Chapter 11 - Breakfast

SADE

I woke slowly at first.

Then, all at once.

Springing up on my elbows, I immediately checked the bedroom door. It was still shut, just as I had left it. The large bedroom's window had darkened overnight, obscuring the view outside.

After another glance at the door to confirm it was closed, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and slipped my feet into the soft-soled shoes. During the night, I had removed the jumpsuit's sleeves, which were too warm and tight to sleep comfortably, leaving me only in the brassiere I had beneath. I pulled them back over my arms, dreading wearing this tight suit for another day.

The window was dark enough to see my reflection in it. My thin braids looked just as they had the day before. Whatever product the company had treated them with was doing a great job of keeping them shiny and sleek.

I pressed my hands against the window, trying to see outside. Only the top of the window showed a glimpse of the sky, the darkness clearing away, while the bottom remained opaque.

When I removed my hands, two clear spots appeared where they had warmed the glass. Intrigued, I pressed a finger against a lower section and watched as my warm touch cleared away the opacity. So clever! The morning sun gradually turned the dark glass clear, just as it rose high in the sky.

A noise behind the door made me freeze.

I tiptoed to the door and pressed my ear against it, straining to hear. Nothing. My hand found the handle and hesitated before I gently turned it, cracking the door open just enough to peek out.

The house was quiet. The tray was gone.

He must have already left for work. Or at least, I hoped for it.

My eyes lingered on the spot where the tray had been, silently thanking my past self for keeping two of the loaves of bread in my pillow.

If meals only came once a day, I'd need to ration carefully. I stayed in a clinic for a few months as a teenager that provided only one meal a day. We all had secret reserves of food in our dormitories.

Anyway, I needed to use the bathroom again.

Moving carefully, I tiptoed to the adjacent door and reached for the handle.

Before I could even open it, a startled gasp came from the other side.

"Occupied!" a squeaky voice cried.

I jumped back, my blood running cold, and quickly retreated to the bedroom. I shut the door behind me and sank to the floor, pressing my back against it.

Oh, no.

No! What if he thought I'd tried to join him in the bathroom?

No, no, no, no, no.

I still had no idea what kind of Love Machina he expected me to be, and I didn't want to give him any hint of possible use.

I buried my face in my hands, horrified at this realization.

A knock came from the other side.

"It's available now," his stern voice said behind the door.

Too shocked, I didn't answer. Only after I heard his hurried footsteps going down the stairs did I dare peek out again. The hallway was empty, and I heard the faint clatter of activity in the kitchen.

Although I had always planned to shower, I now felt a strange urge to follow through. It was as if I needed to prove what had been my intentions all along. I locked the door and found a fresh towel in the cupboard. I took my time under the hot water, stalling as long as possible to reinforce my innocent intentions.

There, I finally relaxed for a bit. For a second, I forgot about my strange circumstances and enjoyed my first private shower.

Ever.

How blissful! No one yelled at me for taking too long or using all the warm water. No one was using the toilet next to me or brushing their teeth while I soaped myself up. The water remained warm the whole time, the soapy liquid coming from one of the faucets perfuming the entire room. It was the most delicious scent I had ever smelled.

What was likely a mundane task for any resident of the City felt like the height of luxury to me. How incredibly fortunate I was to experience it!

After drying off, I reluctantly slipped back into the same jumpsuit and underwear I'd been wearing since yesterday.

Even though I was used to wearing the same uniform every day, the clinic's self-cleaning wardrobes made it feel freshly laundered each morning. Not to mention the automatic underwear dispenser.

Back in the hallway, I hesitated.

Part of me wanted to avoid him, but he already knew I was awake. My mind replayed our brief exchange from the day before. He had seemed either indifferent, at best, or annoyed by my presence, at worst. Maybe I should at least give him the chance to send me back to my room if I bothered him so much.

Full of apprehension, I finally decided to go downstairs.

The kitchen was as clear and empty as yesterday.

No breakfast, then.

The owner stood in front of the glass wall dividing the kitchen and living room, the same one that had displayed the blue messages. His clothes were similar too, wearing what looked like the same white shirt tucked into high-waisted light gray pants. Were these the same as yesterday's, too? Maybe the wardrobe was self-cleaning, and I just hadn't figured out how to use mine.

"Good morning," he said without turning fully, only glancing over his shoulder.

"Good morning," I replied, surprised by the coolness of his voice after the small squawk he had uttered earlier.

"You can sit," he gestured to a high chair by the kitchen island.

I perched lightly on the seat facing the kitchen. He walked around the table and slid a small rectangular object toward me.

"This is for you," he said. When I kept a blank expression, he added, "It's a tablet. It has many functions to help you with... Well, with everything."

When I didn't move, he took the tablet from the counter and handed it to me. I held it with both hands as if it were something fragile.

I had used tablets before, small and big. At the clinic, we always used them to complete questionnaires or evaluations, but always in the context of the clinical trials. For personal use, we only had access to simple digital typewriters at the Information Center to type anything, but nothing could be saved on them.

I carefully turned the device around in my fingers, admiring its sleek design. This one was much prettier than the sturdy ones of the clinics.

I wondered if a machina would already know how to use it. Was I supposed to pretend? For a moment, I feared this would be the one single detail that would betray my true identity.

The owner seemed to notice my hesitation.

"Well…" he said after a brief pause, "let me show you."

He walked around the kitchen island to stand beside me, and the next second, his fingers came on the back of my right hand, pressing my thumb against the glass surface of the tablet.

"It activates with your touch or your face," he explained, his tone neutral as his hand left mine to adjust his glasses.

I glanced up at him briefly, curious about how he felt about being so close to me. Yesterday, it looked as if a large perimeter was needed between him and me. Today, he didn't seem so distraught about having to talk to me or even be close to me.

Or at least, his expression betrayed nothing.

The screen lit up in my hand. Good morning, Sade.

"See," he pointed back at the tablet, where a few icons appeared around the greetings. "Depending on the time of day, your physiological data, and your location…" he explained, gesturing to the symbols on the screen. "…some icons will be pushed to the forefront. It's usually very accurate…" He frowned slightly, as if disappointed. "…but I think it still needs more of your data to fine-tune its accuracy."

I listened carefully, knowing these were probably essential instructions for me to complete my mission here. My managers at the clinic had always praised my ability to learn quickly, but now, in this unfamiliar setting, I wasn't sure I would perform as well.

"Are you hungry?" he suddenly asked. "Do you eat breakfast?"

My full attention shot back at him, my face unintentionally lighting up.

"Yes!" I replied with a smile I couldn't control.

His eyes blinked a few times, and for the briefest moment, a faint smile tugged at his lips. He had that kind of smile that would create gentle creases on his cheeks, right beneath his high cheekbones.

Then, as if suddenly aware of the small distance between us, he took a small step back, clearing his throat and averting my eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, adjusted his glasses, and in the next instant, the stern expression had returned to his face.

"Here, click on that icon."

I tapped it. A questionnaire appeared.

"The tablet doesn't know you yet, so for now, you'll need to fill in some personal information: age, weight, height, sleep rating, physical activity, health goals…" he followed behind my shoulder. "After that, it will suggest a list of meals tailored to you…" He moved around the kitchen island to the opposite corner. "…and within a maximum of ten minutes, your meal will appear in one of these boxes."

His hands hovered over white boxes embedded in the kitchen walls, each with a specific symbol. I had not checked these yesterday, as they looked more like devices than cupboards.

"The cooked box," he said, tapping one labeled with three squiggly lines. "And the frozen box," he tapped another with a snowflake symbol.

He looked at me to confirm I was following, and I quickly nodded.

"These boxes only preserve meals for a limited time," he explained. "They're programmed to minimize food waste and optimize energy use. If the balance between these two gets too skewed, the operation is canceled, and…"

He paused, studying me like he feared I wasn't keeping up.

"Just try to consume it as soon as you can," he concluded with a small nod.

I thought back to the redhead's question during the onboarding meeting, about whether our owners might test us on our knowledge. A strange relief settled over me as I realized my owner seemed to assume I was dumber than I was.

Good. That would make the deception easier.

As I finished filling out the form, I felt his stare on me, studying me from across the kitchen. I was used to medical staff observing me all the time, so that wasn't as uncomfortable as it should be. Also, the anticipation of getting food from a mysterious box in the next ten minutes was enough to trigger my curiosity.

When I finished and looked back up, he seemed to have just had a realization.

"Are you wearing the same... The same clothes as yesterday?" he hesitated, a slight frown creasing his forehead.

I froze. "Yes," I replied, unsure if I'd done something wrong. Maybe there was another box somewhere, with new clothes waiting for me?

His stare on me, his fingers tapped the temple of his glasses, and I noticed a slight glare flickering on the lenses. That was something I had witnessed at work already.

He rubbed his forehead, nodding thoughtfully at the screen he was seeing through his glasses.

"I see," he simply answered, rubbing the wrinkles on his forehead with two fingers.

If I had been more familiar with his expressions, I might have recognized concern, but for now, I only feared I had done something wrong.

"I don't have a change," I quickly explained, my eyes following him as he moved past me and back to the glass between the living room and kitchen.

"I understand," he murmured, his voice with clear disappointment, so soft it almost seemed like he was speaking to himself.

It was hard not to interpret this disappointment as something I was responsible for. I turned back on the seat to face the kitchen, hoping that giving some space would ease the air between us.

It felt like walking on eggshells.

His fingers' rapid tapping on the screen was the only noise in the room as he focused on whatever he was doing. I stole a furtive glance behind my shoulder, out to the windows, admiring the morning light on the green leaves. They cast shadows on the floor, the shades swaying with a breeze.

Looking back at the tablet in my hands, I realized a few meal options had appeared. Squinting at the unfamiliar words, from "pineapple" to "smoothie," I settled on the first option on the list, the only one I recognized.

"Great choice," I heard from behind my shoulder.

When I looked up, I realized the owner had moved beside me again. My attention was quickly pulled back to the tablet when I felt a small vibration coming from it.

"I created a new safe, just for you," he said, pointing at the blue notification flashing on the screen, sounding slightly embarrassed. "You'll be able to buy new clothes and…" He cleared his throat. "…anything else you might need for your well-being."

My eyebrows shot up.

I never had a safe. No debt babies had the right to have their own safe. Everything I earned from the clinical trials went straight to the debt center, never passing through my hands first.

I felt almost scared. Was I even allowed to have a safe?

"Whatever you need to pay for, you can just tap your tablet for it," the owner explained, taking out his own tablet and demonstrating by tapping it against mine.

50,000.

The numbers appeared on my screen, accompanied by a pleasant vibration in my hand.

I frowned again, clueless, and looked up at him.

"I have no idea how much… this costs…" he shrugged, waving his hands in my direction as if to explain what had just happened.

I looked back at the tablet, even more confused now.

Behind him, a small chime rang.

"Your breakfast is here," he announced as if relieved by the distraction. He was about to open the cooked box when he suddenly turned to me. "Would you like to try?" he offered.

I acquiesced and walked to his side. Through the screen of the box, I could see a delicious bowl of warm oats, with small, unidentified yellow bits scattered on top.

My fingers hovered over the box, wondering if it worked like the wardrobe door in my bedroom. Would the door slide open with just a touch? Or was it a different system, one I didn't know of, like the window in the bathroom?

Seeing me hesitate, the owner pursed his lips, leaned his head to the side, and wrapped his thumb and index around a small knob.

"Like this," he said, clear concern in his voice, as he pulled down the small door.

Oh, I realized.

And then it occurred to me that maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he gathered more proof of my ignorance.

"Oooh," I feigned to be impressed, raising my eyebrows as high as possible.

With the same worried look, he gestured to the glowing light inside.

"The redder the color, the warmer the dish, so you have to be careful, whe—AaH!" His whole body tensed as I plunged my hands inside the box. "—when—" he sighed with relief, quickly recomposing himself as I pulled the bowl out effortlessly, my face wearing a naive smile, "whenyoutakeoutthedish," he finished in one relieved breath, brushing his hair out of his face.

I returned to the table, completely captivated by the delicious smell of the warm oats. A wooden spoon was already placed in the bowl, and I picked it up with one hand, pushing my hair behind my shoulder with the other.

As I took my first bite, I glanced at the owner, still standing by the box, an incredulous look on his face.

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked, covering my full mouth with a polite hand.

"N-no… No," he quickly shook his head, removing his glasses and rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand.

He seemed to consider whether it was safe to leave me alone. I couldn't help but smile inwardly, thinking that playing fool might be the best strategy.

"Could you confirm what you'll do today?" he asked, stepping toward the entrance and slinging his satchel around his neck like he had done the day before.

I understood he was about to leave and wanted to be sure I had the right instructions. I rose slightly from the high seat, my feet almost touching the ground, hands clasped together on the counter.

"I will buy new clothes," I repeated the instructions I had understood, and, seeing his encouraging look, added, "And... anything…" I frowned, trying to recall his exact words. "Anything necessary for my well-being," I confirmed, unsure of what that meant.

The owner seemed satisfied with my answer, but just as he was about to open the door, he turned back to me, a worried expression crossing his face.

"What else?" he pressed, catching me as I took another spoonful of the most delicious oatmeal I had ever tasted.

Startled, I quickly chewed and swallowed, pressing my fingers to my lips, trying to recall any instruction I missed.

"You will order your meals and eat them, right?" his gaze was sharp, almost concerned. "At least three meals a day," he specified, narrowing his eyes at me and lifting a finger as if already accusing me of something I had not done yet.

"Yes," I confirmed, placing my hand on the tablet beside me to show I understood how to get food.

His expression softened, and he finally seemed satisfied to leave me alone.

"I'll be back in the evening," he announced, before stepping out the door.

I watched him close the door, taking another spoonful of oats.

I felt a surge of gratitude.

Finally, I knew how to get food, and soon enough, I'd also have access to a change of clothes!

I had no idea how I would buy clothes, but that was a problem for after breakfast.

I chewed on another sweet piece of the mysterious yellow bits in the oats and hummed my contentment. Mango, I read the description of the meal on the app. What a strange, delicious taste!

I had moved seats to face the greenery outside, and my mind wandered out to all the things I would get the chance to discover by staying here for a few weeks. The tiny cleaning robot was busy crawling up the glass screen, erasing the fingerprints, and I admired it, thinking how wonderful it was to live in a house where you didn't have to cook or clean.

Already, I checked on the tablet all the next meals I could have, my head spinning with all the available options.

Maybe that was all I had to do here: eat, sleep, and fill out questionnaires for meals. So far, it was starting to feel more and more like my work at the clinic, and I wasn't unhappy about it.

The owner was strange, but not as much as yesterday anymore. I was even starting to get used to his cold demeanor. He seemed so uninterested in me that he only remembered after one day that I needed to eat too! I could forgive that if that meant he would keep ignoring me for the rest of the mission.

I scooped the last spoonful of oats, feeling much better about my circumstances.

Loud footsteps resonating behind the entrance door brought me back to reality.

Maybe I had celebrated too soon, I thought, rising to my feet, ready to face whatever was coming as the door swung open.

Out of breath, the owner appeared in the doorway, one hand on the door handle and the other resting on the doorframe, panting as if he had run back to the house. His satchel hung loosely from his elbow.

"Wait," he gasped after catching his breath, pushing his glasses up his forehead as if to take a better look at me, his hair spiking up. "Do you even know where to go?"

PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO VOTE 🥺 

🗓️ Next chapters: this Monday, July 14th 🗓️

(I'll be posting two chapters or more with each update, hoping to take you on that new ride as fast as possible 🥰)