Chapter 7: Hamburger Politics
Kayel sat in the Caltech cafeteria staring at a blank wall with the intensity of someone trying to solve the mysteries of the universe. In reality, he was trying very hard not to think about anything at all.
His balance had climbed to a relatively luxurious $22.10 thanks to a weekend gig updating a local restaurant's menu website. Basic HTML, no system intervention required, just forty dollars of honest work that had felt like winning the lottery. But every dime was precious, which meant every thought had to be carefully policed.
The cafeteria was buzzing with the usual lunchtime energy—graduate students debating theoretical physics over pizza, professors grading papers while eating sad desk salads, the occasional undergraduate looking lost and overwhelmed. Kayel had discovered that if he positioned himself near the physics department table, he could catch fragments of interesting conversations without being charged for eavesdropping.
Plus, today was free food day. Some kind of donor appreciation event that meant buffet-style lunch for anyone with a university ID. Kayel didn't have a university ID, but Leonard had vouched for him as a "visiting researcher," which was technically true if you considered unemployment a form of research into economic survival.
"Don't think about money. Don't think about anything. Just sit here and absorb free calories."
The mantra was interrupted when Leonard appeared at his table, looking unusually nervous and carrying two cups of coffee.
"Hey," Leonard said, sliding into the opposite chair. "Mind if I sit? I need a second opinion on something."
"Sure," Kayel said, grateful for the distraction from his own thoughts.
Leonard glanced around the cafeteria, then leaned forward conspiratorially. "So, there's this colleague of mine. Leslie Winkle. She's brilliant—laser physics, cutting-edge research, completely out of my league."
"This is about the woman who verbally destroyed him in the hallway last week."
"Okay," Kayel said carefully.
"I'm thinking about asking her to our Hamburger Night tonight. You know, casual, low-pressure. Just a bunch of friends hanging out, eating burgers, watching TV."
"Poor guy has no idea what he's walking into."
"Sounds nice," Kayel said aloud.
"Right? Exactly. Very casual. Non-threatening." Leonard took a sip of his coffee, then immediately grimaced. "God, this coffee is terrible. How do they make it taste like burnt sadness?"
Before Kayel could respond, Leonard was already standing up, coffee in hand, walking toward a table across the cafeteria where a petite brunette was sitting alone, reading what looked like a scientific journal.
"Here we go."
Kayel watched as Leonard approached Leslie's table with all the confidence of a man walking to his own execution. Even from a distance, he could see Leonard's forced smile, the careful way he set down the coffee cup, the slightly too-loud "Hey, Leslie!" that carried across the room.
Leslie looked up from her journal with the expression of someone who'd just discovered gum on her shoe. Leonard launched into what was clearly a rehearsed speech about Hamburger Night and casual socializing and "no pressure, just friends hanging out."
Kayel couldn't hear the exact words, but he could read the body language like a story written in disappointment. Leonard's increasingly desperate gestures. Leslie's polite but firm head shake. The way she returned to her journal with the finality of a closing door.
Leonard walked back to Kayel's table looking like a deflated balloon.
"How'd it go?" Kayel asked, though the answer was written all over Leonard's face.
"She said she'd think about it," Leonard said with forced optimism. "Which I think means maybe?"
"That definitely means no."
"Could be," Kayel said diplomatically.
"You should come tonight," Leonard said suddenly. "To Hamburger Night. We always order too much food anyway, and you seem like you could use..." He gestured vaguely at Kayel's general existence. "I mean, if you want to. No pressure."
Free food. The magic words that made Kayel's financial anxiety temporarily disappear.
"That sounds great," he said. "What time?"
"Seven. Just bring yourself. We've got everything else covered."
That evening, Kayel found himself perched on the edge of Leonard and Sheldon's couch, trying to balance a plate of burger and fries while remaining hyperaware of his surroundings. The apartment was warm and filled with the comfortable chaos of friends who'd known each other too long—Howard and Raj arguing about the scientific accuracy of some sci-fi movie, Leonard nervously checking his phone every thirty seconds, Sheldon holding court about the optimal temperature for hamburger consumption.
"This is nice. Almost normal. Just don't think too hard about anything that might trigger system charges."
Kayel took small bites of his burger and focused on being a casual observer rather than an active participant. It was safer that way. Less chance of accidental queries or billable thoughts.
That's when Leslie Winkle knocked on the door.
Leonard nearly choked on his burger. "She came," he whispered, as if speaking too loudly might make her disappear.
"Of course she came," Sheldon said matter-of-factly. "Free food is a powerful motivator, even for those with questionable social priorities."
Leonard opened the door to reveal Leslie standing in the hallway, wearing jeans and a casual sweater that somehow made her look even more intimidating than her lab coat.
"Hi," she said with a smile that was equal parts friendly and predatory. "Hope I'm not too late."
"Not at all!" Leonard said, stepping aside to let her in. "We were just getting started. Can I get you a drink? Beer? Soda? We have this really good root beer that—"
"Beer's fine," Leslie said, surveying the room. Her eyes landed on Sheldon's spot on the couch—the specific cushion that everyone knew was Sheldon's designated seat, marked by years of careful conditioning and neurotic territorial behavior.
Without hesitation, Leslie walked over and sat down in Sheldon's spot.
The effect was immediate and catastrophic. Sheldon's face went through a series of expressions that would have been comical if they weren't so genuinely distressed—confusion, disbelief, horror, and finally, a kind of helpless rage that made his eye twitch.
"That's..." Sheldon began, then stopped.
"That's what?" Leslie asked sweetly.
"That's... my spot."
"Your spot?"
"Yes. That specific location on the couch. It's calibrated for optimal temperature, viewing angle, and proximity to the bathroom. I've been sitting there for three years."
Leslie shrugged. "Well, now I'm sitting here. Problem?"
"Oh, this is better than cable television. The poor guy looks like he's about to have an aneurysm."
[SOCIAL ANALYSIS: $1.00. PSYCHOLOGICAL DYNAMICS ASSESSMENT AVAILABLE.]
"Not worth it," Kayel thought immediately. "I can watch the drama unfold for free."
Howard and Raj exchanged delighted glances. Leonard looked like he was caught between defending his roommate and impressing his crush. And Sheldon just stood there, vibrating with barely contained neurosis.
"Perhaps," Sheldon said with forced calm, "you could sit in Leonard's chair. Or the other end of the couch. Or literally anywhere else in the apartment."
"I'm comfortable here," Leslie said, crossing her legs and settling in more firmly.
Sheldon's eye twitch intensified. For a moment, Kayel thought the physicist might actually explode from sheer indignation. Instead, he retreated to Leonard's chair and spent the rest of the evening glaring at Leslie with the intensity of someone plotting elaborate revenge.
The dinner conversation was a minefield of passive-aggressive comments and territorial posturing. Leslie made pointed remarks about theoretical physics being "all theory, no application." Sheldon responded with cutting observations about experimental physics being "mindless data collection without intellectual framework." Leonard tried desperately to steer the conversation toward neutral topics like the weather or current events, only to watch helplessly as every subject somehow became ammunition in their academic cold war.
Through it all, Kayel sat on the edge of the couch, eating his free burger and watching the social dynamics unfold like a nature documentary. He'd learned to recognize the patterns—the way Howard's jokes became more desperate when he felt ignored, the way Raj went silent when the conversation moved too fast, the way Leonard's nervous laughter increased in direct proportion to his romantic anxiety.
"These people are disasters. Brilliant, educated disasters."
[QUERY: $0.10]
Balance: $22.00.
Even casual observations about his friends cost money. Kayel took another bite of his burger and tried to focus on the food rather than the social train wreck happening around him.
By nine o'clock, Leslie had left, Sheldon had retreated to his room to "recalibrate his living space," and Leonard was stress-eating leftover fries while staring at his phone.
"So," Howard said, settling back into his chair, "that went well."
"She hates me," Leonard moaned. "She spent the entire evening psychologically dismantling Sheldon just to avoid talking to me."
"I don't think she hates you," Raj said quietly.
"Then what would you call it?"
"Indifference. Which is arguably worse."
Leonard groaned and put his head in his hands.
Kayel excused himself and headed for the door, leaving Leonard to contemplate his romantic failures in private. But as he stepped into the hallway, he nearly collided with Penny, who was coming up the stairs with an armload of laundry.
"Hey!" she said brightly. "How was boys' night?"
"Hamburger Night," Kayel corrected. "And... eventful."
"Eventful how? Did someone set something on fire? Because Leonard mentioned that was a possibility with Sheldon cooking."
"No fires. Just..." Kayel paused, trying to figure out how to explain the evening's social carnage. "Leonard invited a colleague. She and Sheldon had some kind of territorial dispute."
"Territorial dispute?"
"She sat in his spot."
Penny's eyes widened with understanding. "Oh, no. Not the spot. How did he handle it?"
"About as well as you'd expect. Lots of twitching. Some muttering about spatial dynamics and optimal seating configurations."
Penny laughed, the sound bright and genuine in the narrow hallway. "Poor Sheldon. And poor Leonard. I'm guessing the colleague wasn't impressed by the roommate situation?"
"She seemed more interested in psychological warfare than romance."
"What do you mean?"
Kayel considered how to explain without getting too deep into analysis that might cost him money. "Let's just say Leonard tried to play a romantic song, but she was more interested in tuning his roommate's strings."
Penny looked confused. "What?"
"She played him like a cello," Kayel clarified. "Sheldon, not Leonard. Leonard was just collateral damage."
"I still don't get it."
Kayel sighed. "Sex metaphor, Penny. She strummed Leonard's cello. Metaphorically. Except she wasn't interested in the music."
Understanding dawned on Penny's face, followed immediately by sympathetic laughter. "Oh, God. So Leonard's still striking out?"
"Leonard's still Leonard," Kayel said. "Which means yes, he's striking out."
As he climbed the stairs to his own apartment, Kayel couldn't help but smile. For the first time since arriving in this universe, he'd managed to have an actual conversation without triggering a dozen system charges. He'd observed, participated, even made jokes—all for the low cost of a single ten-cent query.
Maybe he was finally learning how to exist in his own head without going bankrupt.
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