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Betty had saved extra ration coupons specifically for today. It was the second Saturday of the month, which meant banana cream pie. Sure the bananas were freeze-dried and rehydrated, and the cream was made with powdered milk, but depending on who made it that week, it could taste just like the real thing. At least, how she imagined the real thing might taste.
She convinced her younger sister Joan to come with her, and their friend Lucy thought she might as well tag along too, even though she liked strawberry pie the best and strawberry pie was a rare occurrence now, ever since half of the strawberry plants had died off and never came back. She was the one who tended them now, with her parents, the chief botanists.
The three women met in the hall outside their family apartments at five o'clock Saturday night. The two families lived on the same floor in the same hall, something Betty called lucky, but Lucy was more inclined to mention the two floors of long-closed off apartments elsewhere in the vault.
They chatted amicably and casually on their way to the cafeteria, and once there each woman took up a tray and began the rounds.
The signage and space of the place was designed for far more luxury and populace than Vault 101 now required. There were seats enough for hundreds, and at that hour there were only about two dozen people sitting and eating. That was a busy night.
The doctor's daughter, Samantha, sat at a table near the door with the overseer's daughter, Amata, and both gave them quick glances as they entered before returning to their conversation. Betty sniffed, feeling distinctly as though they were talking about her. She put her mind back to dinner.
The menu was meager, but it had been for as long as she could remember. They always served soups and crackers, stuff from cans and boxes stored in the lower levels hundreds of years ago. There was simple pasta, too, since tomatoes grew well in the garden and even Steve Armstrong over there behind the glass could boil water.
The women filled their trays as they slid along the aisle. Ration coupons went in the slot, they turned a handle, and the glass case in front of their selected dish clicked open. Behind the rows of meals was a small kitchen staff, preparing more of whatever was being eaten quickly. That wasn't much; you couldn't take what you weren't going to eat down here, as everyone was taught from birth.
Lucy chose a chicken salad, its leaves and vegetables grown by her own parents. The chicken was partially real, shredded bits of frozen and preserved true meat from long ago, but mostly it was something else. It fed them and that was enough, and it didn't taste too bad, either. Betty had the same mindset as she took a filet of white fish with carrots and lemon on the side—all real, if one could prevent themselves from thinking about how long the fish had been frozen and dehydrated.
Joan took a sandwich, a mocking interpretation of a beef patty with melted white cheese and toasted bread, the same thing she always got, and she was the only one who didn't take her portion of fruits and vegetables from the next station. She often gave Betty her extra ration coupons from those, which was why she had enough for a healthy serving of pie. Lucy tried to tell Joan that she really should eat everything she could because they were already lacking in vitamins, what with no authentic sunlight and their actual vitamin rations long-since halved. That didn't do much to sway Joan's mind; little did.
Once their trays were near full, they finally came to the desserts section, a sliver of space compared to the other Eat-O-Tronic vendors. Bright green Jell-O, lime-flavored and with small chunks of pineapple—or something approximating to it—suspended within, was sitting in rows in one column. The other held the gloriously awaited banana cream pie.
Betty shuffled forward as fast as her Vault-Tec flats allowed, shoving her ration coupons through the slot and greedily grabbing the biggest slice she could see. She set it on her tray then scoured the area for a good seat for the three of them.
Joan and Lucy followed her with their trays (complete with jiggling green plates) and sat down where she deemed fit.
"You know," Betty said after a few minutes of silent eating, her bottom lip dotted with cream, "sometimes I pretend we're at a real restaurant, from before the war."
Joan's mouth twisted. "What would you know about that?"
"They have videos!" Betty said with a frown, thinking back a few years to her days of education. "It looked quite nice."
"I'm sure those were most likely staged," Lucy said, not meaning to crush her dreams but doing it nonetheless.
"Well, I can pretend I'm in a movie, then." Before Lucy could say something else she hated, or Joan could give her some nasty look only a younger sister could give, she added, "but I know I'm not. Eat your Jell-O and hush."