The Towering Sky
“Good luck studying. Sounds like you need it,” she simpered and stepped aside.
On the corner of their street, Calliope paused to yank her enormous sweater over her head, revealing a cap-sleeved shirt with appliqué floral embroidery. Then she logged on to her contacts to summon a hover, leaning one hand on a wall for balance as she traded her plain black flats for studded heels. She instantly felt more like herself again.
When she arrived at the address Brice had given her, she was surprised to see that it was a shopping district on the 839th floor. Brice was waiting at the end of the promenade, before an industrial-style storefront that Calliope had never noticed. THE CHOCOLATE SHOP, read the massive block letters above the entrance.
“Thanks so much for coming.” He held open the door for her in a show of unnecessary chivalry.
“If you’d told me we were buying chocolate, I would have come sooner,” Calliope said lightly.
She had been to countless chocolateries, all over the world. The cozy Middle Eastern ones, with colorful throw blankets and spicy Turkish coffee; the Parisian ones, with herringbone china and hot chocolate so thick it was more like pudding. But Brice’s chocolate shop felt startlingly like a science lab. Everything was done in an imposing white and chrome, all the surfaces sterile, with scattered touch screens. Behind the titanium counter Calliope saw test tubes and vials, labeled with things like SUCROSE and EMULSIFIER and VANILLIN.
“Let’s place your order,” Brice said with a lazy smile.
He placed his hand on the counter, but it didn’t call up a menu, as Calliope had expected. Instead, a slot opened on the counter to dispense a single white pill, almost like a breath mint. “Just take that,” he said, placing it in her palm.
“Oh, come on,” Calliope laughed. “Don’t you think I know better than to accept drugs without knowing what they are?”
“It isn’t a drug,” Brice protested as one of the shop’s staff finally appeared from behind the counter, a young man with auburn hair and a stark white lab coat.
“Brice! So good to see you, as always. Sorry for the delay.” His eyes flicked to the tablet on the counter, and he nodded. “I see you’ve already got your colloidosome tablet.”
“My what?” Calliope demanded.
“You put it on your tongue, and it makes a taste profile of your palate,” the lab technician, or whatever he was, informed her. “The tablet itself is harmless, but it’s coated in nanostructures that record the chemical compounds of your individual taste buds and transmit them to our main computer. We’ll use that information to design you the perfect personalized chocolate.”
“I don’t need that. I already know what I like,” Calliope said firmly. “I love caramel, and raspberry, but I hate chocolate covered in salt. I mean, honestly, salt belongs on margaritas and nowhere else. . . .”
She trailed off, realizing that both men were watching her expectantly. What the hell? she figured, and put the tablet on her tongue. It tasted like nothing at all, like air; and before she knew it, it was gone. She smacked her lips, puzzled.
“Interesting. You have less of a sweet tooth than I would have guessed, given that you claim to like caramel,” the chocolatier said, almost to himself, “with incredibly strong quinine receptors. Let’s see . . .” He moved from one beaker to another, humming slightly.
“Claim to like caramel?” Calliope whispered with mock outrage.
“You’ll see,” Brice assured her. “I bet you right now that this is the best chocolate you’ve ever tasted.”
Calliope lifted an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What are the stakes of this bet?”
“Dinner,” he said smoothly. “If it’s your favorite chocolate in the world, you go to dinner with me.”
“And if it isn’t my favorite?”
“Then I’ll go to dinner with you.” He grinned.
“Interesting terms,” Calliope murmured as the dispenser spat out a perfectly round truffle, with no designs of any kind.
“Here,” Brice said, reaching for the chocolate, “let me.”
Calliope started to protest, but before she could say anything, he’d popped the truffle into her mouth.
Her eyes fluttered closed as it melted on her tongue, dissolving all thought. She couldn’t have said what it tasted like exactly; it wasn’t any flavor she recognized. All she knew was that it was utter bliss, as if all her taste buds were firing at once.
“Oh my god.” She opened her eyes, only to see that Brice was right there before her.
“Sounds like you liked it.” Brice turned back to the chocolatier. “Peter, we’re going to need a dozen more of those.”
“I’ll throw in a few of your custom blend too, Brice,” Peter offered, evidently pleased by Calliope’s reaction. “I still have it on file.”
They settled at a table by the window. A moment later, Peter appeared with their tray of chocolates and several glasses of sparkling water.
“I can’t get over these,” Calliope said, reaching for another truffle. “I mean, I transmit some tongue data, and now it supposedly knows me?”
Brice leaned back, studying her. “All it knows is your palate. I, however, would like to get to know you.”
“What do you want to know?”