[ Maybe it's the cultured precision with which he speaks. Whoever Dr Fell was back in his Matrix, he was obviously someone of the upper classes. And how do you talk to the upper classes? Easy enough back home: with servile politeness masking fury and hatred, or sometimes not even bothering with the servile politeness, because every one of them was an exploiter and a parasite and a slaver, too. Here, though? Where she can't just shove him off into the category of hateful arsehole? And where she's definitely not going to treat him with the deference that was drilled into them back in school? She hasn't got any idea. Does she act respectful? Does she act casual and treat him like someone not of any fine breeding, oi mate pass the grub? Who on earth knows?

Her response is maybe not as polite as it ought to be, but...Honestly, who bloody knows how polite they ought to be in these sorts of circumstances. Better to be honest, she thinks. Or more satisfying. Mindless politeness is probably safer. ]

Yeah, well. I think if our mouths were the ones choosing for us, everyone would be stuck back in their Matrixes, wouldn't they. So it's good that our brains are in charge.

[ She picks up a lotus chip, savory with the juices of the not-pork, and nibbles on it. It's ridiculously good. Even this much is ridiculously good. ]

Or - for the most part. That's true for us. I guess there are people who didn't really make the decision with their brains.

[ Yana, one of the other waitresses, laughs - "Or maybe the problem was that they got to try food like this, and we didn't, so we didn't know what we were missing out on." ]