TheSixthJarWhat he had expected to

see when he went intocislunar space to visit theHong of Koan‐tu: gleamingprecision‐machined objects,strange chambered habitatsrolling in darkness, computerization glossing like an oil slick over every object and surface,swarmsofnanoflies riling theair, thevisible,breathablemanifestationofaweirdnewcloudconsciousness.WhatKanoKoheiactuallysawfiveminutesafterenteringthemainhabitatringoftheHong

ofKoan‐tu:thesteamykitchenofaChineserestaurant,itssteeltablesladenwithfoodinmanystagesofpreparation,blackenedwoksbubblingwithoilandbroth,andoneyoungNipponeseman,cladinashabbyblacktunic,holdingabroad‐bladedknifeinonehand,theotherrestinguponapalegreencabbage.ThecooklookedupatKanoandsaid,“Youareintherightplace.Heishere.”KobayKidoconsideredwhatwasabouttounfold.Kanohadarrived,henowknew,andwas

beingescortedtohim,viathelongbackway,throughthekitchen.Alittleshowofintimidation:washehonoringhisguestorinsultinghimbysendinghimthroughthatway?KobayknewthatKanowouldwonderthesamething.Neithermanwouldbroachthetopic,butbetweenthemitwouldlinger.Kobayconsideredthejaranditsstylizedimagesoffruitwroughtintransparentglass.Itsat

inthecenterofthetablebetweenhimandtheseatthatKanowouldsoonoccupy,asifholdinggreatportentunderitsmetallid.What itreallyheldwas, legendarily, thesinequanonofhotsauces:producedinabatchof

only twodozenpint jars in themiddleof the twenty‐firstcentury, itwas thecondimentwithwhichJadenShonen‐JandooncesmotheredsomegrilledhalibutandthenservedittoBenjaminIngrahamatastatedinnerintheoldAmericanWhiteHouse.Whileeveryoneelseenjoyedtheirfish—dousedinabrilliantredbutmildromesco—Ingrahamhadstruggledtoretaincomposure,

ChristopherFletcher

©2009byM‐BRANESF

tearsandsnotrunningdown,alongandfromhisnose,asthesaucescorchedhispalate. It was perhaps the incident that triggered the feud that eventually toppled the

IngrahamsandusheredintheJandoImperium.Thatredliquidfirewasperhapsthehotsauceuponwhichanempirewasbuilt.Orsoculinaryhistorianslovedtobelieve. IntheHongofKoan‐tu,today,onasimplewoodentable,satthelastknownexistingjar

ofit. It’s flamboyant red‐orange colorwas the legacyof its origins:made fromabout equal

portions of habaneros and the famous “St. Louis reds,” a mutant strain now thought to beextinct, itwas believed to also contain the slightest infusion of annatto seed, just enough toboostandpreservethechilepeppercolor.Thespecificrecipewasunknownandwascertainlynever recorded. Jaden just cooked and never wrote anything down. It was said that hisreticencetobemoreorderlyandscientificinhisrecipedevelopmentledtoaloudanddrunkenargumentwithhiscousin,thefirstJandoimperator,attheruler’sinauguralballwhenthenewmonarchdemandedtherecipeforthisverysauce. All of the jars had not been accounted for, but it was known that six of them had

eventually madetheir way to Mars.Those six jars spentthe decades ofMartian wars andrevolution in a null‐entropy bin in thehomeofthejeddakofElysium. When thathouse became thehome‐of‐state of thePresidents of theCoreKasei,thejarsofsauce becameproperty of the newMartiangovernment. One was used

for a state dinner,when the firstKaseian presidententertained the

defeatedjeddaks. AnotherwassentbacktoEarthasagifttothelastJandoimperator. AthirdjarwaspresentedtoaHighTayhollaoftheHongHaidoplaxuponheraccession

to power in a sincere but ultimately pointless attempt at a cultural exchange between theMartiansandsomeofEarth’scislunarcolonies. ThefourthwasplacedinanationalmuseuminKaseiVallis,restingevennowinaglass‐

frontednull‐entropycase. Thefateofthefifthjarwasunknown. ThesixthonesatnowinfrontofKobayKido. “So,thisisit,”saidKanoflatly,gazingatthejar,glancingatKobay.Kano’stoneofvoice

wassomuchapartofwhatKobayhadalwayshatedabouthisrivalandnemesisthatitssoundhadbecomeatiresomesoundtracktoallhismemoriesoftheiroften‐crossedpastpaths. Whatwasheexpecting?Kobaywondered.Thejarhasspentmostofitsexistenceinanull­

entropybin.Didheimaginethatitwouldberimedwithmoldlikethecorkofatwo­century­oldbottle of vin dolce?Perhaps he thought itwould fill some kind of grander container than anancientBalljar. “Thisisit,”Kobayreplied,sittingbackinhischairabit.Ayoungbusboyquietlysetout

foodon their table, surrounding the sixth jar, itemswithwhich to taste the sauce: tempura‐friedvegetables,lacedindelicatebatter;stripsofcrispycorntortilla;colorfulknobsoffruitandthegreenleavesofherbs;eggsushiandreddish‐brownblobsoffermentedtofu;stripsoffishandmollusks,bothrawandcooked;thebraisedwingsoftinychickensinaconicalheap.TheboysetdownlittlecarafesofsakeandgreenbottlesofChinesebeeramidstitall. Letmetellyouhowmuch

I have come to hate you since Ibegan to live…Kobay thought,recallingsomethinghehadonceread, serving food onto Kano’splate with a tense smile. Kanohad blighted Kobay’s career. Itwas not enough for Kano toalways be the morecommercially successful of thetwochefs,withmoresuccessfulrestaurants, better‐sellingcookbooks, more publicityappearances on the net. No,that would have been asufficient career, in Kobay’sestimation,foramanwithmoremoneythantalent,butKanohadto take it further.Hehad foundit necessary, at every step, togive bad reviews to Kobay’sfood, to pan his cookbook, tostranglehisnet‐showinitscradle. KanowatchedKobayslowlyturnthejar’sbandandremoveit.Withtheendofasmall

knife,hepriedtheliditselffreeofthejar’smouth.Itmadeaslightpoppingsound.“Youhadnotyetopenedit,”Kanosaid,wide‐eyed. “Thisisthefirsttime.”Kobaydippedintothejarwithasmall,roundspoon,stirringthe

ancientsauce.Itsaromahungoverthetable,abrightandfruitynoteswirlingtogetherwiththevarious aromas of the food. With the spoon, Kobay filled two tiny condiment bowls withportionsofthesauce.“Now,shallwetasteit?” Kanogazedinwondermentathisportionofthesauceandthenseemedtospendsome

time trying todecidewhichbiteof food it shouldbematchedwith first.Finally,bothheandKobaysettleduponhavingtheirfirsttastewithoutfood,straightfromspoons. Magnificent,Kobay thought, savoring the tang, feeling theheatslowly travelandbuild

acrosshistongue.Itwastrulyhot!Moresothanhehadexpected,butalsointenselybrightand

evenslightlysweet.Kanosaidnothing,buttheexpressionsthatplayedacrosshisfacesaidthathewashavingasimilarreaction. They each selected a bit of food—Kano a sliver of octopus, Kobay a crisp‐fried green

bean—andtastedthesauceagain. “It’s amazing,” Kano said softly, chewing his food. Kobay watched the other man

continue like this, eatingmore tiny bites, paintedwith the slightest bit of Jaden’s legendarysauce. Then, after a few moments, he noticed something: tears were running from Kano’sreddenedeyes.Kanomoppedhisnosewithasleeveofhisgreyshirt,andbowedhishead. A great victory! Kobay thought. It is too hot for him. It makes him cry! The sauce

certainlywas hot, but for someone likeKano to show this sort ofweakness in publicwouldproveagreathumiliationwhenKobayletmutualacquaintancesknowofit. “Thankyou,”Kanowhispered,headstillbowed.Andhegaspedandsobbed,shoulders

shaking. No…Kobaythought.Thisisn’twhatIthought.Itwasnotthestingofthesaucethathad

broughtKanototears. KanoraisedhisheadandgazedacrossthetableatKobay. Hesaid,eyesstillweeping,

“AfterhowrudeIhavebeentoyouovertheyears,Icannotbelievethatyouwouldchoosemetoshare this great thing with you.”He bowed his head again. “I amunworthytoevensit in thesameroomwithyou,KobayKido.” Stunned, Kobay stared at

Kano for a long, long moment,unsurewhat to do. This was thelast outcome he could haveexpected, and he had made noplan for such a thing. Finally,needing something to say, andneeding a resolution to thisconundrum, Kobay said the onlything that he could think of, theonlythingthathefeltwashonestandright: “Whenweare finishedwithdinner,KanoKohei,youwilltaketherestofthejarwithyou.” Kobay sipped sake and

Kanostaredathimunbelievingly.“My gift to you, Kano,” he said.“And then we will have a freshstartbetweenus.” Kobay smiled and Kano

resumedhisweeping.ForKobay,whohad longdreamedofembarrassingor tauntinghisoldfoe,thiswasnotwhathehadwanted…yettobecharitabletoanenemyfeltbetterthanhecouldhaveimagined.Itwasbrilliantlikethesauce’sfruitiestnotes,cleanandshinyliketheglassofthesixthjar.END

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