The owner of the snack stall where Schiller sat was from Fujian and specialized in noodles—Fujian shrimp noodles, satay noodles, and the like. But Schiller did not like noodles, so he ordered a bowl of wontons, while Raven ordered Fujian noodles.
Schiller heard the owner and his wife talking behind the food cart in some local Fujian dialect. They spoke English, accented but smoothly enough to communicate with customers, which showed they had been here for quite some time.
"I saw an envelope on your table," Raven said after taking a sip of noodle soup. "There were some strange symbols drawn on it. Did something strange happen to you?"
"Those weren't strange symbols." Schiller sounded rather helpless. "They were... Chinese characters written rather badly."
Even Schiller felt a little guilty when he said those final words, because from any angle, they could hardly be called Chinese characters.
"Chinese characters? Do you have a friend from China?"
Schiller shook his head, but after pausing briefly, he nodded again. "I do have a Chinese friend, but it wasn't him. He's from the Soviet Union."
Raven drew in a sharp breath. "The Soviet Union? The newspapers say it's a terrifying place."
Schiller shook his head without speaking. Raven slurped up a mouthful of noodles, sighed, and said, "I think I really need to go to school. Compared to everyone else, it feels like I know nothing."
"You could choose not to compare yourself to others. But if you want to attend school, I can have Alfred call Dick's school."
"Would that get me enrolled?"
"Yes."
"So society outside is this advanced. Everyone can go to school so easily." Raven sighed. "In Azarath, if you wanted to study, you had to visit a teacher. The teacher would examine your talent, and you had to