“I don’t have any money, so I’ll have to flirt for drinks, I guess. It’s been a while. I hope social mores haven’t changed so much that I accidentally propose marriage or provoke a duel.”

“Marriage is considered a bit old-fashioned, at least out here on the edge of the system. There are contractual relationships of various sorts, but you won’t enter into one of those accidentally. Usually legal AIs get involved. I’ll pay for your drinks, though, don’t worry. I have more lix than I know what to do with. Just order and they’ll charge through your tablet.”

Elena went to the bar, tended by a human with a spiky haircut and a vest that looked like leather over her otherwise bare chest, where glowing abstract tattoos writhed in her cleavage. “Drinkies?” she said.

“Please. I haven’t had a drink in about five hundred years.”

“Some catching up to do then.” The bartender smiled, showing off teeth that gleamed with metallic hues, and a flash of blue tongue.

Elena didn’t react to the colorful smile. If she could avoid looking like a bumpkin, she would. She recognized almost none of the bottles behind the bar, and many of them were unmarked anyway. Homemade, or bespoke, or merely ornamental? “What do you recommend?”

“You like sweet or sour or something with a bite?”

“Why not all three?”

“I’ll make you a special special.” The bartender deftly snatched bottles and poured her selections directly into an oversized martini glass, where they formed distinct layers, like a parfait. The bottom level was pale green, the second deep red, and the top rich black. She rubbed the rim with the peel of some citrus fruit Elena didn’t recognize, then sprinkled one side of the rim with sugar and the other with flecks of something reddish and crystalline. “It’s called a ziggurat, invented by me myself in the icy nowheres, to keep you warm where it counts.”

Elena picked up the glass carefully, impressed at the way the layers stayed distinct. She sipped, the black liquid washing over the sugared rim, and it was citrusy at first and then smoky and then almost coffee. Heat blossomed in her belly when she swallowed. “Mmm.”

“Try the other side,” the bartender said, and Elena obligingly sipped. This time it was more like paprika smokiness, and sweet, almost cherry, as the red layer swirled up. Another sip and the green mingled, fresh and bright and summery and citrus-tangy. It was like three cocktails in one.

“This is amazing, thank you.”

“Your lips are all red and red. From the sweet liqueur in the center. Color will fade soon but pretty until.”

Elena dabbed at her lips with a napkin, which didn’t come away stained, anyway. “I could probably use the color. I spent a long time in the dark.”

“You sound from far away. Down a well?”