Dream's End at Reality's Gate: The Freeway Fare Between Worlds

09 | Missing

As the first light of dawn kissed my eyelids, I stirred from my slumber, the air around me thick with the sweet scent of morning dew. With a heart full of anticipation, I prepared myself to whip up a lavish breakfast for my cherished overnight guests. After getting ready and taking extra, unusual care to behold my best, I headed to the kitchen, humming "...but I would walk 500 miles, And I would walk 500 more, Just to be the girl who walks a thousand miles..."

I asked my AI at the commlink, "What are the recipes for a special morning?"

"Lychee salad and mohinga," the AI replied, "but am afraid that we are out of fish."

I planned to make a first meal to Ada and Joanne, firstly to show my thanks for the help, and then later, another to inform my future guests that I wouldn't be around.

Usually, we had small pantry storage because nearby vertical farms or food facilities delivered most of my ingredients daily, fresh. Our personal AI collectively with New Eden's deep learning algorithms ensures a balanced diet delivered to everyone, but the fish, well I had eaten that already, resource-intensive foods like meat are more moderate.

I had to come up with something creative. I reached for some tubers, a few grains, and then manufacture my own plant-based milk. What else did I have in my fruit bowl? Ah, yes — bananas, boooring.

The fawn, small and brown, bounded through the communal gardens, heralding that the morning had arrived.

I mixed oats, hemp, wheat, and a bit of agave nectar into my granite mill, and added just a touch of water. Then I cranked the handle on the mill to grind it all together, creating my own homemade milk.

Placing my ceramic pot over the inducer cooker, I looked in the fruit basket where my bananas were, and to my surprise, I also found a small packet of blueberries! How sweet. Now I needed a little cinnamon powder.

The pan once seems to be almost burning hot. I put my milk in another pan, and slices of bananas in the pan. Over a low heat, I cooked and stirred a cup of oats, a coffee spoon of fenugreek, and a teaspoon of wheat, all in the vegetable milk. You could now smell the aroma in the air.

From here I can even hear a chat and the water system working, they will be here any moment.

To add a bit of crunch texture to the dish, I added pistachios. I climbed onto the countertop to reach the top cupboard. Being short doesn't help.

Ahhh — the banana will overheat! I implored it, "Stove off!" and it heeded my plea, ceasing its roiling heat at once, while the banana's edges melted into a gooey syrup.

"So here origins this so good trail of mouth-watering bouquet?

"If it isn't our favoured morning meal."

Sounds like I got it right.

I stop Ada from walking into the kitchen, "Please, gals, be my guest."

Joanne sits at the low, warm, walnut veneer table for 6 framed by wooden legs and sturdy rubber. "I can be, just this time."

"Just this time, hum!?" Ada is sitting at the lower table and pulling its attached heavy duvet over her lap.

We sat in legless chairs. This kind of table hides a heather underneath, so on chilly mornings like this, the entire party could be cosy.

"You should too, Ada." I add.

"You are halfway through the recipe, stop doing everything alone." An audible stomach growl filled the room.

I turned 50 shades of red and turn to the stove to stir the porridge, and Joanne tries to hide her giggles.

I dished them porridge using small bowls, small dishes with blueberries and another with pistachio seeds, and turned on the heater under the table.