's purely vegetarian," he said with his hand on his heart. "We don't even engineer stem cells from animal tissue."
"But you are like an animal," she said accusatorily. "Grr! Always hungry for flesh."
"I'm just a chef who caters to my clients' needs, and you can be sure that it won't happen again."
"Won't it?" said Katya, reaching for the light switch.
In her cybernetic suit, she was an imposing figure in spite of her delicate feminine curves.
"Show me what it's like to be a hungry creature," she said, her feline eyes locked on his.
He was taken aback and for a moment didn't know what to say.
"I'll prepare you a dish right away," he stammered.
He handed her a drink, then under her scrutiny, busied himself in the kitchen, like a multi-armed machine reaching for herbs, spices, vegetables, oils, and all the gear he needed to work his food alchemy.
The star of the show was his R3D printer, capable of creating plant and mineral-based 3D replicas of almost any kind of meat, including seafood.
"Early colonizers didn't quickly adopt the food generators, but dehydrated meals got old very quickly," he said while mixing ingredients. "The farms didn't produce enough fruits and vegetables to accommodate the growing population- you could forget about meat- so soon enough the Martian citizens were singing the praises of printed meals."
With a few finger taps, he programmed the machine to print beef, which he knew would taste and feel virtually the same as, if no better than, the real thing.
"Food generators were not just a means of sustenance for Martians," he said as the meat sizzled, "but freedom from the food monopoly of Earth's governments and corporations."
Finally, with a few flourishes, he garnished the meal with rosemary sprigs, and raising one arm in grand fashion, he presented the dish to Katya.
"Kobe ribeye steak," he announced formally, "an opulent slab of marbled perfection."
She smiled with both eyebrows raised in amusement.
"Seared to a caramelized crust in tamarind sauce," he continued, "with organic fat that melts like a whispered secret on your tongue."
"Ooh, sounds very sensual," she said with a clap.
Katya took the fork and knife then offered them to him.
"Care to do me the honours?"
He bowed ceremoniously and took the utensils. Taking a slice of the steak, he inserted the fork until juices began to run down the sides of the meat, then dipping it in the tamarind sauce, he raised the morsel to Katya's lips.
She eyed it tentatively from side to side, then looking up at him with her wide Bette Davis eyes, she took what he offered.
She sat back, closed her eyes, and began to chew slowly.
Her cheeks flushed with a rush of crimson. Her chiseled jawline moving faster as she savored the treat.
"Well," he said, "what does the great Katya Zorraliv thinks of Martian beef?"
She pressed the fingers of her right hand together and kissed their tips, "bravo, chef, magnifico!"
He took another piece, bathed it in sauce, and offered it to her.
She ate with gusto, but then she stopped for a moment, and a single tear ran down her cheek.
"My grandfather died in the Bovine wars after the invasion of Sweden," she said. "He was the world to me because I never knew my real father. Since his death, I haven't touched any meat."
"I'm truly sorry," Nolan said.
She wiped her tears with a napkin then laughed a little.
"I guess now you can tell your friends all about the time you turned Katya Zorraliv into a ravenous meat-eater. Isn't that what you wanted?"
"Nobody would believe me, and I wouldn't dare."
"I suppose not," she said, hiding a smile behind her glass. "You are a true gentleman, Nolan. Now, give me another bite because I'm hungry."
Of course nobody would believe his story. Whatever happened between the Martian chef and the Earthly beauty would remain just rumour and innuendo for the gossip columns. So, he didn't worry about what was to come, whether he was accused of violating another contractual rule or polluting the beautiful superstar with his synthetic alchemy- he was here now, in this delicious moment, leaning towards Katya's luscious lips.
Thank you for reading my story that was inspired by (but not formally submitted to) The Ink Well Fiction Prompt #169: Dish.
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