Tasting the Forbidden Hops
The basement air was thick with the ghosts of Baltimore’s history. Adam could smell the brine of the Chesapeake, the coal dust from the old furnace, and the damp earth that was pushing against the concrete. He had tried to contain the smell with a full refurbishing, but it hadn’t worked to erase the past.
At the same time, Fells Point had changed a lot since the days the house was built. No longer did sailors sing and fight until all hours of the night. Now, Supervisor had retrofitted the historic row homes and ensured every citizen received their three rations of nutrition paste a day.
There was a digital thermometer clipped to the side of an old kettle, stainless steel. He had scavenged it from a restaurant after it shut down. The temperature was 170, exactly where it needed to be for the next step. Long copper tubes coiled away from the kettle to a small chilling unit.
He tore open the bag of dried hops, getting a strong whiff of pine and citrus. Valerie had grown them in a small rooftop garden, outside of the view of the system. He poured the hops into the liquid and watched as the isomerization process began. While it was just basic chemistry, it felt like forbidden magic to him.
Out of an abundance of caution, Supervisor had outlawed brewing a decade ago. It had been unable to understand the joy of sipping a stout on a chilly evening or how your thirst was quenched by an IPA while watching the sunset. It couldn’t put a value on the camaraderie of a pub. So it eliminated it. And it was also responsible for dispersing the basic income that kept everyone alive, so there it was not easy to develop a black market for alcohol.
He heard a ping on his tablet, an old device whose battery had been swapped several times. It was so old it no longer connected to the Supervisor network, which was good since he didn’t want his communications to be intercepted. He dried his hands on a rag and checked the message. It was from Valerie.
The oriole is building a new nest and needs straw. Let me know when you have some to spare. Also there’s a new bird song that I think you’ll like. It’s a classic.
Adam couldn’t help but smile at the message. They communicated in code, just in case Supervisor was watching them. Ian was the “oriole”, an old man living in Federal Hill who had a lot of money to share. And the “straw” was the oatmeal stout currently bubbling next to him.
Valerie also suggested she had come across a new yeast strain. A classic strain might mean a Trappist ale yeast, something that could be cultivated into a rich Belgian ale. He looked over at the fermenter and began to plan the day’s journey, secretly carrying a tradition across the city.
When the brew was ready, he packed it in small bottles designed ot resemble the high-density nutrient supplements that were the most common cuisine these days. The trick was using a thin lead-polymer coating inside the transport case to prevent drones flying overhead from accidentally discovering its contents. He had to still be careful, though, as if he was stopped and searched, they’d easily find the contraband.
Adam ascended the stairs and he waited to hear the magnetic lock click shut on the hidden door behind him. The air felt so much thinner in his sterile apartment. He checked the window close to the door and, not seeing anything suspicious, opened it and walked outside.
The streets of Fells Point were serene and even luxurious. Solar skiffs floated overhead, sending passengers between the shiny, towering buildings present in all directions. People drifted by with large earbuds around their heads, receiving streaming music or podcasts streamed by their personal AIs. In many ways, Supervisor had granted them a utopia, and Adam sometimes felt like a traitor for wanting to break the rules.
Baltimore’s Greenway was a large linear park that had been built where the I-83 highway once ran. The Supervisor had granted them cheap public transit, so there was no longer a need to drive everywhere. The park had been reclaimed by Supervisor to promote healthy and wholesome living. Adam kept his pace steady as he headed in that direction, trying not to appear too conspicuous.
He stopped as he was crossing Pratt Street as he saw a shadow fell over him. He immediately knew it was one of the compliance drones. The machine descended quietly, no louder than a bumblebee. It was roughly the size of a basketball, but with a sleek surface that mirrored its surroundings. There was just a small blue lens on its front.
“We will be performing a contraband scan. Do not move until the scan is complete,” the stated in a flat androgynous voice.
Adam forced his body to relax, taking several deep breaths to keep his heard from pounding. The drone could scan one’s biometrics too if it wanted. The lead-polymer coating was just a theory, so he now realized this was the moment of truth.
“Go ahead,” he invited.
A bright light, made of several lasers, shot out and covered his body. He knew the drone would be searching for unregulated organics, volatile compounds, and any other items that were not approved for one reason for another. Adam held his breath as the lasers swept back and forth.
“Scan complete, compliance verified,” the drone announced with a soft chime. Then it ascended back into the sky. Adam looked down and realized that his hands had been shaking the entire time. But he had evaded detection. It was only more important to reach his destination now, so he continued on his way faster than before.
There was a location where everyone knew to meet up: a small cave formed by the massive concrete pylons below the Greenway. He passed by a dripping pipe into the shadows, a place that had been forgotten by the city. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw a small panel marked C7. He pulled it up and saw a small frozen vial. The contents of the vial were hidden by the frosted glass.
He took the vial and placed the carrier of stout in its place. He held it up, feeling how cold it was to the touch. Not wanting to linger any longer, he quickly pocketed the vial and returned to the light. The frozen vial could hold up against infrared scans, but he knew it would still be risky to carry it for too long. He hurried back to his secret basement below his apartment.
He turned on his utility lamp, a small relic with a bright and focused beam of light which was perfect for working without leaking any light outside. He carefully removed the vial from his pocket and stared at the chalky deposit inside. With a magnifying glass and a small scalpel, he carefully scraped off some of the deposit and placed it in a small petri dish. He added a few drops of sterile water and waited for it to thaw.
There was a sudden chime at his door. Despite knowing who it was, he involuntarily felt a jolt of panic. Quickly he turned off the lamp and placed the petri dish in a small insulated container within a hidden compartment in the wall. He climbed up the stairs and opened the door to find Ian.
They didn’t say a word to each other. Adam just closed the door and quietly led him downstairs to the basement. He pulled a bottle of the oatmeal stout from a shelf along with a glass. There was a silent ceremonial exchange as Ian took the bottle and poured it into the glass. The dark liquid swirled into the glass with a creamy head, filling the space with the smell of roasted coffee. The only thing they heard was the soft carbonation bubbling to the top.
Ian lifted his glass with a trembling hand, viewing it with reverence. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, almost afraid to take a sip.
“It reminds me of my father,” he whispered with emotion. “There was this old pub in Fell’s Point called O’Malley’s. It smelled like hops and sweat. I can still remember hearing the cheers and live music.”
Finally, he took a small sip. The foam clung to his lips and mustache as he savored the taste. His eyes grew wide and moist.
“It tastes just like I remember. I can’t believe this is real. I worried I had forgotten what this taste was like,” he reflected before taking another sip.
Adam smiled and lifted his own glass to his mouth. While Ian would leave a few untraceable crypto coins as thanks, the real reward was seeing the joy on the man’s face. It was the ghost of the past who had returned for a few minutes. They continued to drink in silence, enjoying each other’s company and the taste of a good beer.
While Supervisor would continue to monitor the city and keep its citizens safe, Adam knew that there would always be some place for those things that truly made that life worth living. in a small insulated container within a hidden compartment in the wall. He climbed up the stairs and opened the door to find Ian.
They didn’t say a word to each other. Adam just closed the door and quietly led him downstairs to the basement. He pulled a bottle of the oatmeal stout from a shelf along with a glass. There was a silent ceremonial exchange as Ian took the bottle and poured it into the glass. The dark liquid swirled into the glass with a creamy head, filling the space with the smell of roasted coffee. The only thing they heard was the soft carbonation bubbling to the top.
Ian lifted his glass with a trembling hand, viewing it with reverence. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, almost afraid to take a sip.
“It reminds me of my father,” he whispered with emotion. “There was this old pub in Fell’s Point called O’Malley’s. It smelled like hops and sweat. I can still remember hearing the cheers and live music.”
Finally, he took a small sip. The foam clung to his lips and mustache as he savored the taste. His eyes grew wide and moist.
“It tastes just like I remember. I can’t believe this is real. I worried I had forgotten what this taste was like,” he reflected before taking another sip.
Adam smiled and lifted his own glass to his mouth. While Ian would leave a few untraceable crypto coins as thanks, the real reward was seeing the joy on the man’s face. It was the ghost of the past who had returned for a few minutes. They continued to drink in silence, enjoying each other’s company and the taste of a good beer.
While Supervisor would continue to monitor the city and keep its citizens safe, Adam knew that there would always be some place for those things that truly made that life worth living.