After twenty minutes of watching people walk by with their magic rectangles, I got restless. Riley was busy with other customers, the coffee was excellent but finite, and I had two hours to kill.
Two hours is nothing when you're immortal, but somehow it feels like forever when you're sitting still in an unfamiliar place.
Through the window, I could see more of the town stretching out beyond the immediate street. Colorful buildings, more of those mysterious signs, and people moving with purpose toward destinations I couldn't identify. The bored immortal in me was desperate for stimulation.
How much trouble could I get into in two hours? It's not like I'm going to accidentally start a war or anything. Probably...
I finished my coffee, caught Riley's attention, and mouthed "going for a walk" while pointing toward the door. She gave me a thumbs up—apparently that gesture survived whatever cultural revolution had occurred—and I headed back out into the modern world.
The first thing I noticed was the sound. Not just the cars, though there were plenty of those, but a constant background hum of electricity. The lightning-on-poles that I'd observed earlier seemed to power more than just lights. Music drifted from various buildings, not performed by visible musicians or traveling bards but somehow emanating from hidden sources.
They've learned to capture and store music. That's actually quite impressive.
I picked a direction at random—deeper into what appeared to be the town center—and started walking. The sidewalk was smooth concrete, which was a significant improvement over the cobblestones I remembered. Much easier on the feet, though still challenging to navigate when you can't see your feet over your belly.
The buildings were fascinating. Some were traditional brick and stone, but others were creative. One appeared to be painted entirely in rainbow colors. Another had a giant metal sculpture of what might have been a dragon attached to its side. A third was covered in what looked like organized graffiti—colorful, artistic, but definitely deliberately applied to the walls.
When did humans start decorating their buildings like this? Not that it's bad, just... different.
People were everywhere, but they moved differently than I remembered. More casual, more relaxed. Their clothing was fascinating. Gone were the structured layers and formal fabrics I remembered. Instead, everyone seemed to be wearing what looked like comfortable work clothes, but in bright colors.
People wore the most comfortable-looking clothing I'd ever seen. Soft pants that seemed to stretch with movement, loose shirts that looked infinitely more practical than the layered garments I remembered. Everything looked designed for actual comfort and mobility.
That looks so much more sensible than what I'm wearing. No corsets, no multiple layers, no complicated fastenings. Did they finally figure out that comfort is more important than... whatever we were trying to achieve with all those buttons and stays?
When did practical clothing become acceptable for public wear? This is actually a significant improvement. Especially when you're carrying around this much extra weight in front.
One person walked by wearing a shirt with pictures printed on it - what appeared to be images of food.
They're putting pictures on their clothing now. Is that for decoration? Advertisement? I wonder if that's how they identify their profession - food vendors wearing food pictures?
The further I walked, the more confused I became. A building with a sign reading "MOUNTAIN SPORTS" had a giant metal contraption with wheels displayed in its window, except it only had two wheels and looked like it would require superhuman balance to operate.
Did humans develop better balance? Or is this some sort of torture device?
Next to it was a shop called "GREEN GODDESS CANNABIS" with a cheerful sign featuring a leaf pattern I didn't recognize. The name suggested it was some sort of herbal medicine shop, which made sense. Humans had always used plants for healing.
Although "Green Goddess" seems like a rather bold claim. I wonder what sort of healing properties this cannabis plant has.
Across the street, a building called "PERMANENT SKIN ART" had pictures in its windows of humans with elaborate decorative markings covering their arms and legs. The markings were clearly intentional and artistic, not natural variations in human skin tone.
They're decorating their skin now? Permanently? That seems... irreversible. What happens when fashions change?
I stopped at a corner to rest—pregnancy and extended walking don't mix well, regardless of how many millennia you've had to get used to it—and found myself face-to-face with a tall metal box covered in buttons and a dark screen.
Another magic rectangle, but this one's enormous and attached to a pole.
A woman approached the box, inserted a small rectangular object into a slot, and began pressing buttons. The screen lit up and started displaying text faster than I could read it. After a few moments, the box made mechanical sounds and dispensed what appeared to be paper currency.
It's a money-dispensing machine. She put something in, pressed some symbols, and it gave her money. That's... actually quite convenient. But where does the money come from? Does the box create it? Is this alchemy?
I watched three more people use similar boxes over the next few minutes, each following the same ritual: insert rectangle, press buttons, receive money. The rectangles they inserted looked different from the glowing ones everyone carried, but clearly served some sort of identification or authorization purpose.
They've systematized currency distribution. No more carrying heavy coins or having to visit money-lenders. That's genuinely impressive progress.
The people-watching continued to be educational. I observed several individuals holding their glowing rectangles up in front of their faces, remaining perfectly still for a moment, then looking at the rectangles with satisfaction. Some did this alone. Others did it in groups.
Are they... capturing their own reflections somehow? For what purpose?
One young man held his rectangle at arm's length, positioned his face in front of it, then spent several minutes making different facial expressions while staring at the device. Happy, serious, surprised, contemplative. After each expression, he would look at the rectangle, sometimes frowning and trying again.
He's practicing expressions for... something. Maybe the rectangles evaluate emotional authenticity? Is this some sort of training exercise?
I was so absorbed in watching this ritual that I didn't notice the group of people approaching until one of them spoke directly to me.
"Excuse me, are you okay?"
Three young women approached, looking concerned.
"You look like you might need to sit down," one continued. "When are you due?"
There's that question again.
"It's... complicated," I said, using the same response that had worked with Riley.
"Oh honey, pregnancy is always complicated," said another woman. "But you look ready to pop any second. Do you need us to call someone? Your partner? Your doctor?"
There's that term again. Is this how they describe this now?
"I'm fine, thank you," I managed. "Just... exploring."
They exchanged worried glances. "Well, be careful," the third woman said. "There's a great smoothie place just down the block if you need something cold."
"Oh, and nice elf cosplay!" one of them added, pointing at my ears.
"Cosplay?" I asked.
She gestured at my ears again. "The pointed ears? Really convincing!"
"Oh... right. Thanks?" I managed.
Then it dawned on me.
That's right... they've never seen a dark elf before. Well congratulations, girls. You found one. And pregnant. Very pregnant.
...And what's a smoothie?
After they left, I found the establishment - "FRESH SQUEEZED" - with windows full of pictures of colorful drinks that looked like liquid rainbows. Through the glass, I could see people drinking these vibrant concoctions through long tubes.
They've liquified fruits and vegetables and made them decorative. And they're consuming them through... tubes? Is this more efficient than chewing?
I heard live music and found a young man sitting on the sidewalk with a case open in front of him. He was playing what looked like a modified lute—six strings instead of the traditional number—and singing in a style I didn't recognize but found pleasant. People walked by and occasionally dropped coins into his case.
Street performance for voluntary payment. That's... actually exactly the same as it's always been. Some things really don't change.
I stood there listening for several minutes, enjoying the familiar concept of live music, when something else caught my attention. A shop window across the street was filled with glowing rectangles of various sizes, all displaying moving pictures.
Moving pictures. On command. That's... that's actually magic. Or technology so advanced it might as well be magic.
I crossed the street carefully—the painted lines on the roads apparently had meaning related to where people were supposed to walk—and approached the window. The moving pictures showed people doing various activities: cooking, fighting, laughing, talking. Some appeared to be stories, like theatrical performances. Others seemed to be documentation of real events.
They've learned to capture and replay human experiences. Not just images, not just sounds, but entire sequences of events. That's... actually incredible.
One of the displays showed something that made me freeze in recognition: a woman, obviously pregnant, demonstrating what appeared to be exercises or stretches. Text appeared at the bottom of the picture, too fast for me to read completely, but I caught words like "prenatal" and "wellness."
They're documenting pregnancy experiences. Teaching other pregnant women through captured moving pictures. That's... actually quite practical.
The longer I watched, the more overwhelmed I became. Every window, every sign, every person seemed to represent some advancement or change that had occurred during my absence. The volume of information was staggering.
How does anyone keep track of all this? How do they learn what everything means? How do they function in a world with this many... things?
I checked the position of the sun and realized I'd been wandering for over an hour. Riley would be finishing her shift soon, and I was... completely lost.
Right. Maybe solo exploration wasn't the best idea.
I looked around, trying to retrace my steps, but every street looked similar, and every building had those incomprehensible signs. The rainbow-colored building was nowhere to be seen. The metal dragon sculpture had vanished. Even the street musician had disappeared.
This is problematic.
For the first time since leaving my cabin, I felt a genuine stab of panic. I was lost in a world I didn't understand, with no idea how to communicate my location to anyone, carrying currency that apparently hadn't been valid for decades.
Maybe I should have stayed in the chair.
I stood on the corner, nine months pregnant and overwhelmed, trying to figure out how to get back to the one place in this strange new world where someone had been kind to me.
That's when I smelled it again: coffee.
Following my nose like a bloodhound, I turned down a side street and spotted the familiar window of The Daily Grind. I nearly cried with relief.
Never leaving the coffee shop again. Modern world is too complicated for solo exploration.
I pushed through the door, the little bell chiming my return, and Riley looked up from behind the counter with a mixture of relief and exasperation.
"There you are! I was starting to worry."
"I got lost," I admitted, sinking back into the comfortable chair by the window.
"In downtown Asheville?" She laughed. "That's impressive. It's only like six blocks in any direction."
Six blocks. I got lost in six blocks. That's... actually embarrassing.
"Everything looks the same when you're lost," I said, which was embarrassing to admit.
Riley finished cleaning something behind the counter, then grabbed her own cup of coffee and came over to sit across from me.
"Okay," she said, settling in. "My shift just ended. Tell me what's really going on."
Where do I even start?