Artificial Appetite

The Zenith dining hall shimmered with an elegance that felt both eternal and hollow. Crystal chandeliers hovered without supports, casting prismatic light across marble floors polished to a mirror sheen.

Luna sat at a corner table, her avatar's golden-blonde hair catching the artificial glow, though its usual radiance felt dimmed by the weight of her thoughts. Across from her his husband, Nathan's avatar, immaculate in a tailored suit, sipped a glass of simulated Bordeaux, his eyes fixed on the table as if it held answers neither could voice.

Luna requested to attend the restaurant, Celestine, which was a Tier-1 premium exclusive prior to the vote, as she tried to reason with her husband. Tonight, it was sparsely populated, the other avatars engaged in quiet conversations or staring into their own curated voids.

A server approached, its face a smooth, featureless oval, and placed a plate before Luna: a perfectly seared filet mignon, paired with truffle-infused risotto, materialized instantly from the system's molecular rendering. No chef had labored over it, no hands had shaped it. The dish was a flawless reimagination of someone else's memory, conjured without passion or error.

"Exquisite, isn't it?" Nathan said, his voice attempting warmth but landing flat. He gestured to his own plate, an identical creation. "They've refined the flavor profiles again. I can almost taste the vineyard's soil in this wine."

Luna pushed a fork through the risotto, watching the grains part without resistance. "It's perfect," she murmured, though the word felt like ash. Perfect. That was Zenith's promise, wasn't it? Every desire fulfilled, every sensation optimized. Yet, after her conversation with Tera, the perfection tasted like a lie. Her sister's voice, sharp with anger, heavy with the weight of the physical world echoed in her mind. Finding out about her parent's rapid decline further pushed Luna into questioning her life. 

She glanced at Nathan, searching for the man she'd loved in the physical world, the one who'd promised her eternity right after the opportunity to upload. His avatar was flawless, his features sculpted to an ageless ideal, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. "You've been quiet since the board meeting was called," she said, keeping her tone neutral. "Are you worried about the vote?"

Nathan set his glass down, the motion too deliberate. "Worried? No. Li has it under control. The Returners' attack was a stunt, nothing more. They can't touch us here." His words were confident, but his jaw tightened, a subtle shift in his composure.

Luna leaned forward, her voice low. "And what if they're right, Nathan? What if we've taken too much? Tera said—"

"Tera," he interrupted, his tone sharp enough to cut through the ambient hum of the restaurant. "Your sister, who chose to stay behind, who's now threatening everything we've built. Don't let her guilt you into forgetting what we paid for. What we earned."

"Earned?" Luna's voice rose, drawing a glance from a nearby avatar before she caught herself. "We paid to escape, Nathan. To leave them behind. And now they're dying out there while we sit here, eating food that doesn't exist, in a world that's just code."

Nathan's expression softened, but only slightly. "Luna, we made our choice. You can't save them by tearing this down. If you vote with Voss, if you push this reckless proposal, Li will crush you. You'll lose everything: your privileges, your access, maybe even…" He trailed off, unable to say it.

"Me?" she finished, her voice barely above a whisper. "You'd let them exile me?"

His silence was answer enough. Luna felt betrayed. The man who'd once vowed to protect her was now a guardian of Zenith's hierarchy, more loyal to its order than to her. She thought of Tera's words again, of her parents, of the children dying for lack of resources, of the world she'd abandoned. For seven years, she'd drowned her guilt in Zenith's pleasures, but now it surfaced, raw and undeniable.

The server returned, its featureless face tilting as it spoke in a soothing monotone. "Would you care for dessert? We have an impeccable chocolate soufflé with a liquid center, calibrated to your neural preferences."

"No," Luna said, pushing her plate away. The food, untouched, dissolved into motes of light, reclaimed by the system. "I'm done."

Nathan reached for her hand, but she pulled back. "Luna, please. We can still fix this. Stay with me. Vote with the board. We'll protect what's ours."

She stood, her avatar's movements fluid yet heavy with resolve. "What's ours, Nathan, is a cage. And I'm starting to see the bars."

As she walked away, the dining hall felt like a mockery, a glorified prison built on the suffering of those outside. The vote loomed, and with it, a choice: to preserve her hollow paradise or to risk everything for a purpose she'd forgotten she could feel.