The Best Dim Sum Is In The Chinatown On Level 87

Illustration for article titled The Best Dim Sum Is In The Chinatown On Level 87

But Holly preferred to visit the Sunrise Scroll, the neighborhood's literary arts curator. The aged proprietress always recommended books Holly hated, but the woman was also always up for a debate.

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Concept art by Libiao.

China Town [molybdenumgp03 on deviantART via r/ImaginaryCityscapes]

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Corpore Metal

The tram came to a stop at Pontius and 1552nd street, in the favored colors of Chinatown Arc, red and gold.

"Look, you don't want Baja style so it's either this, all the Ethiopian places across town or Little Italy," Timothy said after we left the hospital. He never let anyone call him "Timmy," not even his partner.

The reconstructive surgery after the gunshot wound had to replace the whole of the lower part of my face, the nose and olfactory bulbs, the jaw, the larynx, everything. So I was taking my new nose and tongue out for a spin. Hospital food was of no help on this front so, how better than to take them to a classy Cantonese joint that doesn't dumb it down for the gwailo? It was Timothy's idea, not that he ever knew the taste of Chinese or any other kind of food. I guess he just went with a restaurant that was highly rated.

Timothy had a habit of stepping into or out of any location before me, out of the tram, into the restaurant, always first. I used to resent it. But now, after the ten double zip, honestly, it was reassuring. He was built that way.

I'd read that decades ago robot cops were made to look more human but, oddly, this didn't go over very well with the public and it tended to trigger disassociative disorders in the artificial minds of the robots themselves so, they stopped doing that. Timothy was an android with five fingered hands and a head and legs like humans but that was were the resemblance stopped. He was obviously composed of metal and plastic.

Anyway, we were off duty for now. Or at least I was. I don't think Timothy is ever really off-duty.

"So what you are gonna do as I eat?"

You could hear the smile in his voice, yes, his voice was that good, "Talk to you and browse the Net, like I always do at idle moments."

His brain allowed for an subjective frame rate about ten to a hundred times faster than human, but this usually required the diversion of energy for greater cooling. He saved it for emergencies, like shootouts.

The waiter brought me a menu and, as a courtesy—it was a robot friendly place here!—some empty smart paper for Timothy.

The garlic in the siu mei and stir fry? Exquisite!