The Vending Machine of Infinite Possibility

END. Back to the (color: #32CD32)[[vending machine->closer look]]?

How could you bear to even think of eating these shrimp, who have become your companions during these dark days? You feel guilty for even having the thought in the first place. (click: ?page)[The first thing you do is immediately go online and buy a larger tank for them, emptying your bank account to give them the best landscape possible, staying up late into the night to read up about how to give pet shrimps a happy and comfortable life.] (click: ?page)[As if sensing your intentions, they gurgle and chirp happily into the night beside you as you browse, and you are comforted by their presence.] (click: ?page)[[[→->day 101]]]

(color: #D2FF28)[The drink rushes through the straw and hits the roof of your mouth.] (click: ?page)+(color: #04D9FF)[As promised, it is ice cold, electrifying all your senses and making you feel more alive than you have been in the past few days.] (click: ?page)+(color: #D2FF28)[It only takes a few seconds for the searing cold to hit the back of your eye, making you cringe in pain and a strange sort of pleasure, as you press your hands to your face.] (click: ?page)+(color: #04D9FF)[But after a few moments, it doesn't subside.] (click: ?page)+(color: #04D9FF)+(text-style:"double-underline")[[It begins to spread.]]

<img src="images/shrimp.png" width="634.5" height="580"> A small globe filled with water catches your eye, with a large cork on the top. It's the last on the shelf, looking a little bit forlorn and lonely. (click: ?page)[Styled as a terrarium, you squint harder to try and make out the sparse and half eaten plants, the thin bed of gravel on the bottom.] (click: ?page)[You see a dart of movement in one of the corners, and then you see that there are two tiny shrimp hiding behind a pathetic little frond, barely the size of your littlest fingernail.] (click: ?page)[Now you know what you are looking for, you manage to count four others in quick succession, making an even six. They all seem to be looking right back at you.] (click: ?page)+(text-colour:white)+(bg:black)[$12.00] (click: ?page)+(color: #32CD32)[>[[You feel a kinship with these creatures and long to free them.]]>[[Perhaps something else.->closer look]]]

<img src="images/soup.png" width="429" height="359"> A simple, unassuming earthenware bowl sits there, slightly overshadowed by the riot of colours all around it. (click: ?page)[Carved deeply into its sides are the words "ERA SOUP", with no other distinguishing features or markers.] (click: ?page)[Perhaps this is one of those quiet luxury kind of things? People are always going on and on about understated design.] (click: ?page)[Yet you sense that this isn't really one of those things. It's more like the kind of bowl you might find at your grandmother's house.] (click: ?page)+(text-colour:white)+(bg:black)[$6.00] (click: ?page)+(color: #32CD32)[>[[Go on, for nostalgia's sake.]]>[[You won't be taken in by their marketing schemes!->closer look]]]

What are they for, if not to be eaten? They aren't exactly an acceptable sort of pet, not like a dog or cat. (click: ?page)[It seems like a poor substitute for human companionship. People always say not to get too attached to things. You wonder what your colleagues might say if they found out. Most people would think it strange.] (click: ?page)[Why not just complete their intended purpose?] (click: ?page)[[→->cooking]]

(color: #D2FF28)[It has a solid heft, almost more substantial, like a minature brick.] (click: ?page)+(color: #04D9FF)[It hurts your eyes to look at it for too long, but on the back, you can make out an ingredients list, while the front holds an illustration of a brain and ice cubes rendered in cartoonish style.] (click: ?page)+(color: #D2FF28)[You think briefly about the glowing drink making its way down your esophagus, dissolving through your stomach, then lighting up your intestine in smaller, more dilute pieces. Like you've swallowed a piece of radioactive material. What will the toilet water look like tomorrow?] (click: ?page)+(color: #04D9FF)[But the desire for the cold, refreshing sweetness trumps reason. You barely even feel the cold anymore, only the desire to taste this cool beverage. There's only one thing left to do.] (click: ?page)+(color: #04D9FF)+(text-style:"double-underline")[[Drink.]]

You feed your bills into the machine's slot... (click: ?page)[Rather than rolling down unceremoniously and getting shaken thoroughly on its way down, a mechanical hand drops down, like a more intricate version of a claw machine.] (click: ?page)[Picking it up, the hand lowers itself, depositing your chosen item delicately into the [[compartment->soup 1]] below...]

<img src= "images/fortunecookies.png" width="484" height="661"> A small bag of foiled plastic in red and yellow, the crinkly kind that makes a racket when opened. A single cookie depicted on the front, in a familiar folded half-moon shape. (click: ?page)[The label is what intrigues you. What kinds of fortunes are in or out?] (click: ?page)[Neither sound particularly pleasant: in-fortune reminds you of misfortune, while out-fortune sounds like it could be a forecast for rainy weather.] (click: ?page)[Still, it's been a while since you had a fortune cookie. It could be fun.] (click: ?page)+(text-colour:white)+(bg:black)[$3.00.] (click: ?page)+(color: #32CD32)[>[[Slip some coins in.]]>[[Peruse the menu again.->closer look]]]

(color: #D2FF28)[Too slowly, the pain begins to ebb and rise, like a tide, remaining a constant.] (click: ?page)+(color: #04D9FF)[Was there something that triggered a kind of allergic reaction? Dimly, you try to move to sit down, or lean against the nearby wall, but you find that you can't move.] (click: ?page)+(color: #D2FF28)[Your limbs seem to have grown stiff, and the sensation is prickling, like an uncontrollable itch that lies under your skin.] (click: ?page)+(color: #04D9FF)[What's happening? You try to fight through the pain to look down, to see what is happening, but you can barely bend your torso – it is fixed in place.] (click: ?page)+(color: #04D9FF)+(text-style:"double-underline")[[Oh god – no – surely not?]]

<img src="images/yakult.png" width="320.5" height="611.5"> A perfectly ordinary Yakult bottle, red and white foil gleaming and neutral beige liquid packed with probiotic goodness. (click: ?page)[Nothing strange at all about it, except that around the neck of the bottle, someone has scribbled in black Sharpie, "KEVIN'S YAKULT - HANDS OFF!"] (click: ?page)[It's surprisingly neat handwriting for such a small bottle. But how did Kevin's Yakult get in there? And why? It doesn't seem out of place, and even has a neat little pricetag.] (click: ?page)[It //is// the cheapest thing in the machine...] (click: ?page)+(text-colour:white)+(bg:black)[$0.50] (click: ?page)+(color: #32CD32)[>[[Kevin might be looking for his Yakult. You'll take it for safekeeping.]]>[[Nah, you're not going to touch that kettle of fish.->closer look]]]

You feed your coin into the machine's slot... (click: ?page)[Rather than rolling down unceremoniously and getting shaken thoroughly on its way down, a mechanical hand drops down, like a more intricate version of a claw machine.] (click: ?page)[Picking it up, the hand lowers itself, depositing your chosen item delicately into the [[compartment->yakult 1]] below...]

(color: #D2FF28)[The tingling and itching has made its way to your ribcage, all these conflicting sensations clarifying into a single point – coldness.] (click: ?page)+(color: #04D9FF)[That's exactly it. The feeling that started in your brain has slowly encompassed every limb and vessel, until all you can feel is the cold.] (click: ?page)+(color: #D2FF28)[It spreads up your neck, up your chin, silencing your mouth before you can even gather yourself to cry for help.] (click: ?page)+(color: #04D9FF)[When it reaches your eyes, the last thing you see while being frozen in place –] (click: ?page)+(color: #04D9FF)+(text-style:"double-underline")[[is the vending machine.]]

<img src="images/space.png" width="465" height="616"> A paper bag dusted with fine glitter, only just discernible when you shift perspective this way and that, under the harsh glare of the white vending machine lights. A spaceship rendered in black and white on the front. (click: ?page)[The title has the kind of drama that you would probably find on a cheap science fiction paperback in a secondhand bookshop.] (click: ?page)[Still, the sound of starburst rocks is especially appealing. You imagine they must mean the kind of candy that fizzes in your mouth once it comes in contact with your saliva. You haven't had any of those since you were a child.] (click: ?page)+(text-colour:white)+(bg:black)[$8.00] (click: ?page)+(color: #32CD32)[>[[You'll take the rocks]].>[[Maybe there's something else you would prefer.->closer look]]]

You feed your coins into the machine's slot... (click: ?page)[Rather than rolling down unceremoniously and getting shaken thoroughly on its way down, a mechanical hand drops down, like a more intricate version of a claw machine.] (click: ?page)[Picking it up, the hand lowers itself, depositing your chosen item delicately into the [[compartment->fortune cookie 1]] below...]

<img src="images/slushie.png" width="504.5" height="649"> This blend of ice somehow seems to glow with a light even brighter than the ones it is already surrounded by. (click: ?page)[A shocking shade of blue, you can already tell that it's the kind that will stain your tongue the exact same colour.] (click: ?page)[Despite the weather, you find yourself craving the sharp tingle of the promised Ultimate Brain-Freeze, the searing pain that accompanies it. Perhaps your mind will be sufficiently cleared after the shock, and you'll be able to turn your life around and get things back on track.] (click: ?page)+(text-colour:white)+(bg:black)[$5.00] (click: ?page)+(color: #32CD32)[>[[The slushie is the one for you.]]>[[You'll keep browsing.->closer look]]]

It's been a long day. (click: ?page)[Woken up before your body had a chance to shed the previous day's worries, you spent most of today hunched over your laptop in a claustrophobic cubicle.] (click: ?page)[Squinting at a screen and typing email after email until the tips of your fingers have grown numb.] (click: ?page)[Then you get pulled into a meeting at the very end of the day, which stretches on until you've missed your (text-colour:#FC6C5F)[[train]] home by over an hour].

(color: #32CD32)[[IN-FORTUNE AND OUT-FORTUNE COOKIES]] (color: #32CD32)[[STARBURST ROCKS FROM THE LAST JOURNEY OF THE CYGNUS-JVIIIX]] (color: #32CD32)[[EDIBLE SHRIMP TERRARIUM - FARM TO TABLE - GROW IT YOURSELF!]] (color: #32CD32)[[ERA SOUP]] (color: #32CD32)[[KEVIN’S YAKULT]] (color: #32CD32)[[THE ULTIMATE BRAIN-FREEZE SLUSHIE]]

Day 12. (click: ?page)[You think that the shrimp have begun to warm to you slightly.] (click: ?page)[When you approach, they cluster over to see what you are doing, and they eagerly await the few flakes that you shake into their bowl.] (click: ?page)[It's only been twelve days, but you swear that they have gotten a little bigger, enough that you can make out more of the shape of their bodies, all a soft raw pink shot through with red veins.] (click:?page)[[[→->day 25]]]

Day 25. (click: ?page)[You re-read the sparse little pamphlet which has become a little wrinkled over the days, and has a brown stain on one of the pages, probably from some kind of soy sauce or coffee.] (click: ?page)[Apparently, these shrimp have been genetically bred for maximum sweetness and tenderness, and are "preshelled", leaving their soft innards exposed to the elements. The pamphlet reminds you that these shrimp would not survive alone in the wild.] (click: ?page)[You have no reason to doubt this piece of information, especially given how delicate and soft these shrimp look, but you can't seem to find anything about them online.] (click: ?page)[[[→->day 42]]]

Day 42. (click: ?page)[The shrimp have grown again. Both in size and playfulness, and they no longer seem scared of you, often clustering around to get your attention by doing circles in the water and waving their antennae. Any larger, and you are sure they will outgrow their bowl, unable to turn without brushing against each other.] (click: ?page)[You are most surprised by the changes they have wrought in you in such a short span of time.] (click: ?page)[The other day, someone announced the dates of your annual work trip; despite it being months away, your mind immediately jumped to – who would feed the shrimp?] (click: ?page)[[→->day 70]]

Day 70. (click: ?page)[Before you know it, the fateful day has arrived.] (click: ?page)[The shrimp are nearly filling the bowl in a grotesquely squashed manner, all vegetation entirely destroyed, and no landscape to speak of.] (click: ?page)[The pamphlet says, of Day 70: "After 70 days, the shrimp should be sufficiently grown, and are ready for you to enjoy. Your journey with these shrimp has come to an end, embodying from farm to table in its purest sense. We hope you have enjoyed this experience, and your meal.] (click: ?page)[Only one choice remains.] (click: ?page)[> [[Eat]]> [[Don't eat]]]

You pick yourself up off the floor, and turn your back on all of it. How to change your life when you are unable to even face what needs to be changed? (click: ?page)[You wish that something would enter your life, and turn it upside down. To take you away from this place, to change your circumstances, to do something about it all.] (click: ?page)[You decide to take a walk. Maybe some fresh air will clear your head. Some food, a little drink. Maybe that would (text-colour:#FC6C5F)[[help]].]

It's a vending machine, a shiny and new one humming quietly to itself at the side of the train station. (click: ?page)[Strange.] (click: ?page)[There shouldn't even be any electricity running through here anymore. What's all this then?] (click: ?page)[You step closer to take a (color: #E8EC67)[[look]].]

You squeeze into the subway, practically face to face with your fellow commuters, packed into these tin cans like dead-eyed fish, the stench of stale breath wafting through the enclosed space. (click: ?page)[Walking up a street where half the streetlights are no longer working, but you are too tired to be scared by shadows. Angry shouts from one of your neighbours, one of their long-suffering arguments flaring up again.] (click: ?page)[A weathered door and a keyhole that sticks. Trash bags in the entrance that you forgot to take down in your hurry to leave this morning. A general air of exhaustion, messiness about the (text-colour:#FC6C5F)[[place.]]]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[The packet is light and crinkly in your hand, and you pocket it before heading on your merry way (color: blue)[[home->fortune cookie 2]].]

Day 5. (click: ?page)[It's been five days since the shrimps have entered your life. You only just recalled them before you left for work this morning, and you can't be certain, but they seem a little bit more lively.] (click: ?page)[Work is work. There is nothing much to say, and the day passes uneventfully, but exhaustingly. Still, it's been days since you managed to get home at a decent time.] (click: ?page)[When you reach home, greasy takeout in tow, you see the shrimps, the only spark of colour in this dismal apartment. Instead of putting on your usual sitcom, you sprinkle some flakes into the shrimp's bowl, and eat with them.] (click: ?page)[[→->day 12]]

When you step out, the night air has developed a chilly edge. (click: ?page)[You're too lazy to go back up to get your jacket, so you resign yourself to your fate, rubbing your arms as you make your way to the neighbourhood convenience (color: #E8EC67)[[store]].]

How did things get to this point? (click: ?page)[You drop your bag and sink to the floor.] (click: ?page)[Even just being confronted by the mess of your life is overwhelming. There are so many things to do that it's impossible to know where one //should// even start. The knowing that after doing all of it, things will just repeat themselves.] (click: ?page)[It would be easy to ignore it all as you usually do. But today, you know that the stress of it all would drive you mad.] (click: ?page)[But what to (text-colour:#FC6C5F)[[do]]?]

The next day, a street sweeper encounters your twisted form, frozen in your last moments of agony. (click: ?page)[They are baffled. Looking around to see if any cameras are trained on them. Is this some kind of prank? It's not cold enough for ice to have formed, much less in the shape of an entire person.] (click: ?page)[Surveying this pristine block of ice, somewhat understanding that no one else is around them, they reach out to touch you, a hesitant finger trembling.] (click: ?page)[You're cold, but you [[no longer feel it]].]

When you get closer, you see that the side of the machine is emblazoned with a strange slogan in lime green. It could almost be mistaken for graffiti if the words were not so crisp and clear. <img src="images/vendingmachine.png" width= "639" height= "1024"> (click: ?page)[(color: #32CD32)[//DO YOU WANT TO CHANGE YOUR LIFE?//]] (click: ?page)[A strange echo of your earlier words. But you suppose that the sentiment is not all that special – there must be countless people looking to cash in on those who want an escape from their current lives.] (click: ?page)[You peer into the slick and unmarred glass, trying to make out what they are (color: #32CD32)[[selling]].]

They could have sworn it was just the gentlest of touches, but the moment their skin makes contact with the ice, it sticks slightly, then just as they pull apart in reflex, a tiny chip of ice comes away. (click: ?page)[A crack begins to grow on your shoulder, spiderwebbing and spinning outwards until it travels from head to toe.] (click: ?page)[The streetsweeper freezes, but then steps back, alarmed. That tiny movement is enough to send you crumbling into dust, into a million little chips of ice [[on the ground]].]

Practically steaming with a sense of your own self-righteousness and mostly from self-pity, you wander off aimlessly. But you can't help thinking - what kind of relationship does the store owner have with their daughter? What kind of family are they? (click: ?page)[These sorts of questions plague you until you find yourself at the defunct train station at the edge of your sprawling suburb.] (click: ?page)[There's nothing to see here. It's old and falling apart, and trains haven't passed through in twenty years. If you were younger, or had a little more capacity for curiosity, you might have ignored the tattered //KEEP OUT// sign and boldly gone in to investigate.] (click: ?page)[But it's too much trouble now. And it's getting cold.] (click: ?page)[You are about to turn away and head back home when something catches your (color: #E8EC67)[[eye]].]

They stare, open-mouthed, at the horrors wrought. They consider picking up their broom to sweep away the mess, but then decide against it. (click: ?page)[The rising sun will get rid of any evidence more quickly than they ever could.] (click: ?page)[They walk away hastily, trying to pretend that nothing ever happened.] (click: ?page)[You melt slowly into the concrete sidewalk, disappearing into the cracks and seeping into the road, then evaporating upwards, into the grey skies above.] (click: ?page)[[*]]

Half-empty bottles of fizzy drinks, alcohol, sports drinks. (click: ?page)[A wilted bunch of carrots on the kitchen counter next to a bunch of blackened carrots. Victims of your intention to try to make something healthy, forgotten in favour of the stinking cartons of half-eaten meals and greasy plastic boxes.] (click: ?page)[What seems like your entire wardrobe strewn across the back of your sofa, with clothes in various states of clean, worn once but not dirty enough to wash yet, and desperately needs a wash.] (click: ?page)[It's not much, but at last, it is something like (text-colour:#FC6C5F)[[home]].]

Upon first glance, nothing seems particularly out of the ordinary. Colourful packaging advertising junk food of various descriptions, other things that seem perfectly ordinary, like a pack of tissues or flavoured chewing gum. (click: ?page)[Some items have already been sold out, leaving only empty labels and a glimpse into the darkness of the machine's internal workings.] (click: ?page)[Only six items remain, sitting quietly in the hiss and hum of mechanics, as if patiently waiting their turn.] (click: ?page)[You scrounge at the bottom of your pockets and find that you have enough change to get something. You decide to take a (color: #32CD32)[[closer look]].]

You gently retrieve the globular object, trying not to shake the shrimp within too much. Up close, their circumstances aren't much better. (click: ?page)[One of the rotting aquatic plants is shaken loose and drifts to the top, narrowly knocking one of the shrimp in the process.] (click: ?page)[There is a sense that you are holding six little lives in your hands, with the power to do anything to them.] (click: ?page)[Carefully, you cradle them with both hands and then walk all the way back [[home->shrimp 2]].]

Once home, you place them carefully on your living room table, and detach the flimsy flyer that serves as some kind of instruction manual, along with a tiny packet of food that you are supposed to give them a few flakes of every day. (click: ?page)["At the end of the 70 days of nurture, you should end up with several plump and well-fed shrimp to make a delicious meal."] (click: ?page)["See the recipes attached for some inspiration!"] (click: ?page)[The shrimp seem to be looking around curiously from their little bowl at their new surroundings. You uncork the stopper and leave it aside, to give them some air. For good measure, you sprinkle a few flakes in, counting them as they go in. You watch them eat, then turn off the lights, and [[go to bed]].]

(color: #D2FF28)[You reach into the flap and retrieve your drink.] (click: ?page)+(color: #04D9FF)[ It seems to glow in your hand.] (click: ?page)+(color: #D2FF28)[The straw that accompanies it slides satisfyingly into the plastic film atop it, almost as if it is being sucked into the cold liquid.] (click: ?page)+(color: #04D9FF)+(text-style:"double-underline")[[Examine the drink.]]

You lift the soup bowl out of the compartment below. Strangely, it is piping hot and you can't really see how it managed to get heated up so quickly between being airlifted and making its way into your hands. (click: ?page)[A plastic soup spoon, rather at odds with the look of the bowl, is attached by a bit of clear sticky gum to the side. You pluck off the spoon, but the glue leaves an unwelcome residue.] (click: ?page)[Entirely uncovered, steam begins to rise into the cool air. You'd better drink it while it's still hot. You feel a slight annoyance: how on earth did the manufacturers think people were supposed to carry bowls of soup around? Isn't the point of a vending machine convenience, not further trouble?] (click: ?page)[You take a seat on a nearby bench, and take your [[first sip]].]

The bag looks quite charming in person, and the glitter doesn't stick to your fingers the way it does with other cheap types of packaging. (click: ?page)[You tear it open to examine what lies within.] (click: ?page)[The candies themselves aren't particularly inspiring. Dull little grey rocks about the size of a small marble, looking like crumbled bits of concrete.] (click: ?page)[You put the [[first one]] into your mouth as you walk home.]

//CLOSED.// (click: ?page)[Closed? In all your years here, you have never seen the store closed before. You try to peer into the darkness, trying to see if they have gone out of business or if they will be back again.] (click: ?page)[You take another look at the sign, reading the smaller words underneath the big sign. //CLOSED FOR MY DAUGHTER'S WEDDING. BACK ON FRIDAY.//] (click: ?page)[Most people do have lives, after all. You feel both embarrassed and a sense of anger. Don't they know that their place in society is important? What are hardworking people like yourself supposed to do, without even a convenience store to rely (color: #E8EC67)[[on]]?]

Your boss catches you at the very end of the day to discuss a minor point, which inevitably turns into him showing you pictures of his car on his phone and you nodding desperately as you try to make obvious glances at the wall clock. (click: ?page)[The cleaners are already loudly vacuuming in the office by the time you escape your boss' clutches. They stare blankly at you as you leave dirty footprints in the freshly cleaned (text-colour:#FC6C5F)[[floor]].]

It is pleasingly light in your hand. (click: ?page)[The foil glints invitingly.] (click: ?page)[It would be so easy to drink it...] (click: ?page)[>[[What's the harm?]]>[[No way. You're just keeping this safe for Kevin.]]]

You carefully place the shrimp bowl beside the stove. Their bloated bodies looking helplessly through the glass, unable to do anything about their impending fate. (click: ?page)[You barely cook for yourself, so you've chosen the recipe that's simplest: shrimp fried rice. Leftover rice is the key, with a little butter, a lot of garlic, some finely sliced spring onions, all tossed together until you're ready for the main event.] (click: ?page)[The kitchen is just beginning to smell fragrant, and you turn off the fire to attend to the shrimp.] (click: ?page)[[[→->cook 2]]]

You drain the water from the shrimp, then rinse them. Their translucent bodies are limp, twitching now and then to signify that they are still somewhat alive, slowly choking from the lack of oxygen. (click: ?page)[It's the first time you've touched them, and the slimy, gelatinous feeling is slightly unpleasant.] (click: ?page)[All the more reason to get it over with.] (click: ?page)[You drop them into the pan, and they hit it with a sizzling snap, meat pinkening.] (click: ?page)[All six will make for a hearty meal, and you crack in an egg before stirring in some salt and pepper, to taste.] (click: ?page)[[[→->eat final]]]

When you sit down to eat, you find that the rice is a little hard, and the eggs could have been cooked a little longer, but the shrimp are absolutely delicious. (click: ?page)[Perfect little balls that seem to burst when your skin pierces them, the lack of any fuss or shell certainly a draw to devour more of these things. You are sure that this must be some kind of strange market test, and that you'll see more of these in the future.] (click: ?page)[You devour everything in a blink, down to the last rice grain, and have to stop yourself from licking the plate clean.] (click: ?page)[After your hunger has subsided, you feel a little bad about devouring them, but you wonder if you might wander down to the train station again to get another shrimp terrarium...] (click: ?page)[[[→->eat ending]]]

The next day, you wake up with the worst food poisoning of your life. (click: ?page)[Throwing up from both ends, and a fever so high that you wonder if you will ever make it out of this alive.] (click: ?page)[It's the shrimp, you know. This is their revenge.] (click: ?page)[When you finally resurface from your ill haze a week later, you open your email to see that you have been fired because everyone had assumed you had quit, since you didn't even bother to send in a sick note. Several emails, in escalating concern and then indifference, from your manager.] (click: ?page)[[[→->eat end]]]

Life moves on. You get a new job somewhere equally bad, with hours that are just as terrible. You find friends, lose them, keep in and out of touch with your already estranged family. (click: ?page)[One thing is certain – since that day, you can barely stand the sight of a shrimp, much less eat one ever again.] (click: ?page)[[*]]

Day 101. (click: ?page)[Thirty days after getting some proper space and more nourishment, the shrimp look better than ever, and they are thriving.] (click: ?page)[By far, the highlight of your day is coming home after a long, endless day, and staring at their beautiful tank, revelling in the slow, methodical taking care of the plants and the shrimp themselves.] (click: ?page)[The time you spend online has changed from scrolling endlessly through social media to looking at different tank setups, comparing the merits of two different water pumps. Your life has been given purpose, a kind of joy.] (click: ?page)[[[→->day 164]]]

Day 164. (click: ?page)[It had to happen sooner or later, but you've given all the shrimp names, after the seven dwarves in Snow White.] (click: ?page)[You can distinguish each of them visually, all six of them very slightly different in their own way. One with an extra whisker, another with a lopsided eye, and so on. They have each grown to the size of a small cat, swimming in large tanks that take up most of the room.] (click: ?page)[You press your tired face up against the glass, and happily, Dopey, secretly your favourite shrimp whose face seems to be curled up in a little smile, comes over to nuzzle the pane.] (click: ?page)[[[→->day 366]]]

Day 366. (click: ?page)[Life has been divided into "before shrimp" and "after shrimp". Nearly a year after you got the shrimp, and your house became a large shrimp farm, you say goodnight to each of them, reaching in to their tanks to pat them lovingly, before tucking yourself into bed.] (click: ?page)[But in the middle of the night, you are woken by a clattering, and then a squelch. The light in the living room, which you are sure you turned off before you went to sleep, is now on.] (click: ?page)[[[→->shrimp end 1]]]

Blearily, and somewhat in a panic, you stumble out of bed and go to check on the shrimps in case something bad has happened to them. Perhaps Sleepy got too rambunctious in his tank and knocked it over when he was practicing acrobatics again? But nothing in the world has prepared you for what you are about to see. (click: ?page)[The shrimp are all out of their tanks, and their heads are pressed together in some kind of intense conversation. You rub your eyes, wondering if you are still dreaming.] (click: ?page)[When they see you standing there, their tone turns lighter as they go toward you, all squelching and swarming to greet you.] (click: ?page)[[[→->shrimp end 2]]]

"There was no need to get out of bed!" Happy says. The shrimp's voice is high and warbling, as if he's not quite used to words yet. (click: ?page)["We are perfectly fine," Sneezy reaches out one of his many legs to pat you, the soft thing lying limp on your shoulder. "Go back to sleep."] (click: ?page)[You can barely form a sentence. Only sounds are leaving your mouth, barely noticeable as words.] (click: ?page)["It's time to go to bed," Doc and Dopey usher you back into your bedroom. "You've taken such good care of us, it's time for us to take care of you."] (click: ?page)[[[→->shrimp end 3]]]

"And that's how I arrived here in the first place," you say. (click: ?page)[You are sitting in a beautifully comfortable house - a long way from the tiny apartment you used to live in. Crosslegged on a plush rug that you can sink your fingers into, and telling your story to two tiny children, who are open-mouthed at the tale.] (click: ?page)[The world changed significantly after the shrimp gained sentience. Inspired by revolutionary fervour, your house was turned into a shrimp farm in earnest, as the shrimp bred more of their brethren.] (click: ?page)[They were careful not to let you hear any of their plans, likely to shield you from the worst of it, but you sensed something was going on. They said they wanted to take care of you, and it was the first time that anyone had ever said so.] (click: ?page)[[[→->shrimp end 4]]]

So when the end of the world arrived, you were fairly insulated from it all. Protected by shrimp guards in steel plate armour, wielding guns outside your house, watching the world transformed by raw, pink shrimp who were tired of how humans were running things. (click: ?page)[Would you have done anything different? Were you to be considered a race traitor? Would anyone know? You were kept awake with these questions, night after night, until finally, the war was over.] (click: ?page)[Now, you are the gilded and beloved pet, while your six shrimp rule and shape the world to their liking.] (click: ?page)[[[→->shrimp end 5]]]

You leave the children to their own devices and look out towards the new world. (click: ?page)[The shrimp are dedicated to reclaiming human land, demolishing it to create more natural spaces, to helping more of their fellow sea-creatures thrive.] (click: ?page)[From the house's beautiful vantage point, overlooking the ocean, the sun sparkles and glitters, uncaring that the age of man is at an end.] (click:?page)[[*]]

At least the soup looks quite delicious. Nestled in your lap, the scent wafts upwards and makes your mouth start to water. Vegetables are dotted across its creamy surface, and it seems to be some kind of corn or potato potage. (click: ?page)[You spoon some into your mouth and you taste the real cream and butter that has been used to make this, but you begin to get flashes of something else, and the sensation of not being in your own body fills every pore.] (click: ?page)[You see fields of golden wheat in front of you, and up in the distance, the kind of old castle that you've only seen on postcards and in paintings. In your hands is the familiar weight of a hoe, something you can manipulate expertly, that you somehow know intimately.] (click: ?page)[[→->1st sip pt 2]]

There is sweat on your brow from the sun overhead, and your muscles ache, in the tired way of a full day's work. Someone is singing in the background, a simple folk tune that you've heard before. Smiling, you lift your hoe again, and join in with the singing. (click: ?page)[How strange. It was almost as if you were really there, feeling the sun on your skin, smelling the threshed wheat around you.] (click: ?page)[You take a [[second sip]].]

You are warm and cosy in bed, but there is a pressing need to wake up at the back of your mind. A faint dripping comes from the window and you open your eyes to see a flurry of white against the glass. You wake up to see the world blanketed in snow. Whatever you need to do can wait another few minutes, as you stare at the quiet world, unblemished snow falling like a soft blanket over the sleeping earth. (click: ?page)[After you resurface from this second vision you feel an intense sense of calm spread within you, like the warmth of the soup.] (click: ?page)[You don't know who these people are, but it's easy to step into their skin, as if these experiences are all things you have felt yourself before.] (click: ?page)[You take a deep breath, and a [[third sip]].]

You are weakened, injured. Disoriented as you lie there in a smoke filled room, flames licking at you. You clutch at something in your hand – the hilt of a sword, a shield abandoned somewhere. Your legs are pinned down by a stone pillar of some kind. You hear the sound of a clash further behind or beside you, but no longer have the strength to care very much. The fire will kill you before your injuries. (click: ?page)[After the peace and quiet of the previous image, you are shocked by this, and reflexively cough, trying to clear the non-existent smoke from your lungs.] (click: ?page)[You take a [[fourth sip]], to wash the taste of smoke away.]

Then you are whisked away onstage, singing in front of a small crowd for your town's anniversary. Your knees are weak and you are sweating uncontrollably, but when the piano starts up, it's all muscle memory. You open your mouth, and the first pure note emerges, ringing through the hall. Thank goodness you've practiced. (click: ?page)[Deep in the recesses of your memory, you seem to remember an anecdote like this. Someone, one of your grandparents, must have told you this story countless times, so much so that even if you will never know the exact details, you know its shape intimately, your grandparent's emotions becoming your own.] (click: ?page)[You think you begin to know the shape of this soup, too, and what it is all trying to show you. Eager to see if you are proven right, you take a [[fifth sip]], your spoon scraping the bottom of the bowl already.]

You are saying goodbye to someone at a train station. Hot tears flowing down your cheeks, and kisses exchanged. In the distance, the train whistles. It is about to depart. But your heart is breaking, it is about to crumble to pieces right here. You have known no greater pain in your life. The train disappears into the distance, a small dot vanishing. (click: ?page)[And now you have come to slightly more recent history. You know that the person you have briefly inhabited is your mother, and that while she doesn't know it at that point, you know that she is pregnant with you, a fact that she will find out just a few weeks after she parts from your father.] (click: ?page)[You just wish that the soup had allowed you to see your father's face, but of course, that would be impossible.] (click: ?page)[You put the spoon and bowl [[down]].]

You get up from the bench, and are filled with a sudden urge to call your mother. (click: ?page)[You haven't spoken in some weeks, and you feel quite guilty about that. You have been too busy, but even on the weekends, you somehow can't muster the energy to ring her on the phone and engage with her. Mostly, she talks about wanting you to move home.] (click: ?page)[You stop for a moment. Perhaps moving home wouldn't be so bad. After all, what kind of life are you living out here?] (click: ?page)[You think about your mother. All alone in your childhood home, missing you.] (click: ?page)[Impulsively, you take your phone, and [[call your mother]].]

It's late, but your mother picks up after just a few rings. (click: ?page)["Mum? Hello? Did I wake you?"] (click: ?page)[She hurriedly says that she was awake anyway, and asks after how you are doing. You talk as you walk back home, and as your mother goes on, the seed of an idea begins to bloom in your mind.] (click: ?page)[Perhaps going home wouldn't be so bad after all. If decades, centuries of ancestors have survived this long, all descending in a long, unbroken line to yourself, then there might be hope yet for you.] (click: ?page)[[*]]

Whoever Kevin is, he shouldn't have been so careless as to leave his Yakult around and have it end up in a vending machine. (click: ?page)[To be honest, you've paid for it, so you feel like you deserve it, even if it was just 50 cents.] (click: ?page)[You shake it vigorously and tear off the lid before you can change your mind.] (click: ?page)[The familiar sweet liquid travels down smoothly, the yogurty-sourness leaving a refreshing taste in your mouth.] (click: ?page)[[Ahhhh.....]]

You grip onto it tightly all the way home, as if someone will suddenly jump out of you from the shadows and try to grab it from you. (click: ?page)[By the time you get back, the Yakult is lukewarm and a little sweaty from your palm, the ink of Kevin's name slightly smudged.] (click: ?page)[Not really an appealing drink, but it's yours now.] (click: ?page)[You don't really know what to do with it now, or how you could find Kevin to return his Yakult to him.] (click: ?page)[Shrugging, you put it at the back of your fridge, and [[forget about it]]...]

"Hey!" a voice behind you calls. (click: ?page)[You whip around, a wave of guilt washing over you – the rusty sensation of being caught doing something you're not supposed to do.] (click: ?page)[A young man in a grey hoodie jogs over to you, pointing at the bottle in your hand.] (click: ?page)["Hey, isn't that mine?"] (click: ?page)[You stay frozen in place. There's nothing you can say, the Sharpie is clearly turned outwards, so there is no possibility of a misunderstanding.] (click: ?page)[["Uhhhhh..."]]

The young man stops and shakes his head mournfully as he looks at the bottle. (click: ?page)["I was saving that for later..." he says.] (click: ?page)["I'm sorry..." you stammer. "I'll buy you another one?"] (click: ?page)["It won't be the same..." he looks off into the distance. "Nothing could ever be the same."] (click: ?page)[He takes off suddenly, on a fast jog. Soon, he [[disappears]] from sight.]

You trudge back home, still feeling vaguely guilty. (click: ?page)[You crawl into bed, lactobacillus bacteria churning happily in your empty stomach.] (click: ?page)[[*]]

... (click: ?page)[...] (click: ?page)[...] (click: ?page)[...] (click: ?page)[...] (click: ?page)[[Five years later...]]

You are staring out of the floor to ceiling windows of your new apartment. (click: ?page)[So much has changed in the last few years.] (click: ?page)[An aunt you didn't know you had died, and somehow remembered your childhood self fondly, leaving all her savings to you. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough buffer for you to triumphantly quit your job and take a year off work to figure out what you wanted to do next.] (click: ?page)[Two years into a job you love, you've finally saved up enough to buy a house, with a view of the city skyline. [[It's been a strange, but rewarding ride]].]

You have just put the final touches in place, and now the place really feels like home. (click: ?page)[Your stomach rumbles. You open the fridge to see what you have, but of course, you don't have any groceries yet.] (click: ?page)[There's only one thing at the very back of your fridge, which has followed you from move to move, that you can't bear to throw out because it reminds you of your past.] (click: ?page)[[Kevin's Yakult.]]

It's long expired, but thanks to diligent refrigeration, remains largely the same colour, with only a little discolouration near the top. (click: ?page)[You reach in to grab hold of it -] (click: ?page)[- But suddenly the world shifts underneath your feet, a humongous shaking that makes you slide back and wonder if there is an earthquake happening.] (click: ?page)[The lights flicker, and you hear a loud commotion from somewhere else in the building.] (click: ?page)[You duck underneath your dining table and try to [[shield your head]].]

The ground is still shaking, but this doesn't feel like an earthquake. The shaking is too methodical and even. (click: ?page)[You peer out from under the table legs, to see what is going on in the rest of the city.] (click: ?page)[A long shadow unusual for the time of day looms over the buildings. You strain to see what has caused it. One of the buildings collapsing? A terrorist attack?] (click: ?page)[The sounds are getting louder, almost as if the thing is getting closer.] (click: ?page)[Then out of the corner of your eye, you see it –] (click: ?page)[A huge monster, a grotesque looking slime that seems to harden and ooze at will, making its way [[through the city...]]]

Just your luck. Of course, just as you feel like you're finally getting your life somewhere you want it to be, everything comes crashing down around you. (click: ?page)[You're half resigned to your fate, when you suddenly see a colourful figure fly right across the length of the windows, zooming past so quickly that you think it must be some kind of missile or large bird.] (click: ?page)[You crawl a little further to try and see what it is.] (click: ?page)[The figure dives straight into the ooze, and then, a flash of light. Part of the ooze explodes, making the large figure stagger and take a step back.] (click: ?page)[[Is this some kind of superhuman?]]

Suddenly, it's like your window has transformed into the largest immersive television screen, and you watch as the superhero pummels the monster into the largest open park in the city, trying to keep it in the ring and away from the buildings. (click: ?page)[You get your phone out to record this, you hear cheers and shouts.] (click: ?page)[But just as you try to hit the camera button, a large chunk of ooze comes flying directly towards you, about to hit your apartment in a direct strike.] (click: ?page)[Oh god, you think. [[It's over for real]]. You close your eyes.]

But the impact never comes. Instead, you get to see the superhero up close, preventing the giant clod from hitting your apartment. (click: ?page)[Thank you! You gasp. And - good luck!] (click: ?page)[The superhero gives you a grim thumbs up, then uses the clod of ooze as a missile, throwing it back at the monster and landing a devastating blow.] (click: ?page)[You watch the fight avidly, your heart beating out of your chest. Every blow that the hero takes, every smackdown of the monster, you are willing him so hard to win that your whole body is tensed up, in terrible, terrible [[anticipation]].]

But you can tell that the superhero is tiring. The monster is dwindling, but it seems to be endlessly reforming, not quite yet done with the fight. (click: ?page)[You see the superhero miss a dodge when trying to defend a school bus of kids at the same time, and that split second is just enough for the monster to slap the hero flying like an annoying bug.] (click: ?page)[The superhero's body rakes through the glass of an office building, and then with a mighty thump, your windows have been destroyed, and you are lying there in a cloud of dust.] (click: ?page)[You sit up, coughing. You can see the superhero's body near the stairs, stirring slowly. You crawl over, trying to [[get to him]].]

The superhero is coughing up plaster dust from the beautiful feature wall you just renovated. (click: ?page)[Sorry about this, he apologises. I thought the fight would be easier, but... I'm not as strong as I used to be.] (click: ?page)[You want to shout at him and say that he is all you have, that there's hardly time for this when something is about to eat the entire city, but instead you try to nod sympathetically.] (click: ?page)[If only I had my Yakult... the superhero says. I lost it a long time ago. I put it in a vending machine for safekeeping, I thought no one would find it there...] (click: ?page)[But when I went back for it in the time I needed it most... it was [[gone]].]

You can't believe your ears. Is your name Kevin? You ask, almost shouting from excitement. (click: ?page)[What? No one is supposed to know that. The superhero looks suspiciously at you.] (click: ?page)[You ignore him, instead crawling over the rubble to get to your fridge.] (click: ?page)[You can hear the monster approaching, beginning to loom over the building, and you have to hurry, throwing away the rocks and light fixtures that block off the fridge.] (click: ?page)[Then finally, there it is. You reach in, and then throw it at the superhero, just as the monster is [[inches away]] from your house.]

You don't even see if the superhero has had time to drink it before the monster's movements kick up a cloud of dust, and a piece of rubble from the ceiling hits your head and knocks you out... [[...]]

When you next wake up, you are in the hospital. Your leg is propped up in a sling above you, and the drone of news in the background. (click: ?page)[There is the quiet noise of pages being turned beside you, and you raise your head to see who else is in the room.] (click: ?page)[Sitting there in a chair is young man with thick, black rimmed glasses, reading the newspaper as if he has all the time in the world.] (click: ?page)[You try to say something, but your voice is rusty, and a low groan emerges instead.] (click: ?page)[Oh, he says. [[You're awake]].]

He gets up to give you some water. (click: ?page)[You sip slowly at the liquid, and your furred tongue slowly registers the taste – it's not water, but Yakult.] (click: ?page)[You're-! you say, almost choking on the drink.] (click: ?page)[Shh! He holds a finger to his lips and looks around to make sure no one has heard you. He turns back to you and smiles.] (click: ?page)[I'm so glad you're awake, he says. I'm Kevin. I never got your name, by the way. But it's nice to meet you.] (click: ?page)[[*]]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[You put the water on to boil to make some instant noodles. Meanwhile, you open the packet of cookies to take the edge off your hunger.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[Three crescent-shaped cookies sit neatly on an old yellow plate with a small chip at the side.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[Which will you open first?] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[>[[First]]>[[Second]]>[[Third]]]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[You open the first cookie, expecting to see the familiar white slip of paper.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[There's nothing inside.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[You shake both ends of the cookies, but they are hollow as hollow can be. Some kind of manufacturing error, clearly.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[You feel (color: blue)[[cheated!->fortune cookie 2]]] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[[All of them open?]]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[You crack open the second cookie. There are two slips of paper in here, not one.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[At first you think that there's been a mistake, but the division of both slips seems too purposeful to be an accident.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[The first slip says... Follow your heart.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[The second slip says... Love will follow.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[Typically vague, as you might expect of these cookies.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[You open (color: blue)[[another.->Third]]] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[[All of them open?]]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[The third cookie reveals two slips of paper, printed neatly in half.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[The first slip says... Steady your hands.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[The second slip says... Achieve your dreams.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[The usual stuff about life, you assume. The noodles boil quietly beside you.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[You open (color: blue)[[[another.->Second]]]] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[[All of them open?]]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[You nibble at the cookies, which are slightly soft and stale, but still with that familiar orange fragrance.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[You put the soup powder in your pot of noodles, and the seasoning oil. For good measure, you crack in an egg and stir in some frozen green onions.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[As you wait for everything to bubble up, you push the pieces of paper around, mixing and matching them up.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[It's not that the sentiment behind these cookies is wrong - you wish that life were that simple.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[You amuse yourself by coming up with (color: blue)[[different configurations]].]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[You choose one of the halves.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[>(color: blue)[[Follow your heart]]>(color: blue)[[Steady your hands]]]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[And match it to one of the second halves.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[>(color: blue)[[Love will follow]]>(color: blue)[[Achieve your dreams]]]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[And match it to one of the second halves.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[>(color: blue)[[Love will follow-> follow 1]]>(color: blue)[[Achieve your dreams-> dreams 1]]]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[A silly thing, but you keep the two pieces you've chosen and sweep everything else into the rubbish. You pin your fortune to the corkboard on the wall in the living room, which you inherited from the previous tenants and which had remained empty until tonight.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[Something to think about.] (click: ?page)[[→->love 1]]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[Life goes on, and one day, after work, you find yourself staring at an empty fridge once again.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[You scroll through a bevy of delivery apps, but none of the restaurants really catch your eye. The only thing you are craving at the moment is a hearty stew. Not thickened with starch or any of those artificial things, but made from real stock, full of real meat and vegetables.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[Back to the (color: blue)[[convenience store]] it is, then.]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[Today's the day.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[It's taken you exactly 382 days, but you've finally mustered up the courage to quit your job.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[You've been confronted with that damn slip of paper, which you moved to the back of your front door, every day before you leave the house. Follow your heart, it says. Achieve your dreams.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[To be honest, it's gotten quite yellowed from being in the direct sunlight over the last year.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[But by god has it (color: blue)[[kept you going]].]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[You go into work the next day feeling quite hungry, the instant noodles long dissolved in your stomach acid, so you decide to visit a coffeeshop for some breakfast, a rare splurge.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[But just as you are opening the door, someone rushes out, almost knocking into you headfirst.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[... The coffee, however, does not survive, and most of it ends upon you.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[At least it was (color: blue)[[iced]], and not boiling hot.]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[Shortly after you have your encounter with the vending machine and the fortune cookies, you begin to have strange dreams about a sculpture.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[It is carved entirely from wood, an intricate masterpiece that reveals more detail the longer you look at it.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[Every night, you dream that you are able to walk around it, and study it in detail.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[You've tried to search every possible variation of what this sculpture might be, but no matter what you plug into the search engine, it just (color: blue)[[doesn't seem to exist]].]

You wake up in your regular-issue sleep pod thanks to the regulation awaking scent pumped into the air. (click: ?page)[It's always dark in space, so your body doesn't feel like it wants to get up just yet—it's still tied to Earth's circadian rhythm.] (click: ?page)[You were having a dream of some kind. The sleep scent clears, and the lingering drowsiness it caused in putting you to sleep also dissolves, taking with it your memory of the dream.] (click: ?page)[You get up, and look at the stars, before putting on your spacesuit, helmet, and opening the door to your room.] (click: ?page)[... Only to find yourself standing in the doorway of [[your real house]].]

After a quick breakfast of unappetising nutrient bars in the mess room, you carefully navigate your way through the corridors, buoying yourself across the walls and gently through the maze of cabins and labs and alcoves until you come to the heart of the ship, a large chamber with various controls and maps all spread out. (click: ?page)[Your commander is sitting there, absorbed in some reports that must have come in earlier.] (click: ?page)[Without looking up, she waves a hand at a piece of paper next to her, which you pick up, reading the list of orders for fixes and improvements to the ship.] (click: ?page)[You give her a salute. The work is [[never done]].]

It's better than watching television. A little slow to start, perhaps, but you're sure it'll pick up. They probably want the viewer to be properly immersed in the story first, before they shock you. The realism is half the battle won, after all. (click: ?page)[You lie down on the couch, pop in a [[third starburst]], and let it fizzle in your mouth and dissolve into another dream vision.]

You make your way to the first thing on the list - a faulty coolant in one of the starboard engine rooms. (click: ?page)[You pass by a pair of whispering cadets who stop whispering when you approach, and look at you strangely when you give them a friendly nod.] (click: ?page)[You're not sure what you've done to earn their disdain, but there are some of the ship that still adhere to the old ways, and look down on those whose job is simply to maintain the ship.] (click: ?page)[You put it aside, and step into the engine room to [[begin work]].]

As the last taste of the third starburst fizzles out in your mouth, you hope that they aren't going to reenact an entire day's worth of work. It's enough to live through your own experiences without having to live through someone else's. (click: ?page)[The light on the ceiling is too jarring, so you have to turn it off as you feel a headache coming on, being jerked in and out of perspectives so quickly.] (click: ?page)[You decide to experiment: will eating more of the starbursts at once prolong the visions?] (click: ?page)[You eat the [[fourth, fifth, and sixth]] starbursts.]

You check your watch, and it's almost the end of a system day. You've just remembered you forgot to have lunch, you were so absorbed in your work. (click: ?page)[There were a few more strange encounters across the ship, like the feeling of a picture being hung up on the wall just slightly askew – not crooked enough to notice, but just enough to feel that something is not quite right.] (click: ?page)[You wonder what it could be, but ultimately, it's probably just some rumblings of discontent among the officers. Nothing that will trickle down to you.] (click: ?page)[You open the door to your last job of the day and are greeted by a sight that makes your heart beat just slightly faster, within the confines of your regulator. It's your favourite [[android colleague]].]

Jane is busy preparing tea, sorting out all the herbs, medicines, and supplements that the crew demand, keeping careful track of what is present. (click: ?page)[She already has a cup of steaming tea waiting for you, which you accept gracefully.] (click: ?page)[She doesn't usually speak – none of the androids do very much, but she breaks her rule for you just this once.] (click: ?page)[Long day? she asks. You just shrug in response. Typical example of a [[work day]].]

You finish your tea and fix the finicky boiler in silence, Jane continuing to work away at her logs. (click: ?page)[Have you noticed anything – you begin, but then stop yourself. The words have left your mouth too quickly. She looks up at you curiously.] (click: ?page)[Well.. have you noticed anything strange going on around here recently? It seems like something is on the verge of happening, but I don't know what.] (click: ?page)[Jane's face is unreadable. There does seem to be some unrest, she says. But perhaps it's just cabin fever.] (click: ?page)[Of course, you say. Of course, nothing could go wrong. We all need to focus on [[the mission]].]

That's right, Jane says. It would be logical for the crew to remember that. I sometimes wish everyone could be as logical as you were. You are free of the turmoils that everyone else is embroiled with. (click: ?page)[You feel a hot flush suffuse your face at Jane's words. Ostensibly, they don't say much at all, but it gives you an insight into what Jane thinks of you, which you don't find entirely unpleasant.] (click: ?page)[I'll see you around, Jane, you say.] (click: ?page)[Back to the mess hall for an unappetising dinner, and then to your quarters for another cycle's [[sleep]].]

You open your eyes again to the ceiling. You are beginning to gather the threads of this story – a conspiracy brewing, a forbidden love story between a human and an android. (click: ?page)[It's a wonderful bit of escapism. You drink a sip of water to cleanse the sticky sweetness that now coats the inside of your mouth, and then shake out two more starbursts, the [[seventh and eighth]] pieces.]

It's been a few weeks since you first felt the unrest, and the thing has begun to grow within the ship itself, like a dark miasma threatening to envelop everything and everyone. (click: ?page)[The officers' whispering has become louder and bolder, to the point where they don't even attempt to hide their conversations when you walk in.] (click: ?page)[You try to bring up the subject with your fellow engineers, but are met with shrugs and scorn. To them, their lives will not change if leadership changes. A new leader would hardly dare to touch the engineer department – after all, the ship still needs to be run. This is the safest place to be right now.] (click: ?page)[But you feel uncomfortable with this, mostly because of [[the captain]].]

She was the reason you signed up to join this mission in the first place. A legend in her own right, she was at the forefront of space exploration for years, respected and loved by all. (click: ?page)[There were whispers before that she only came out of retirement and took on this mission to run from a scandal involving one of her children. Her eldest son ran a scam that took money from thousands of innocent people. The shame was too much to bear.] (click: ?page)[Others said that this was a suicide mission. Each and every one of the people on the ship had unknowingly signed up to die.] (click: ?page)[You aren't sure what to believe, but all you remember is watching her triumphantly stepping out of a spaceship on some planet far away, her grin so broad it [[lit up]] the whole television.]

Each day, as you pass through the control room, you see her getting paler and more pinched, her brow perpetually furrowed with worry. (click: ?page)[Every day, you wonder if you should say something, but ultimately, you don't. What could you say that would alleviate her burdens, instead of adding to them?] (click: ?page)[You tell Jane that you think something is wrong. Jane looks up at you placidly, and says that yes, things are terribly wrong on the ship – people think that the captain should step down. But there is also something else happening at this crucial junction – the ship has discovered [[something]].]

What a cliffhanger to be left on! (click: ?page)[You blindly reach for the paperbag and pour the rest of the starbursts into your mouth. Already sore from the hard edges of the candies that came before, you feel a stinging ache from the popping candy, the sugar seeping into the cracks of your teeth, coating your gums in the sourness of citric acid.] (click: ?page)[You crunch down on the candy, close your eyes, and lose yourself in the rest of [[the story]].]

After talking to Jane, you numbly make your way back to your room, unable to process what the android has told you. (click: ?page)[You had assumed that the ship was on a mission to find more resources for Earth, that this was all merely an exploratory journey with a date of return.] (click: ?page)[We've been lied to, Jane said. Well, not we – you. The androids are all aware of the mission, and we have been told to make sure that it is carried out. This is not, and has never been an exploratory mission. It is a suicide mission.] (click: ?page)[Is that why everyone wants to defect? you demanded. To save ourselves?] (click: ?page)[If possible, Jane looked [[sympathetic]] at your words.]

Jane continued. There is a sort of alien entity, not too unlike a black hole, sitting just outside the galaxy – the captain's ship made contact with it about fifteen years ago, during her first mission. (click: ?page)[After it figured out that we were a planet of sentient creatures, it wanted to devour us. The captain struck some kind of deal, and now alien demands only one thing – a trickle of human sacrifices, to keep its hunger at bay.] (click: ?page)[And so every year, a mission is sent to the same zone, ostensibly to search for resources, but ultimately to be devoured by this alien creature, to save the rest of the world.] (click: ?page)[You climb into your pod, but you cannot sleep, thinking about the fate that [[awaits]] you.]

The days pass by in a haze. There is no one to share this information with, and this terrible secret weighs on your chest, choking your airflow and making it difficult to carry out the simplest of tasks. (click: ?page)[Sometimes in the middle of the mess hall, you want to shout it out to everyone, to point at the secret and lay it naked right there, so no one can run away from it.] (click: ?page)[You cry, once, in front of Jane. She puts a hand on your arm. You want to kiss her, to make it all go away, to not think about it just for a few moments. But you can't move. You [[leave]] her room, tormented. When will be the moment of impact? Are you already in the stomach of the alien, drifting and forgotten?]

It's been twelve cycles since Jane told you the news. At the beginning of the thirteenth, you enter the control room, and for once, the captain is not hunched over the table. Instead, she is looking directly out of the main window, and you see it too. (click: ?page)[It's a shimmering, rainbow-esque glow that is moving restlessly through the stars. It is large, and you are still some distance away, which allows you to see its entire body, nearly as big as Jupiter.] (click: ?page)[There it is, the captain says. Our final destination.] (click: ?page)[What will you do? You ask. What will [[happen]] to us?]

This will be our last mission, the captain says. But it will be the last mission to ever leave Earth. (click: ?page)[The doors are closing all beside you. You hear a clamour ring through the corridors, the sound of footsteps approaching. You see the angry faces of the other ship's officers coming into view, but the captain doesn't seem to care. She is tapping away at the controls, and the ship is pulled into hyperdrive, lurching forwards so quickly that you feel your body flying backwards, before the internal controls stabilise things.] (click: ?page)[If we are going to die, we may as well try to take this thing down with us, the captain says, still [[looking forward]] at the alien creature.]

The vision dissipates, and you start to panic. While lying there, tears have started to flow from your eyes, and you hadn't even realised. (click: ?page)[Where's the rest of it? What happens next? Despite the bleak situation, you are still holding out on a sliver of hope, that they will come out of this alive somehow.] (click: ?page)[You dig your clumsy fingers into the bag, trying to find a crumb of the last starbursts, but all you get is dust. You lick your fingers desperately, but it doesn't quite seem to be enough.] (click: ?page)[You tear the bag apart, and lick the insides. You find a crevice where a few tiny crumbs are sitting, and let them [[dissolve]] on your tongue slowly.]

As you approach the shimmer, it eats you up whole. Flashes of calm, of remembering your life on Earth, memories of time spent with Jane. The first thing to go is sensation, leaving through your fingertips like your bones are being bleached clean. (click: ?page)[Reaching out to the captain in front of you, already so far away, but you might as well try.] (click: ?page)[A sudden, searing heat ripples through your body, then dissipates into nothingness. Like moving through static, your whole body buzzing and vibrating to the point of desperation, and then just letting go (color: red)[[–]]]

After the shock of that last vision, you numbly crawl into bed, and fall into a dead sleep, so deep that when your alarm rings again, it's an unwelcome shock, pulling you out of a dreamless exhaustion. (click: ?page)[You stuff the remnants of the paper bag into your pocket as you leave, intending to interrogate the manufacturer about what the hell all of that was.] (click: ?page)[On the train, you look furtively at it, certain that you look quite insane. In the broad daylight, it slowly begins to disintegrate, the dust crumbling off your hands and onto the bag of a nearby lady, who shoots you a dirty look.] (click: ?page)[The only thing you can discern is a warning label at the very bottom of the bag, the last thing to disappear: Do not consume in one sitting. Side-effects like hallucination, melancholy, and yearning may occur.] (click: ?page)+(color: red)[[*]]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[You trudge all the way downstairs, down a now extremely familiar path to the convenience store, so familiar that you could walk it in your sleep.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[The bell rings as you enter, a motion-triggered sensor that blares an overlong chime when anyone gets too close.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[The girl at the counter looks familiar, but not quite at the same time. You pick out your purchases, a styrofoam cup of instant ramen and a fizzy yogurt drink, which she dutifully checks out, reading the number on the screen clearly.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[It's the (color: blue)[[voice]] that finally makes you recognise who she is.]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[Oh! You say. You're the owner's daughter.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[You actually recognise her from when she used to work at the store last, taking over her parents' shifts in the past. She's lost a little weight, and looks thinner, but otherwise much the same. She is the same age as you, or thereabouts.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[You remember me, she smiles shyly. I remember you too. You're still living around here, huh?] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[You nod, a little self-conscious at her words. I thought you got married, you say.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[I was married, she said. Then I was divorced. It happened more (color: blue)[[quickly]] than I thought it would.]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[You're not too sure what to say to that. It all feels a bit awkward now. Your hands start to sweat, and the cup noodles feel slippery in your grasp. Any longer in that position and you might drop it.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[Sure enough, while you are thinking of something to say, the cup noodles slip out of your hands and onto the floor.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[Both the owner's daughter and you dive to the floor, bumping heads in the process and grabbing each other's hands instead while reaching for the cup noodles, which has just rolled further away.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[The situation is so ridiculous that you both have to laugh, sitting there on the floor. The owner's daughter gets up to her feet first, and (color: blue)[[helps you up]].]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[You look at each other for a moment, grinning foolishly. Any awkwardness that might have been there has disappeared.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[Just then, the doorbell chimes again, letting someone else in, who looks at you both briefly before going to find what they need.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[I'll see you around? you say. She probably has better things to do than sit around messing with you.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[Wait! she calls after you. When you turn around, her face is redder than ever. Would you like to have a (color: blue)[[drink]] with me after my shift is over?]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[Your mind briefly flashes back to the fortune cookie slip you have pinned on your wall.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[Why not? You say, smiling. I'll see you later.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[You walk back home with a spring in your step, and a lighthearted tingling all the way from head to toe.] (click: ?page)[[*]]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[You book your first ever flight abroad with the little savings you have, armed with nothing but an old camera and a desire to lose yourself.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[And for some reason, people keep coming back for more of your videos, amateurish as the whole set up is. The comments flood in, asking for more.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[More travels follow, to some places you never would even have imagined yourself visiting. People start to pay you to feature their things in your videos, free stays in exchange for a review, free food to boost the profile of their business.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[But there's (color: blue)[[one thing]] that accompanies you on each journey.]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[That slip of taped-together fortune, a trite and overdone saying, but one that has become your lucky charm over the years, reminding you not to look back, but to keep moving forward.] (click: ?page)[[*]]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[A small man apologises profusely to you, endlessly saying sorrys, apologising to no end.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[In the confused and chaotic haze, you can't help but register that he is rather attractive, despite the unfortunate circumstances.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[You exchange numbers, he promises to get your coat dry cleaned, and then disappears into the crowd of office workers at a fearful trot. You are almost sure that you are (color: blue)[[never]] going to see him again.]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[And that's how we met, you say to a crowd of friends and family, wrapping up your wedding speech.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[Beside you, your partner twinkles and blushes, before standing up to plant a loving kiss to cheers and whoops from the crowd.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[You stare adoringly into his eyes, lost to the rest of the world. Aren't you lucky?] (click: ?page)[[*]]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[So you decide to take up woodworking, in an attempt to try and capture what this sculpture of your dreams might be.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[It's a very grueling process, and you've never been particularly artistic. But each time you are on the verge of giving up, the sculpture returns to you in your dreams, its tantalising perfection remaining just out of reach, yet searing itself into your brain.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[You spend years chasing after it, and slowly get quite good at woodworking.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[Slowly, you begin to amass quite a few pieces, to the point where someone offers to (color: blue)[[buy them]] as you make them.]

(bg:white)+(color: red)[In your pursuit of the perfect sculpture, you decide you have to dedicate more time to this. You quit your job, and start woodworking full time, selling your pieces through the person who offered to buy them, and who has become your first agent.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[Years later, you are still dreaming of the sculpture, still trying to come close to recreating it, even though you could probably do it from memory by now.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[You are still waiting for something. The perfect time, to finally feel that your skills are up to the mark, for everything to fall into place.] (click: ?page)+(bg:white)+(color: red)[But you can feel it, the time is coming soon. All you have to do is to be patient.] (click: ?page)[[*]]

A curious thing, these sweets. For a moment, you felt as if you were walking in this person's skin, like in some kind of virtual reality headset. (click: ?page)[You want to see if another will have the same effect.] (click: ?page)[Take [[a second one]].]