The waitress seems reluctant to come over, pretending riot to see us, even though I've tried to catch her eye several times. We'd ordered our omelettes 40 minutes ago. How long does it take to crack a few eggs into a hot pan? "Do you think she's post-human?" I whisper to my husband. She looks too good to be real. Caleb glances over. "Maybe. She's very pretty, but mods are so subtle, it's difficult to see who's human and who's not." I wonder what such an attractive looking woman is doing working in a low-rent place like this, a greasy-spoon cafe in a habitat on the edge of Rhea.
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