Bennu Station, 391:6
I am unhinged. I waste the days. I have tics. I haven’t been sleeping well. I stare at the shuttle---the one I rented---in its bay when I walk by. Sometimes I go to the hangar when I have nothing to inspect, just to look at it. I imagine I am back navigating the asteroid field, which at the time I found stressful, but which I now look back on fondly.
Rito took me out for lunch. I think he could sense I wasn’t doing well. It’s not like I ever had an affinity for compliance, but being back after spending time alone among the stars has broken me. Or maybe it just revealed what was already broken, and why I came to Bennu in the first place. I wanted adventure. To get away. And I did, but now Bennu is ‘here’.
There is a rattling within me, in my broken part, of all the pieces trying to fit themselves together properly. I know it’s not true, but I think that if I keep moving, they will eventually settle themselves---not into a repaired state, but at least into one of contentment. It hasn’t happened yet.
I didn’t try to tell Rito any of this. I just ate my noodles and agreed with him that it was nice to have some time away. I had never been to Noodle All Type before---that’s just how it translates. I can’t read the language that was above the door, but the symbol shapes were far more aesthetically pleasing than the translation. Rito said I needed a traditional noodle meal to get my spirits up, and he was right. It did lift my mood, even with the mess and noise of the table next to us. Rito didn’t seem to notice, but he grew up eating in similar places.
We started with plain noodles from white flour, which Rito swirled around the communal pot with his tusks. He said we needed to save them for last. Next came a series of dry noodle sticks, all varying colours and flavours, which Rito inspected and sent back if they didn’t meet his standards. The ones we ended up eating were delicious, varying from fruity to spicy to hearty. The noodles we saved until the end had taken on some aspect of all the types we tried during the meal, and were served over frozen cream from some animal that Rito took great joy in deflecting the source of---knowing him it was probably human.
In any case, the final noodles were some of the best dessert I have ever eaten, and would go back just to experience again. Rito said that’s impossible, since every traditional noodle meal is by definition unique, but I’m willing to give it a try.