"Depends on when Lurch was planning to go out? I don't want to disrupt anyone's schedule too much."

"I believe he was next due for a grocery trip tomorrow. In which case, shall we go to the computer?"

"Sounds good!" She's so curious what kind of computer they have and whether they've somehow made it fit into their house's aesthetic. (If she ends up living here she'll need to either start doing the aesthetic or not that, but she'll deal with the embarrassment of not having spare clothes some time that isn't now. Maybe Wednesday will have a bunch of hand-me-downs lying around.)

Morticia gets up to lead the way.

As Wednesday follows along beside Miranda, she asks curiously, "Why don't you eat animal products?"

"So, this is one of the things I need to check if it's the same here, but on the Earth I came from most animal products you could get at a restaurant or grocery store came from farms that--used farming practices I thought were unethical. They treated the animals poorly. So I don't want to--have anything to do with that. It's just a personal choice; I don't judge other people for what they decide to eat."

"I have never in my life cared about anyone else's judgment of me and I am hardly about to start now," she says dismissively. "Does that mean, though, that you would eat animal products if they were, say, Father and Pugsley's fish? Or is fishing also unethical?"

Not caring about other people's judgement is a solid life choice. "I don't have nearly as much objection to fishing or hunting. I think I didn't know anyone who fished, before, because I don't remember what fish tastes like. And do remember what other foods taste like."

"There is some allure to the idea of not eating any animal I didn't personally see killed," Wednesday says thoughtfully.

Miranda nods thoughtfully. Does the immense internal aesthetic coherence come with the magic or is that separate.

"Maybe we can all try eating like you for a week and see how tolerable it is."

"That sounds like a lovely idea," says Morticia from up ahead; they've gone back through the foyer and she's picking up her skirts to ascend the black marble stairs. When the stairs split, she turns right.

Oh no, was she a pressurey jerk? She doesn't see how she can possibly have pressured either of them given the circumstances so she's going to go with tentative happiness and an attempt to remember some good recipes. Onwards up the stairs.

The computer proves to be located in a sort of weird anti-solarium; there's a skylight and a whole wall of windows, and a cleverly rigged system of star-speckled black curtains to shield the room from them all. Tentative hints of daylight sneak in around the edges and find themselves unwelcome.

The computer is a bit old, especially from Miranda's slightly futuristic perspective, but perfectly serviceable. The case, naturally, is glossy black, and set into a specially made cabinet in the desk, so that Morticia has to open a little door to press the power button. (One side of the cabinet is a sort of carved wooden screen rather than a solid panel, for airflow.) The monitor is inset into the wall behind the desk, decorously concealed by its own set of starry curtains, which open at the pull of a tasseled black rope. The keyboard and mouse are out in the open, but the keyboard is made of wood with round typewriter-style metal keycaps and the mouse, also made of wood, has the silhouettes of bones woodburned into its surface to form elaborate vaguely-floral patterns.

Heckin fabulous confirmed. Watch them run some kind of cryptographically ethereal obscure Linux distro where you have to write a Haskell script to open the browser. Whatever it is she'll git gud, of course.

Tragically, although the aesthetics of the interface are heavily customized, the mechanics are a bog-standard home edition of Windows 8. The Addamses are not Computer People. It will absolutely suffice to get her on Wikipedia, though! Morticia gestures for her to take a seat after demonstrating that the password is unspeakable.

Even numbered Windows, now that's spooky. But it indeed doesn't matter, because: Wikipedia!

Is the current US political situation the same as she remembers? Did James Randi still offer a million-dollar bribe for magic users to break the masquerade and get no takers? Is chicken farming still horrible? Are the top 50 US cities all recognizably real city names?

Politics are broadly similar but some of the specific names are different. James Randi's Wikipedia article depicts a career as a magician, a fight with another magician about the latter claiming supernatural powers he didn't have, and no mention of any prize offered at large for verifiable real ones. Chicken farming is just as horrible. (Wednesday leans forward in fascination.) The top 50 US cities all seem real and normal.

She declares the world "Not my Earth but very similar." She leaves the tab about chicken farming open in one window taking up half the space so Wednesday can read it while Miranda scrolls boringly through the list of cities and contemplates how many facts she knows about each one. It turns out she can describe the public transportation systems of Boston (especially Cambridge) and Pittsburgh, and knows good restaurants in both and more facts about their history and geography than baseline.

Wednesday turns to Morticia after finishing the chicken farming tab and announces, "Mother, it is unacceptable for my food to be tortured if I am not the one to torture it."

Ethics win??? Also she's in a parallel universe and even if she remembers enough facts to deduce where she's from she has no way of getting her old life back unless she also figures out parallel universe travel. But that's fucking depressing and she doesn't even know what was good about her old life for her to want it back so she's going to not focus on that. Instead she will poke around Wikipedia some more to see if she can find any other evidence of the supernatural, including conspicuous absences. Dracula? Ghost hunter TV shows? History of witchcraft trials? 

It takes a few article perusals to really begin to notice, because the difference is pretty subtle and mostly consists of omissions, but while Wikipedia in this universe presents a similar neutral and detached tone about supernatural phenomena to Wikipedia in Miranda's home world, it rarely quite gets to the point of outright denying things are real unless they are outright fictional with a specific author and everything. So Dracula is a fictional character invented by Bram Stoker based partly on legends of Vlad the Impaler, and ghost hunter TV shows vary widely in how much they present themselves as investigating actual phenomena—and might also just be less popular?—but the witchcraft trial articles, when investigated in detail, are willing to say some people were definitely not witches but are oddly silent on the subject when it comes to the rest.

What a weirdly porous masquerade. Is human psychology slightly different here, such that no individuals arise who notice that magic exists and immediately choose to throw it all into the light? Or is there a magic illuminati who ensure that nobody ever gets that far? She's not going to reveal other people's business that they don't want to be common knowledge, not when they revealed it to her in good faith, but it's entirely possible that if she had arrived in this world in different circumstances she would have been both a cause and a recipient of Problems. 

However real counterfactuals in general or that one in particular may be, this Miranda is not currently dealing with that. "I think I'm decently oriented to this world now," she says. "Enough to be getting on with in the short term, at any rate."

"I am glad to hear it!" says Morticia. "I would be fascinated to hear all about the differences between our worlds."

"I as well," says Wednesday, slightly disgruntled to be agreeing with her mother but not about to let this stop her from getting at the cool alternate universe facts.