Food Streaming

***

Waking up in my dimly lit room always felt like a quiet blessing. The faint glow of the digital wall-clock flickered 6:42 AM, casting pale blue numbers across the smooth, matte surface of my bedroom. Outside, faint murmurs of the waking city filtered through the ventilation systems—machines humming, distant air traffic gliding softly overhead.

I had everything a person could ever need: a warm bed, clean clothes, and enough privacy to drown in silence for weeks or even months if I chose to. I could sit here, doing nothing—or anything—and the world would keep spinning, uncaring and uninterrupted.

But despite the comfort, a faint hollow ache remained—a small, stubborn ember smoldering deep in my chest.

I didn’t want to admit it before, but lately, I could feel its glow more clearly.

My thoughts wandered to Kael.

He used to be a barber—one of the few professions that were still practiced manually. His hands were steady, his focus razor-sharp, and for a while, it brought him peace. But it wasn’t enough. It didn’t fulfill him the same way Wood Hunting had.

So, Kael retreated back into his sanctuary—his ancient books, just like he used to as a kid.

I envied him, in a sense.

Shaking the haze of early morning thoughts away, I slid my legs off the bed and planted my feet onto the smooth, temperature-controlled flooring. The room detected my movement, and soft ambient lights bloomed gently around me, casting a warm, golden glow across the minimalist space.

“Time for breakfast.”

With a flick of my fingers, the air-display above my bed blinked to life—a sleek holographic interface hovering mid-air. Rows of dishes flickered into view, each more appetizing than the last.

Scrambled eggs with onions, fresh vegetables, and wholegrain bread.

It had been a while since I’d had something classic like that.

“Add extra red onions for that sweet flavor,” I muttered, swiping the floating menu option.

The screen shimmered briefly as the order locked in. A smaller window expanded from the corner of the display, showing the live stream of my meal being prepared—microscopic nutrient compounds rearranging themselves into familiar forms: eggs, onions, greens, bread.

“Oh look, 2,048 people are streaming this breakfast in my area. Guess scrambled eggs are still as popular as ever.”

The system pinged softly:

‘Download the breakfast to save for later?’

“Nope, I’m eating now.”

I dismissed the option with a wave of my hand. The stream continued until the system chimed: ‘Your meal is ready.’

I grabbed my headgear from the nightstand, a sleek band of matte black metal and glass. With a practiced motion, I slipped it on, and the world faded away.

The experience was seamless—perfectly synchronized. The eggs tasted warm and fluffy, the onions sharp yet sweet, and the vegetables fresh with a satisfying crunch. The bread had just the right texture—dense, yet soft enough to melt in my mouth.

“Mmm, this is so delicious!”

The food on my display began to disappear bite by bite, pixilated crumbs dissolving as I ‘ate.’

The nutrients were delivered through nerve stimulation, directly transmitting essential compounds to the body’s systems via precise bioelectrical signals.

A green light blinked on the side of my headgear, signaling the end of the session. I removed it and placed it back on the nightstand.

A small, involuntary burp escaped me—an inelegant reminder that, despite its artificial origin, the system had done its job. I was full.

The moment of brief ungentlemanly behavior got interrupted by a faint chime in my ear implant.

Someone was calling me.

“Hey, thank you for ordering a meal from my e-bakery, Mr. Teacher.”

The female voice chimed directly into my ear implant as the food-stream display faded away. The light, playful lilt was unmistakable, and for a moment, I froze, blinking in surprise.

“Serena?”

It had been months since I’d last heard her voice—since that mission.

“I didn’t even notice it was your stream!” I said, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t have ordered it if you knew?”

Her tone carried the familiar edge of mock indignation, and I couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“No way. Your food streams are top-tier, Serena. You’ve got a gift.”

“And you’ve still got that crispy, gravelly voice I remember.”

I rubbed the back of my neck instinctively, glancing at the faint reflection of my messy purple hair in the corner of the air-display panel.

“What’s this now? Making fun of me again already? I just woke up, cut me some slack.”

“Nope, little boy,” she replied almost provocatively. “I would never mock our dear pseudo-leader. Well… maybe just a little.”

Despite her stingy remarks, it felt good to hear her again—to remember that the world outside my apartment wasn’t entirely filled with sterile routines and hollow reflections.

“Wanna meet up for a quick ride around the city?” Serena asked, her voice softening slightly, the playful edge fading into something more sincere.

***

Serena and I drifted silently over the city on our airboards, the sound of their engines blending with the distant murmur of Worlderia below.

“So, how are things with you? You know… the check-ups,” I asked, my voice barely cutting through the ambient buzz of the city.

She glanced sideways at me, her icy blue eyes catching the sunlight for just a moment.

“The doctors say there’s nothing extraordinary with me. How about you?”

“Same…”

A brief silence settled between us as our airboards drifted lazily past a glowing traffic grid suspended in midair.

“Maybe the oxygen we breathed wasn’t that polluted,” Serena said finally. “Or maybe it takes more of it—more exposure—to really do something to us.”

“Maybe,” I replied, squinting into the distance. “But it did enter our bodies. You wouldn’t want ricin in your system, even if it was the size of a grain of salt.”

“You’re right. Just like always. You’re so smart, Zehn.”

She smiled then, and I suspected it wasn’t her usual teasing grin.

Something stirred in my chest, an awkward flutter.

I looked away, cheeks heating up.

No wonder—Serena was beautiful. Her sharp nose adorned with a gleaming septum piercing, her big, round eyes that could freeze or melt you in an instant, and that casual confidence she carried like a second skin.

“Oh god, this girl is never gonna stop teasing me,” I muttered under my breath.

“Who are you calling ‘a girl,’ you brat? I’m already 97!”

“Excuse me for being ten years younger, my lady.”

We both laughed, the sound echoing briefly into the open sky. It felt good—normal—like the weight of the past months had been lifted, even if just for a moment.

But then Serena’s laughter faded, and she tilted her airboard downward.

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

We glided down into Skypark, a district suspended halfway between the lower city streets and the upper spires of Worlderia. The area had a timeless charm—a pocket of tradition tucked away in a sea of sterile glass and steel.

Shops and studios were scattered between cobblestone paths, with hand-painted signs proudly displaying their crafts: barbershops, tailors, beauty salons.

We parked our airboards in a wide vacant space near a quiet corner of the park.

“What did you want to show me?” I asked as I stepped off my board, boots clicking softly against the stone pavement.

Serena hesitated for a moment, her hands tucked into the oversized sleeves of her hoodie.

“Rather than show you, I first have to make a confession…”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh god, please don’t ask me out.”

“Shut up, you whiny brat! That’s not what I’m about to say!” she snapped back, but her smirk betrayed her amusement. “Although… it wouldn’t have been that bad.”

She winked, and I groaned dramatically, throwing my hands in the air.

“This girl!”

But her playful expression faded, replaced by something more serious.

“Zehn, do you really think my food streaming is as good as you said earlier?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden vulnerability in her voice.

“Are you kidding? Serena, your food streams are some of the best I’ve ever had. Not every engineer has your talent—it’s more than just programming; it’s… an art.”

She looked down, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she kicked at a loose pebble on the pavement.

“Thanks… I guess. It makes me happy, I guess. But, Zehn, if my meals are really that good, then I shouldn’t just give them away for free via streams, you know?”

I frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small metallic sphere—a Builderite.

Before I could ask, she tossed it into the air.

The Builderite hovered briefly before emitting a bright blue light, crackling with tiny electric arcs. In a matter of seconds, the energy condensed into tangible matter—bricks, mortar, and steel beams materializing in flashes of energy.

When the light faded, a small, skeletal building structure stood in front of us, hollow and waiting to be filled.

“Serena… what is this?” I asked, staring at the half-formed structure.

She crossed her arms, her chin lifted slightly as she admired her work.

“I need to borrow a Furniturite next, so I can equip this place properly—with tables, chairs, and a functional kitchen.”

“A kitchen? For what? And… what do you mean by not giving food away for free?”

Serena turned to face me, her eyes sharp.

“In this world, everyone is equal. It doesn’t matter if you’re talented, skilled, or completely unmotivated—you’ll still have access to the same things as everyone else. Food, shelter, comfort… it’s all guaranteed.”

“Yes, that’s the foundation of our society. That’s… why it works.”

Her voice then grew louder, laced with determination as she took a small step closer.

“Well… You’re my dear friend that I could picture my future with, so, I guess I’ll just tell you. I want more than an average human being gets. I want it all for myself. And I’ll trade it for meals I’m gonna prepare manually here at this building.” She gestured toward the skeletal building and continued. “I think the people of the past called it… a restaurant.”

Chapter 4: END