CHAPTER 1: The Flavor of Progress
In the gleaming metropolis of New Neo York, where the buildings were so tall they needed oxygen masks, progress came in little silver packets.
It was widely agreed that humanity had finally solved the pesky problem of food. Gone were the days of worrying about droughts, locusts, or whether your tomatoes would ripen before the first frost. In fact, gone were tomatoes altogether. And frost. And locusts, though nobody was complaining about that last one.
The year was 2224, and humanity had proudly stepped into an era where dinner was a mathematical equation and lunch was a color-coded series of pills. Breakfast, being the most important meal of the day, came in the form of a mist that you walked through on your way to work.
At the heart of this nutritional revolution was the MegaCorpo Food Replacement Corporation, whose slogan "Eat Smart, Not Hard" was plastered across every surface that wasn't already covered in chrome or digital advertisements for the latest mood-enhancing nasal spray.
In the pristine kitchen of her 457th-floor apartment, Luna Novak was preparing for her morning meal. She opened her NutriCabinet, a sleek device that looked like a cross between a microwave and a small particle accelerator.
"Good morning, Luna," the cabinet chirped in a voice that sounded like it had been designed by a committee who had only ever heard happiness described second-hand. "What fueling experience would you like today?"
Luna sighed. She was feeling adventurous. "Surprise me," she said, immediately regretting her decision.
The NutriCabinet whirred and beeped, its internal mechanisms reconfiguring molecules with the enthusiasm of a toddler playing with building blocks. After precisely 17 seconds (food preparation taking any longer was considered a sign of societal regression), a small tray slid out.
On it sat three items: a pill the color of a sunset on a polluted beach, a cube that somehow looked both translucent and opaque, and a small vial of liquid that seemed to be arguing with the laws of physics.
"Today's breakfast," announced the cabinet with digital pride, "is a Nostalgic Sunrise Vitamin Complex, a Quantum Nutrition Cube with the essence of everything, and a Schrödinger Smoothie that is simultaneously every flavor and no flavor at all. Enjoy your meal!"
Luna looked at her breakfast. Her breakfast looked back at her. She had a sneaking suspicion that the cube was judging her.
As she contemplated the meaning of "essence of everything" (did that include that one terrible date she had in college?), her wallscreen flickered to life, displaying the morning news.
"This is Barbara Newsbot, bringing you the latest in gastronomic technology," said a woman whose hair seemed to defy not just gravity, but several other fundamental forces of nature. "MegaCorpo has announced a breakthrough in flavor simulation. Their new line of SynthiMeals will now taste almost, but not entirely, unlike the food they're named after!"
The screen flashed to a man in a lab coat so white it made fresh snow look grimy. "We're very excited," he said, with all the excitement of a sloth on sedatives. "Our new 'Classic Comfort' line will allow people to experience flavors reminiscent of ancient foods. Imagine tasting something almost, but not quite, entirely unlike chicken!"
Luna popped the sunset pill into her mouth. It tasted of broken promises and misplaced nostalgia.
As she sipped her Schrödinger Smoothie (which somehow left her both satisfied and hungry), Luna gazed out of her window at the cityscape. The buildings stretched into the smog, their tops lost in a haze that was equal parts pollution and hubris. Somewhere, in the distant past, there had been things called 'trees' and 'grass', but such archaic concepts had no place in the chrome and neon future of New Neo York.
Little did Luna know that 426 floors below her, past the foundations of the megascrapers and deep underground, something green was stirring. But that, as they say, is a story for another meal...