Free Platform by Michel Houellebecq Page A

glanced nervously from side to side. At one point I saw a big bearded guy coming out of the kitchens and shouting angrily at the waiters. This had to be none other than the famous Bertrand Le Moal. To my mind, his greatest achievement so far was to have taught the Karens the recipe for gratin dauphinois. It was delicious, and the roast pork was perfectly done, crisp but tender. "All we're missing is a drop of wine," René said sadly. Josiane pursed her lips scornfully. One didn't need to ask what she thought about French tourists who couldn't leave the country without their drop of wine. A little awkwardly, Valérie came to Rene's defense. With Thai food, she said, you never felt the need; but right now, a little wine would be rather appropriate. In any case, she herself only drank water.
    "If you go abroad," Josiane barked, "it is in order to eat the local food and to observe local customs! If not, you might as well stay at home."
    "I agree!" shouted Robert. She paused, cut off in midflow, and looked at him hatefully.
    "Sometimes I find it a bit too spicy," confessed Josette timidly, 'it doesn't seem to bother you," she said, addressing me, probably to ease the tension.
    "No, no, I love it. The spicier it is, the better I like it. Even in Paris I eat Chinese all the time," I hastily responded. And so the conversation was able to move on to Chinese restaurants, which had multiplied in Paris just recently. Valérie liked to have lunch in them; they were very reasonable, much better than eating fast food, and probably much healthier too. Josiane had nothing to say on the subject; she had a staff cafeteria. As for Robert, he probably thought the subject was beneath him. In short, everything proceeded more or less peacefully until dessert.

    It all came to a head over the sticky rice. It was a light golden color, flavored with cinnamon —I think the recipe was original. Taking the bull by the horns, Josiane decided to tackle the question of "sex tourism" head on. For her, it was absolutely disgusting, there was no other word for it. It was a scandal that the Thai government tolerated such things. The international community had to do something. Robert listened to her with a half smile that I didn't think boded well. It was scandalous, but it was hardly surprising, and it was obvious that most of these places (brothels, that was the only word for them) were owned by generals: that told you what kind of protection they had.
    "Hey, watch it, I'm a general," interrupted Robert. She was speechless; her lower jaw dropped miserably. "No, no, I'm only joking," he said with a slight grin. "I've never even been in the army."
    She did not find this funny in the least. She took a moment to pull herself together, then launched herself back into the fray with renewed energy.
    "It's absolutely shameful that fat assholes can just come over here and take advantage of these girls' poverty with impunity. Of course you know they all come from the north and the northeast, the poorest regions of the whole country."
    "Not all of them," he objected. "Some of them are from Bangkok."
    "It's sexual slavery!" screamed Josiane, who hadn't heard. "There's no other way to describe it!"
    I yawned a little. She shot me a black look, but went on, calling on the others to give their verdict: "Don't you think it's disgraceful that any fat old asshole can come over here and have it off with these kids for next to nothing?"
    "It's hardly next to nothing," I protested modestly. "I paid three thousand baht, which is about what you'd pay in France." Valérie turned and looked at me, surprised.
    "You paid a bit much," observed Robert. "Still, if the girl was worth it . . ."
    Josiane's whole body was trembling; she was starting to unsettle me a little. "Well!" she shrieked in a very shrill voice. "It makes me sick, that any fat pig can pay to shove his cock into a child!"
    "Nobody's forcing you to come with me, madam," Robert replied calmly.
    She got up,