The Good MachineI am sitting in the kitchen. Jacobo sits across from me, with his arms down on the table and his chin upon his hands. We are both looking at a small tub sitting in the middle of the table. It is very still in the kitchen, as if both Jacobo and I are waiting for the tub to move, somehow, dancing away past the parsley in the vase and scuttling into the hallway, chortling. Jacobo has made some yogurt.
"It might be safe to eat it," he says. We look at it some more. Jacobo forgot to heat the milk before culturing it. "Stupid, stupid," he says to himself. His hands rise to thin his hair, and his chin thumps wood. The yogurt shimmies a little. "It might be safe."
Juliet comes by with a bowl of jam. "Excellent," she says, and reaches for a spoon.
"It might kill you," Jacobo says. Juliet shrugs, and dollops yogurt on the jam. She marbles the two with her spoon. She tastes it.
"It's good," she says.
Jacobo holds his head in his hands.
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