Best in the Galaxy
This short story was inspired by a writing prompt: You’re a food critic eating the best meal of your life. You’re at McDonalds.
I glanced at myself in the mirror of the tiny ship’s lavatory. This would be the last time I saw my own face for a while. I stared mournfully at my narrow, beady eyes, glancing over my wrinkled, ash grey skin. I would miss my antennae and gills the most. I had studied pictures of these humans. They had strange protrusions on their skulls to hear and breathe with as opposed to antennae and gills.
I took a deep breath, clipping the hologram projector to the collar of my black jumpsuit. I pressed the center blue button. A ripple started from my collar, and when I looked up again, I didn’t recognize myself.
I had skin the color of… well, it most resembled a strange, sticky substance I had eaten on Mon Cherille a few years ago. Honey, I think they called it. It was some form of animal product, but I had forgotten the details of its creation. The oddest part of the skin was that it was so smooth. No wrinkles whatsoever, except at the joints.
My gills had disappeared behind that wrinkle-less skin on my neck. Now there was a pointed protrusion from my face with two holes. It looked as if there were two tiny caves rising from my face. There were also two more holes on the side of my head, with flaps surrounding them, but not covering them. Stars, how did these creatures survive with all of these unprotected orifices?
My eyes were huge. I had taken some strange disguises over the course of my career, but these were by far the largest eyes. They were white, with a ring of green surrounding another circle of black in the center. These did at least have a protective skin covering, but the flaps stayed open unless I blinked. I shook my head. Useless.
Then there was hair. It was everywhere. Once again, this wasn’t the first mammal disguise I had taken, but the hair. It covered my entire skull except for my face, cascading down over my shoulders to scrub the middle of my back. It was thick and black. Then there was more hair on the ridge-bone above my eyes, and then more hair fringing my eyes. I frowned, watching the new face make facial expression. At least the skin moved like mine did. I smiled. The mouth moved exactly how mine would usually. I nodded, satisfied. At least something was normal.
The clothes were simple. A long-sleeved green shirt and tight blue pants, and black boots.
If someone were to touch me, they would feel my wrinkly skin or synth-leather jumpsuit, but to the eye, my disguise appeared completely real. I pressed the disguise, pleased when the illusion held. Once I had been given a faulty projector and it had flickered off in the middle of a restaurant on a restricted world. The damage control and lawsuit had taken ages. Not to mention the paperwork.
I stepped out of the lavatory into the small chamber with an unmanned cockpit at the front and a bunk at the back. I opened the pack I had been given by the InterGalactic News. I hadn’t opened it except to read the information on the planet I was going to before doing my own research. “Earth” the inhabitants called it. A very unoriginal name. I had been to at least 6 other planets named “Earth” by their peoples, or the linguistic equivalent.
The translator implant in my antennae and vocal cords had been programmed to speak their language. Or the dialect of the region I was entering.
IGN was very thorough, this time, it appeared. I was given proper forms of currency, identification, and a name: Emily Smith. I was disguised, properly, as a female of the species. It was enough to make them much more careful now. They would not risk their best food critic quitting on them. My column had a several billion readership on at least 15 worlds. Among worlds where most nutrients were gained through flavorless capsules or supplements, descriptions on the food of backwater worlds were as exotic as it got. IGN well knew I was the best in the business. My tripled training in both culinary, journalism, and cultural development meant I knew what I was writing about, how to write about it, and how to research it without causing an intergalactic incident. I was certified to enter protected worlds and cultures. The odds of finding someone to replace me were almost impossible.
I was only on assignment for one rotation. Earth was completely cut off from all other forms of life besides those residing on their own world. As a protected world, IGN could only secure me a visa for one rotation of their planet. I was well trained in the routine. I had studied the culture extensively, knew what to say and not to say, what to do and not to do.
I grinned, bouncing on my toes in anticipation. My auto-piloted ship would cloak and land in about two minutes. This was always the fun bit. I would step out of the ship on a new world and just walk. I would walk until I found someone selling food. I would take pictures of the area, eat a meal, and write about it. Then I would go home, my article would be published, and I’d get paid by the reader. Then I’d fight for another visa for another world farther out and start all over again.
My ship was landing. A green light went off. At the side of the ship, I pulled a lever to open the door. I leaped out, blinking in the light of the sun.
Earth had a perfectly safe atmosphere for me, so I need no breathing apparatus. There was some form of vegetation under my feet, covering a red-brown soil. I glanced up at the sky. I stifled a gasp. It was blue. A gorgeous, sapphire blue, with wisps of pure white gas floating across it. I had read about it in my research, but to see it…it was incredible. I snatched my bag from inside the ship, pulling out my camera. I snapped a few pictures. The camera was disguised like my appearance to appear like Earthen technology. Another benefit of working at the largest written news provider in the galaxy.
I closed the door to my ship, watching it cloak itself. No one could see it, but I had a homing beacon stowed in my bag that would lead me back to it. I picked a direction and started to walk.
The ship had been programmed to land within walking distance of a populated area. I knew where I went, I would eventually find people. And people meant food.
It wasn’t long before I found a road. In the distance, I could see buildings. I grinned to myself, my pace increasing in speed.
When I reached the town, I immediately pulled out my camera. I took pictures of the buildings, the people, and the strange wheeled modes of transportation they steered. Automobiles, my research had called them. I received a few strange looks as I wandered up and down the street, taking photos. I ignored them.
A few hundred images later, I decided to find somewhere that sold food. One place had caught my eye early on. It had a bright yellow sign shaped like an Earthen alphabet letter: two curves upside down, touching on another.
There were people eating at a table outside. I tried to subtly take a picture of them. They ate with their hands and drank something from a closed disposable container, sucking from a pipe that extended from the top of it. I smirked to myself.
I walked into the restaurant, a look of wonder crossing my face. Tables with chairs or benches lined the inside. A counter was at the back of the store with a glass divider. The chefs were busy behind the counter. Steam filled the kitchen of the restaurant, which was open for the customers to see. I smiled. A market style restaurant. This would be interesting.
There was a metal dispenser where people were filling those disposable containers with colored liquids. Self-serve, I noted inwardly.
I walked up to the counter, glancing up at the colored signs suspended above it. One was plasma with moving pictures.
“Welcome to McDonald’s, what can I get you?” one of the chefs, a female, dressed in a uniform of black pants and a collared shirt, asked. I subtly pressed the recorder in my pocket. It would pick up the conversation for me to listen back to for reference.
“What would you recommend?” I asked the chef. She gave me a strange look.
“Umm… I don’t know. It’s McDonalds.”
“I know, but I’ve never been here before,” I explained. Her eyes widened with skepticism.
“You’ve never been to McDonalds?”
“No. What is your most popular item?”
“Uhhh… I mean a BigMac, I guess.”
“Okay, I’ll take one of those. Could you describe it to me?”
The chef gave me another strange look. “It’s a burger. Come on, you’ve got to know what a burger is.”
“Sorry, I’m afraid I don’t,” I apologized with a smile. Her mouth dropped open slightly.
“Sheilah! This chick’s never had a burger!” She called to another chef behind her.
“What? How…” The woman, Sheliah, looked at me in disbelief. “Are you an immigrant?”
“You could say that.”
“How long have you been in America?”
“Um… not very long at all.”
“But you speak perfect English!” The first chef interjected.
“Oh. Yes, I… studied it before,” I made an excuse.
“Wow. That’s incredible.” Sheilah gave me an appraising glance. “Okay, whatever you want, on the house.”
“On the house?” I frowned in confusion.
“Free. You don’t have to pay for it,” Sheilah explained.
“Oh. Oh wow. Thank you.” I grinned.
“Okay, get her a Big Mac, large fries, large drink, and… how about ice cream? Have you ever had that?”
“No, I haven’t, sorry.” I smiled sheepishly.
“My gosh, where are you from?”
“Um, really far away.” I laughed nervously. The two chefs gave each other a look before turning back to me.
“Okay, well ice cream is a dessert. It’s… milk. Frozen milk, it’s sweet. You do know what milk is?”
That I did know. Milk was common in the galaxy. “Yes.”
“Okay, so add a chocolate ice cream cone.”
“I’m sorry to be a bother, but could you explain to me what all of that is?” I asked politely.
“A Big Mac is a burger. A sandwich. Bread, with beef patties and cheese and lettuce, onions, and pickles. You’re not allergic to anything are, you?”
“No.” This was also true. My species had one of the hardiest immune systems in the galaxy. That, combined with an impressive vaccination record, meant nothing on Earth could harm me biologically.
“Good. Okay, and fries are fried potatoes. As far as drinks, choose whatever you want. You’ll get the idea.”
“Okay, thank you.” The two chefs smiled at me. The first one — I glanced at her name tag: Julie — gave me a piece of paper.
“Your number’s 54. When I call it out, your food’s ready.”
“Oh. How efficient. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Julie gave me a large disposable container. I took it with a smile. I glanced back at the long line of waiting customers that had gathered. A few shot me annoyed glances.
I moved to the metal liquid dispenser. Mimicking the movements I saw other customers make, I pressed the disposable container against a metal handle. A dark brown liquid shot from the dispenser, filling my cup. It was bubbly, fizzing up almost to overflow. I pulled away the cup hurriedly. The bubbles slowly disappeared, leaving only half the cup filled. I almost laughed. Disappearing drinks. What a world. Probably a way of cheating people out of their money.
I put a lid on the container and added one of the pipes, sucking the drink through it. It burned my tongue ever so slightly, but the taste was sweet. It reminded me of the spice cakes I had had on my last assignment, but in drink form. I rolled the liquid around on my tongue before swallowing.
I took out my camera, snapping a few pictures of the restaurant. I tried to zoom in on the kitchen and get a few images. One was of a male chef tossing a basket of what looked like sticks before setting it down in what must have been some kind of oil or cooking liquid.
“Number 54!” I hurriedly went up to the counter, slipping my camera back into my pocket. The chef, or perhaps she was just a waitress, gave me a small smile as I took the tray. Cafeteria style apparently. Everything was wrapped in a thin paper as if to protect it.
I moved to sit at one of the tables and pulled out my camera to take more pictures. There were the strange golden sticks in a paper envelope. I popped one into my mouth. It was hot, but good. The outside was crispy while the inside was soft. There was a slight taste of oil, while the entire thing was covered in salt. I smiled in appreciation. These must be “fries.” Fried food was rather common throughout the galaxy, but this was different. These had been fully immersed in the hot oil. Humans must have very high metabolism to be able to regularly consume foods cooked in such a manner without damaging their health.
Then there was what appeared to be brown cream swirled inside a cup with strange designs carved into it. I touched my finger to it. It was cold. Ice cream. I glanced around, spying a young Human child with one of the treats. He licked away the cream before biting into the cup. I mimicked him. The cream was soft, but so cold it almost hurt. It was incredibly sweet. I bit the edge of the cup. It was almost like bread, but harder, flakier. I kept eating the treat until I finished it, ignoring the fact that it was supposed to be a dessert and for after the meal.
Finally, I opened the paper wrapped around the ‘Big Mac’.’ It appeared to be several different layers on top of each other. I took each apart as much as I could, taking more pictures. First was a soft bread. Then what appeared to be some form of meat covered with a yellow substance that was not quite a jelly but not quite a sauce either. Then there was two forms of vegetation. One, a cold green-white leaf; the other, white crunchy rings with a spicy scent. Then there were round green things with seeds in the middle that were completely unrecognizable. They were slimy to the touch. Then came another piece of bread, smeared with red and yellow sauce. Then another piece of bread, and the layers started all over again. Finally, the top layer was a fatter piece of bread with what appeared to be seeds baked on the top.
I watched a few of the other customers eating similar meals. They picked the entire thing up with their hands, which in my opinion was unsanitary, and bit into it. I picked up my ‘Big Mac’, careful that all the layers stayed in place. I bit into it…
I had had a lot of good food over the years. I had had a lot of bad food. I had had a lot of very weird food. But this…this was unlike anything I had ever tasted. It had been years since I had tasted something that my well-traveled palette could call “great”. But this… this was by far one of the best things I had ever eaten.
The bread was soft and held a sweet taste. The meat was salty and juicy, a grilled char taste to its edge. The strange goop on top of the meat I think I liked best. It was salty, but with a creamy texture to it. The vegetables were crisp and spicy, with a watery aftertaste. They crunched deliciously under my teeth. The slimy round things were juicy, with a savory-sour tang, and the red and yellow sauce was sweet. All together… it was most definitely the best meal I had ever had in my life.
I stopped analyzing the taste and cooking techniques, content to devour the ‘burger.’ When I was done, I went back to the line.
“Back for more?” Julie asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, please,” I said emphatically. “I’ll pay this time.”
“That good, huh?”
“Oh trust me. The best in the galaxy.”
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