March: A Tale of Salmon and Swedes (The Glothic Tales Book 4) by Derek Haines

father tried to explain to me about their value of pieces of paper, but I didn’t understand. I did a little research before my departure, but there was little mention of it in THE.’
    ‘Oh THE! Is The History of Earth still available? I used to send updates for it, but let me think now; it must be over twenty years since I sent my last one. Yes, now I recall. It was an update about a pretty little princess here, who had the misfortune to die quite young. It was such a tragedy, and the end of a lovely fairy tale story. Well, anyway, shortly after that, I received a message from the editor saying that due to a lack of readership, and any interest in Earth, that it would only be updated on a fifty-year cycle. A pity though, because I quite liked writing those little updates.’
    ‘These are lovely sandwiches. What are they?’
    ‘Cucumber.’
    ‘They’re nice. Um, have you ever heard of Abba?’
    ‘Of course I have.’
    *****
    Oxford Street was, as it always is on a Saturday morning – full of throngs of shoppers filling the sidewalks on either side of the road. March struggled against the oncoming, and passing crowds, while at the same time trying to guide his umbrella between, over and under the oncoming, and passing umbrellas that hindered his progress. As he had never experienced anything that resembled a crowd on Gloth, nor used such an odd tool as an umbrella, it was quite a first morning welcome to Earth reality for him. He tried to copy Trys, as she seemed to meld herself, and her umbrella, into, and between the crowds of scurrying people and hardly missed her step as she floated between the crush of never ending bodies, and brollies.
    ‘We can stop for a coffee and cake if you like.’
    ‘Um, yes, ok,’ he replied, happy to grasp the opportunity of a respite from the freezing cold rain and torrential crowds.
    Even though Trys had told him, over their light breakfast of bacon, scrambled eggs, pork sausages, black pudding and baked beans that Nike runners, Levi’s 501, a Lacoste rugby shirt and a leather jacket from Milan were seen as extremely fashionable in London, March still felt very uncomfortable and underdressed, as he followed her into Starbucks. He suffered pangs for the civility of Gloth as Trys readied to order at a crowded counter after having joined a long queue. The concept of waiting in line to be served was totally foreign and insulting to him, yet he held his tongue.
    He watched with intense interest though, as in turn, the people in the queue in front of them exchanged small pieces of coloured paper for their coffees and assorted cakes and treats and then very oddly, the young woman, who had taken their pieces of coloured paper from them, in exchange for the coffee he presumed, then handed them an assortment of small round shiny pieces of metal. March was very confused by this, as in his thinking, the small pieces of gold and silver metal looked extremely precious, and clearly of much greater value than either the pieces of paper or the coffee and cakes.
    As he was trying to calculate the logic of this repeated process, he then noticed a man handing the young woman a thin rectangular piece of silver plastic, which she inserted into a small device, and then gave the man his coffee, and handed back his plastic card. She smiled at him, and said thank you, but she didn’t give him any gold and silver. He was about to ask Trys about this mystery, but they were now at the counter, and Trys asked the young woman for two cappuccinos.
    ‘Is a cappuccino ok with you?’ she asked him, almost as an afterthought.
    ‘Um, yes, fine,’ March replied without thinking, or knowing what a cappuccino was, as he was far more interested in watching Trys take a coloured piece of paper from her purse, and hand it to the young woman.
    ‘That’ll be five pounds sixty, please,’ the young woman said, and Trys handed over her piece of coloured paper. The young woman then handed Trys some pieces of shining metal