Free Forager by Peter R. Stone

a step and took the beautiful lunchbox, trying not to stammer. "This is wonderful. Thank you, Nanako."
    Sergeant King chose that moment to interrupt, casting a questioning glance at Nanako and Councillor Okada. "Okay boys, the day's not getting any younger. Saddle up and move out!"
    He could have at least greeted them, the unsociable sod.
    We clambered into the truck and as Michal drove, Nanako walked to the gate with Councillor Okada. She stood there quietly, watching us drive off. I flashed her a warm smile and waved, clutching her unexpected gift with my other hand. She bowed, and held it until we were out of sight.
    As we headed for the town gates, I wondered what had prompted her to give me such a gift. Did she feel indebted to me for saving her life yesterday? If that was the case, I had to tell her that she didn't owe me anything. It had been my honour to save her from the Skel.
     
    It took us multiple stops and almost the whole morning to find a source of non-corrosive metals to strip out. There was no way we were gonna return to the Victoria Street apartments, and I couldn’t risk using my flash sonar again. We eventually found a virtual gold mine in a street of ransacked one-story houses. They still had their external gas hot water systems.
    The Custodians gave the work site a quick once over when we arrived and then retired to the Bushmaster, where one of them operated the roof mounted machine gun at all times.
     
    After we had removed and disassembled several hot water systems to cannibalise the parts we wanted, my watch chimed one o’clock.
    My workmates and I ripped off our gloves, wiped our hands clean with antibacterial hand wipes, and climbed onto the truck’s bonnet or roof to eat, just as we did every day.
    Sitting cross-legged on the bonnet, I carefully removed the handkerchief from the lacquered lunchbox, aware that my workmates looked on with baited breath. I lifted the lid and gasped. The partitioned tray was filled with a whole host of painstakingly prepared delicacies, the likes of which I had never seen. There were tomato slices with sculptured rabbit ears, slices of carrot carved into flowers, and marinated chicken pieces. There were slices of bread curled about beans, tendrils of fried fish, and even rolls of scrambled egg. Beneath this tray was another, this one filled with fruits and vegetables, each imaginatively presented.
    “Well, do we share?” I asked.
    “Get real,” Michal laughed, “She made it for you, Ethan. We ain’t gonna touch it.”
    "Hey, speak for yourself," Shorty complained.
    "Yeah, I think I'd sign up for some of that," David agreed.
    Michal glared at the others and they quickly backed down.
    “I think she likes you.” Shorty ribbed me with a knowing smile.
    “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    “Well, come on, if you ain't gonna share it, taste it and tell us what it's like,” David demanded impatiently.
    And so began the most delightful culinary experience of my life. “It tastes even better than it looks!” I exclaimed with my mouth full.
    As I ate, I imagined a young, petite Japanese girl getting up early, buying fresh food from the market, and slaving away in her kitchen as she prepared the meal. And this is the bit that blew me away – she did it for me! I also thought of her walking all the way to the Recycling-Works to deliver it by hand. She must have asked someone where I worked, including when I started my shift. I was deeply moved by her gesture – and with the strict segregation of males and females in our society, I wondered if this was the first time something like this had happened in Newhome.
    Shorty said Nanako liked me, but how could that be possible when we had just met and spoken only a few words to each other?
    Having consumed the obento to the very last morsel, I packed up the lunchbox and made mental plans to drop it off at North End's gates this evening with instructions to return it. Nanako had clearly brought it with her from Hamamachi and