I’m craving for strawberries. The ones from my childhood, the ones I was stealing from the greenhouse plantations. It’s been years since I try some. In the System, the taste of food is not a priority. It’s not like in jail, but you get the calories you need, nothing more, nothing less. If you don’t need a cake, or sweet strawberries, you don’t get them. And who really needs a cake? Politicians, diplomats, maybe. In a similar way, you don’t eat what is not supposed to be eaten by you. Like oysters. If you steal food, your right to choose will be removed. Yes, of course you do have food choices. Good food is happiness. It’s Opium für Volk.

Take for example the Spanish omelette. Or the Paella. Of course, they are no more Spanish dishes, since Spain is no more. The land is there, but not the borders or the identity. The country recipes are anyway good, and they are not complicated. So they give us that. The system has a giant Mensa: you will have either spanish omelette or schnitzel, but not spaghetti, if they don’t offer it. I have heard of people that cook, after weeks of collecting ingredients, and I also heard of clandestine restaurants. What a crazyness, to risk your life for a new menu.

Thinking about food is making me hungry, more and more.

So where are the moon animals? Am I the only one? I’m so hungry that I could eat a transporter, and knowing that they are some kind of giant vegetal whales is not making the situation easier. And where is the string I can see from the Yellow Earth, the string connecting both planets? Why can’t I see it now? If I find the string, I can find a transporter, and over it, maybe humans, humanoids, or simply a good conversation.

I jump as much as I can. I go up to 10 meters over the surface, I guess. Distances are tricky on a thin atmosphere, your eyes can deceive your brain. No, not a single move on the surroundings. I fall 50 meters away from the water crater, and before start walking again, I perform a test digout on the green goo.  Maybe I can find worms, or some similar insect. Worms are delicious on Earth, if you know how to fry them. I scratch, and scratch with my bare hands… but no luck. Not a single moving thing that I could appreciate with my bare eyes. No insects at all. The thin compost carpet covering this part of the Moon may be created only by local bacterias.

Before I escaped, my previous mission was to check against mine the academic level of the basic system education. Now everything is done with computers. They teach you to trust them.  I don’t need to pass through this chain of thoughts, since I was born analoge. That’s another advantage for me here versus a younger system minion, if they ever care to chase me.  I don’t trust on computers, I trust on math. I could, if needed, even solve a wave function, given the right parameters. I know the magic. I don’t need a computer to find the eigenvalues, just time. I was able to solve with a pen and a paper such a calculation, like diagonalize a matrix, when I was 10.  The problem I’m facing now could also be solved with math. The numbers behind life are quite simple in principle: water + oxygen + energy.  The math for complex life requires more factors, like the need to evolve, or the need to compete for a certain set of resources. If I want to find something more complex than the green goo, I need to explore the factors, I need to go to a more hostile piece of land. I need to reach the mountains.

Before I reach them, when I’m midway there, around 7 kms from my landing point, I saw it. From the privilege of the height of a jump, the first moon creature run away right under my feet. On a quick move, I managed to capture it, and even more complicated, I managed to start a small fire to cook it. I simply covered it with green goo, and threw it to the hesitant flames. I just finished devouring it. It turns out that the moon has indeed rabbits, and that they taste as delicious as their terrestrial cousins.


About bitsanddragons

A traveller, an IT professional and a casual writer
This entry was posted in aliens, dragons, fantasy, new dreams. Bookmark the permalink.

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