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I often dream about food.
Medium rare steak with butter, garlic and thyme. A hearty tomato soup and gooey grilled cheese. A plate of glistening, fresh cut fruit— raspberries, blackberries, mango, and a vine of juicy, crunchy grapes. Even Olive Garden’s creamy chicken alfredo (with loads of parmesan cheese).
And all I have are vitamin drinks.
I feel guilty for complaining, even if to no one but myself. I really should have starved to death years ago. Heck, I should be glad that I’m eating literally anything other than that God awful coma slurry, and the even worse Taumoeba. I have nutrients, calories, and a stomachable flavour, that should be enough.
But it isn’t. Not even close
I wish I could say that the thing I miss most about Earth is the ocean or sky or plants, or anything that sounds more poetic, but it’s not.
I miss food.
I miss biting down onto a juicy tangy rack of ribs, or munching on popcorn during a movie. I miss going out to eat with friends— going to a bar and watching a game, or a nice brunch to kickstart a fun day. I miss potlucks at work, and my coworker Elisa’s lasagna. I miss it all.
Eventually, all these years of yearning, dreaming, hungering for food led me to come up with… an idea. It might not be a great idea; heck, it might not even be a good idea. But I’ve reached a limit where this option is starting to make my mouth water.
I pitched the idea to my ‘head chef’, so to speak. I’ve named him Ramsey (for obvious reasons), and he’s the lead of the department of ‘Making Food for the Human that Tastes Good’.
The department’s a small crowd. Any Eridian that wants to work with me would rather do something more interesting, and less gross from their perspective. Surprisingly though, the handful of Eridians who do make the food for me seem to be really into it. There’s a huge amount of chemistry involved— trying to synthesize various compounds and flavours, using starches and sugars and proteins from their environments, and trying to modify it to mimic something like bread, or cake. (They’ve absolutely nailed the flavour of artificial strawberry by the way).
Ramsey thought it to be a… concerning idea, but the Eridians at this point will generally do absolutely anything I ask them to, so they went ahead with it. Using newfound Earth technology that they adapted with their own tools, they’ve acquired the ability to clone and culture cells and tissues. All they needed was a small sample of my muscle to grow it. Because… I want to eat it.
Maybe I’ve finally cracked and gone insane, but who cares! If I have to live the rest of my life drinking these vaguely sweet vitamin shakes I might just get worse.
A couple hours ago, Ramsey told me that they’d cloned enough meat to do a taste test for me, and he’s going to whip it up in a way that I’ll hopefully enjoy. My mouth has been non stop watering at the prospect of eating meat again. Human flesh surely can’t be that different from cow or pig right? Right?
My thoughts are cut off by Ramsey strolling in wearing his pressurized suit. Using some design specs from my Orlan EVA suit, they were able to make suits for themselves to wear in my Earth environment. It’s made living here a lot more manageable, I will say, being able to physically interact with people instead of just talking to them through a wall.
“Hi, Ramsey,” I greet him.
“Hello, Grace,” he says with a slight dip of his carapace. Similar to bowing, it’s a sign of greeting to someone who is ‘above’ you in some regard. I told him that he doesn’t need to, but he absolutely insists on doing it every single time we interact.
“I have four rounds made, with one fully cooked. The other three are frozen at -18 degrees of Celsius, as per Earth guidelines,” he says. He presents me with a plate and I gasp in surprise.
It’s a burger.
An honest to God burger. With the bun and everything.
“I fashioned this meal in a common North American style. I hope this is acceptable.”
I take the plate, and stare at it for a good long moment. It’s almost uncanny how good of a job they did. Eridians do their research well.
“Ramsey, this… this looks absolutely spectacular,” I say in earnest.
“Many thanks. I shall let the team know,” Ramsey tilts his carapace in a small act of pride. He’s not the kind of guy to show emotion on the regular, but I can tell that he’s satisfied with himself when I say he’s done a good job.
I take the plate over to my table, and grab my small container of salt.
Salt has truly been one of my best friends on this foreign world. It is the one sole compound that humans consume for flavour that isn’t produced by an Earthling. Even the sugars that exist here on Erid have to be heavily processed and refined of all heavy metals to allow me to consume safely. But salt, that’s just NaCl, both here and back on Earth.
I take the top bun off and put a little sprinkle on. In the back of my mind I wish I had some ketchup or something, but I know I should be grateful to have anything edible at all.
I eye the patty with a little bit of hesitation. It’s hard to forget that I’m staring at an amalgamation of my own flesh, but it honestly doesn’t look too different. A bit like beef.
Ugh God, I’m about to become a cannibal. An auto-cannibal, I guess. I’ve heard stories of people eating their own body parts for curiosity. One story comes to mind about a guy who got his foot amputated in a motorcycle accident, and made some tacos using the foot-meat. Crazy stuff.
Ramsey gets out an equivalent of a notepad, and settles himself in to watch. It was agreed upon that someone at the very least had to be present while I was doing a taste test, to witness my reaction (and ensure I wasn’t accidentally poisoned). Ramsey, ever the professional, volunteered to watch. He’s the first Eridian who has watched me eat with curiosity, instead of disgust. Even Rocky never fully got used to it.
I pick up the burger and take a halting sniff. Again, it just smells like cooked meat. Maybe this actually won’t be so bad.
I take a bite.
It’s like every vein in my body comes alight with flavour. The smell, texture, taste, all combine into a sensory explosion that I haven’t experienced for years. I actually groan with satisfaction as I chew.
It’s the single most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten in my entire life.
“You are crying!” Ramsey exclaims, and scrambles upright. “It must be terrible! I deeply deeply apologize. I will take this and report back to—”
“No no no,” I laugh wetly. “It’s not bad, it’s good. It’s really really good. It’s…” I sniff and wipe my cheeks, “the best thing I’ve eaten in years.”
Ramsey tilts his carapace in confusion. “You enjoy it?”
I take another bite, probably bigger than necessary, and whimper in delight. It’s smoky, chewy and salty, a flavour combination that I’ve missed so dearly. With my mouth full, I nod. “Mhm.”
“O-Okay…” Ramsey says a little hesitantly. He’s usually so stoic I’ve never seen him get rattled like that before.
It takes every ounce of willpower to not literally inhale the rest of the thing. I finish off the burger in five bites, with a satisfaction that I haven’t felt in a long time. It’s a little piece of home on this foreign world.
“Would you mind cooking up another one of those, please?”