“Rationally, I know it tastes the same as any other cake, but the colors make it better somehow, don’t they?” He rests his chin on his palm, turning serious again. “When everyone disappeared and we weren’t sure if they would ever come back, I wondered if—when, honestly—we might have to begin rationing goods in some fashion. Given the small population left behind and what was already available in the city, I doubt we were in danger of starving, certainly not anytime soon, but most people I’ve met are used to a less…managed lifestyle. The idea would have frightened them.”

As he so often does when considering something deeply, Pal takes off his glasses and taps them against his chin. “And that’s the trouble, isn’t it? The very idea of controlling resources seems antithetical to this society, and the ones most people here come from.”