The restaurant had indeed been the one they thought of; the old Maryland-Bound TransCar. It was enormous, all steel and some kind of special glass. It leaned ever so slightly to one side, still levitating off its remanning energy store. Energy in ‘the good ol’ days’ wasn’t energy today–a single power bond Nano-battery store could last a hundred years in its day. The world just couldn’t afford millions of transports like this, as the Feds never came in with more than a few hundred thousand of these units.
They were waiting nearly an hour to get inside the battleship-museum of a restaurant, and their conversation dissipated into silence upon seeing the large crowd made of proud American dining. Camille felt like Rachael again, and got that ever-returning tinge of ‘I have no idea what to say to him.’ She dismissed the feeling though in a moment of fight or flight.