Tastes Like Chicken

The bed was inviting, but hunger was stronger. It was a gnawing pain that slowly crawled its way up like a rat in an intestinal track. Liam could ignore it no longer and pulled himself out the door and onto the road. It was late, the overhead lights hanging from the earthen ceiling were dim and the housing block was dark and quiet. Going left would lead back towards the station, but right would provide feeding options.

Based on your nutritional intake Fast ‘n Fried is highly recommended with deals star-

“I don’t care to hear your ads, just lemme pick for myself.”

With the housing blocks there was a conveniently placed market area. The golden glow of restaurants and stores open 24/7 spread out onto the street and gave a warm and welcoming feeling to passersby.

“Hey mini-me, how much can I spend and still break even this month?”

Fast ‘n Fried has deals that—

“Just show me my income and expenses.”

Liam checked to make sure his right eye was open and watched as a graph popped into existence before his face. Money was tight, a janitor’s salary didn’t pay much, but if he kept his expenses down it should be livable to make it to the next paycheck without taking on more debt.

An ad appeared right in his face, overtaking the graph and filling his field of vision. The smell of freshly fried food assaulted his nostrils as an exuberant announcer yelled in his ears, “Fast ‘n Fried’s new deals are INSANE!”

“Hey mini-me, any way to get rid of this ad?”

If you support freedom of sight then support senator Sarah Smith today!

Liam simply sighed and kept walking as that ad and another two after blared in his face.

The Fast ‘n Fried building loomed at the forefront of the market, smells emanating from its golden surface. It glowed with a homely radiance and staged videos of food being cooked popped out from its walls. Liam’s stomach growled.

The inside was warm and bright. Liam sat down and bought the cheapest meal combo possible from a menu that appeared before him. The food was heavily fried, greasy and oily to hide the quality of the meat. It was exactly the sort of typical fast food Liam expected from a joint like this. It was the overprocessed lab-made gunk pumped full of chemicals that delivered an unreasonably large dopamine hit for its lackluster quality and taste. It left the fingers dripping with grease, but at least the bathroom of the restaurant was free.

The walk back home was uneventful. The intestinal rat had been appeased and hunger was abated, but the food sat in the stomach like a cube of tungsten, refusing to be digested and threatening to bite back later. Liam re-entered his cardboard box and simply collapsed on his bed.

You have yet to meet your exercise quota.

“I walked here didn’t I?”

Planetary law—

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, gov law or whatever.”

You have yet to move.

“In a minute.”

There was silence.

It has now been a minute and you have yet to move.

Liam groaned and crawled out of bed.

“Just play the video and I’ll follow along.”

Liam went through the motions without a shred of interest and promptly collapsed back on his bed, staining it with sweat. He stared up at the ceiling.

“Hey mini-me, play something interesting.”

Sure thing! Processing your interests.

The ceiling was saggy and stained.

Content generation complete. Now playing.

Colored images burst to life in the air as a generated show began to start. It was a capitalist’s wet dream, the sort of thing built for any audience and tailored to appeal to the individual. Liam lay and watched, a beached consumer whale, his bored eyes mindlessly eating the slop presented to him. There was no heart or art to it, yet he lay there watching, bored, until the hours grew late and his right eye began to itch. He ignored it at first, but the sensation built in the back of his eye socket until he could ignore it no longer and hauled himself to the bathroom.

Leaning on the sink he closed his right eye, ceasing the endless moving pictures, undid the clasps and carefully pulled the eye out of its socket. He looked at himself in the cracked bathroom mirror, practically more metal than man, so he pulled the clips out of his ears, ceasing the sounds, the plug from his nose, ending the scents, and the clip from his mouth, stopping the taste of clean air. He looked at himself in the mirror again. He had a thin, sharp face with pale skin and a nest of uncombed white hair. His chin was stubbly and there were heavy bags under his remaining left eye. He pushed the hair back from his forehead and observed the lidless and empty right eye socket, and the fleshy eyeball staring dejectedly out of the left. He looked ghastly and too thin to be healthy.

Liam sighed and pulled back from the sink, gathering up the metal clips for his mouth, ears, and nose before discarding them on his table. He picked up his right eye, feeling the weight of its metal surface in his hand, debated, then put it on the table with the rest. Without the augments the air was musty and stale, the floor and ceiling dirty and shabby, and the paper thin walls struggled to block out the noise of the surrounding people. His home was in a trashy state, and he considered doing something about it before simply collapsing back onto his bed.

“Hey mini-me.”

There was only silence.

Liam stared up at the ceiling until sleep finally took him.