Aberrant: Dead Rising - Moral fiber and a lemon sherbert (Fic)

[Anatoly]

The air was cool within the confines of the van, a tender flow generated by the aircondioning installed. It was not running on full power, but Benedict needed it cool in here. His latest project was not to fail him.

The kitchen was small by the standards of a restaurant, but it was arranged most efficiently, in stainless steel and hard plastic posing as black marble. Were he a smaller man, it would've been perfect, but Benedict was not a small man and he yearned desperately for a larger avenue for his performance.

Like an alchemist pouring over the contents of a bubbling flask he deftly dropped clear yellow lemon juice over finely rasped lemon zest, stirring with a tiny spoon which almost disappeared in his large hands. Milk provided the volume, while freshly whipped cream would provide the texture.

As he stirred it all together briskly, the bowl clenched firmly on the inside of his elbow, he counted in his mind the seconds it would take to provide the most wondrous, cloud-like consistency to the whole. Sugar, dashed in with the expertise of a master archer, dotted this downy landscape until the stirring took hold and absorbed them in like a warm bed awaiting the tired traveller.

Benedict set down the bowl and used another tiny spoon to taste the mixture. "Mmm, not bad." he mused, as he added exactly three more drops of lemon juice and a tiny amount of sugar.

To his delicate palate, even the tiniest imperfection in the taste became like a vulgar monster awaiting vanquishing by fine ingredients - he would not rest until it was complete, and his mind was set on it.

He recalled in his mind the day spent in the Box, and his meeting with Dr. Shepard. He saw in her reflected what he believed in himself to be paragon traits: the drive to perfection, modesty over one's skill yet full of will to put it into action.

"Alas," he hummed to himself as the contents of the bowl slided lazily into a stainless steel pot, "that woman's modesty seems so reserved, so correct, herself so willing to be placed in the shadow of others to avoid scrutiny."

It wasn't that he didn't understand - the good Lord knew he had his share of scrutiny to avoid - but Benedict was not a fool. Sometimes flowers only bloom at night, and impatiently uncovering the blossoms would only damage them, forgoing any further development or lustre.

While speaking to him she only once smiled - and only slightly at that - but to Benedict this was the first sign of spring, the thaw setting in on a winter landscape. "All she needs is a bit of encouragement, a dash of courage, perhaps? A sign of a world not devoid of hope or light, yes, that sound suitably poetic."

Benedict suppressed a yawn as he performed the necessary cleanup - it would take about four hours for the mixture to freeze and rearrange itself into a lemon sherbert. He was demanding of his kitchen, spic and span even in the darkest corners, lest impurities defile his sanctum. In here, he was the clergy of cooking, and the stainless steel cover of the workbench was his pulpit. This was his place, here he produced his miracles for the crowd...

[Anatoly]

As the hours passed, Benedict's senses told him the moment had come. With a flourish he opened up the door to the small freezer, and produced the small pot in which his mixture had been cooling. He gently removed its cellophane covering, and once more a tiny spoon went down to sample the creation.

"Perfect."

A smile drew on Benedict's face, and he hurriedly put down the Lemon Sherbert to free his hands. From one of the cabinets he produced a small plastic cup - one of those translucent ones used in coffee machines - and scooped a dollop of the slightly firm mass into it.

He picked up a notepad. It was marked with the logo of a Vegas diner that would never serve customers again, but the irony of this fact did not seem to reach him. He began to write - an oddball, almost childish style of writing.

"To Dr. Shepard,

Thank you for your care during my time in the holding area. It helped greatly in reducing the strain of arriving at a new place, with new people.

I would like you to know that I believe you may hold your head high when it comes to your medical skills and need not downplay the extend to which you may find a use for them in our current situation.

As a sign of support, I have included with this message a sample of a most delightful dessert - a lemon sherbert. When tasting it, try and think of the brightest future possible, and you will have made the first step to making it reality.

Respectfully,

Benedict Prydford

P.S. I have more if you decide you've taken a liking to it"

Benedict turned to the window and gazed outward. "Mmm," he hummed, stroking his beard thoughtfully, "now only a way to deliver this to its intended recipient..."

Click to reveal..

Lemon Sherbet recipe

1/2 cup (120 ml) of lemon juice (2 - 3 large lemons)

Zest of 1 large lemon

1/2 cup (120 ml) heavy whipping cream

1/2 cup (120 ml) milk

1/3 cup (65 grams) superfine (castor) sugar

In a measuring cup, stir together the lemon juice, lemon zest, cream, milk, and sugar. Taste and add more sugar if needed. Cover and place in the refrigerator to chill for several hours.

Pour the mixture into an 8 inch (20 cm) or 9 inch (23 cm) stainless steel pan (will freeze faster in stainless steel), cover with plastic wrap, and place in the freezer for about four hours. Stir the mixture every half hour, to break up any large ice crystals that have formed. When the sherbet is firm (will not be rock hard) with a consistency somewhere between an ice cream and a sorbet, transfer the sherbet to a plastic container and place in the freezer.

Makes about 4 servings.