Sable sauntered into the Burger Lord. It was exactly like every other Burger Lord in America. [But not like every other Burger Lord across the world. German Burger Lords, for example, sold lager instead of root beer, while English Burger Lords managed to take any American fast food virtues (the speed with which your food was delivered, for example) and carefully remove them; your food arrived after half an hour, at room temperature, and it was only because of the strip of warm lettuce between them that you could distinguish the burger from the bun. The Burger Lord pathfinder salesmen had been shot twenty-five minutes after setting foot in France.] McLordy the Clown danced in the Kiddie Korner. The serving staff had identical gleaming smiles that never reached their eyes.[…]
Sable went up to the counter.
“Hello-my-name-is-Marie,” said the girl behind the counter. “How-can-I-help-you?”
“A double blaster thunder biggun, extra fries, hold the mustard,” he said.
“Anything-to-drink?”
“A special thick whippy chocobanana shake.”
She pressed the little pictogram squares on her till. (Literacy was no longer a requirement for employment in these restaurants. Smiling was.)
1·3 hours ago