Even today I am not fully sure what I was feeling at that moment, what it did for me. It was something I had never experienced before.

The best I can describe it as is a feeling of safety. For the first time I could remember I was feeling safe, protected, cared for. All my life before that single moment I had been surrounded by people who could at best be described as indifferent, and at worst as tormentors.

Whatever it was though, it opened something deep inside me, and all the pain, all the anger, and the hate broke out. It did not remove them, but it made them bearable.

I can’t tell how long he just held me in his arms, but I know that when he finally let me go, my eyes were burning, my cheeks were wet, as was his shirt, and I felt mentally and emotionally drained to the dregs.

He still held me at the shoulders and looked into my eyes for a few moments, before he spoke, concern evident in his voice:

“How are you doing? Feeling better?”

I nodded but remained silent.

“Do you want to rest for a bit?”

I tried to analyze what I was feeling, unsuccessfully I might add, but then shrugged.

“I think I want to go home for a bit.”

He kept looking at me before he sighed and then nodded.

“Ok, I will bring you back. Will you be alright alone?”

I closed my eyes, thinking for a bit.

“I don’t think I will be alone.” When his face fell, I hastened to continue: ”It has nothing to do with you but I need to be on my turf for a bit. I… I feel a bit safer in the fortress. You are welcome to stay with us… me. But I… need that safety right now.”

“I can understand that. And then what, we will talk some more?”

“We can, but not too deep right now. I am not up to it right now. You can keep me company while I cook.”

That raised his eyebrow.

“While you cook?”

“Yes, the first load of real food was delivered yesterday, shortly after noon. I have to tell you, I was not eager for your party, I was looking forward to making real food.”

He chuckled at that.

“Oh yes, I remember your reaction to real food. Well, I can keep you company. Not much to do today anyway. As long as I get a taste that is. I mean, you can cook, right?”

“Oh yes, cooking is a skill you can actually learn pretty well in VR. Well, I am not so sure if a diadem is enough, but with a jack, you can spend hours and hours learning to cook without wasting ingredients.”

Then I felt a bit mischievous.

“And of course you can’t have a taste.”

When confusion flashed over his expression, I had to chuckle.

“Oh please, when I am cooking a taste will not be enough. You are of course invited to eat dinner with us. But no taste!”

He snorted and then guffawed out.

“Ok, I think I can get that. And us?”

“Yes, of course. I’m not such a jerk to have all these aromas permeate the building and let the others eat food substitutes. If I am cooking anyway, then I cook for everybody.”

He chuckled again.

“You know, I know enough people who are jerks like that. Not that I can’t comprehend them. Real food is awfully expensive after all.”

I just shrugged.

“It’s just money. Yes, it is objectively a hunking big heap of money, but subjectively, it is not that much for me.”

He muttered a “must be nice” but kept smiling.

“Well, in that case, I would be honored to eat your cooking. What will you make?”

“Nothing special. Just some pasta. It has to be something that Mark can eat with one hand. His prosthetic does not quite work yet. Not that he has the interface implanted anyway.”

Ben nodded at that.

“Yeah, I understand. So you got some sauce and pasta? That does not take that long to cook.”

I frowned.

“No, of course not. Who goes to the effort to get real food and then gets premade stuff? No, I’ll make it from scratch. That will take a few hours.”

“From… scratch! You… are comfortable enough cooking that you can make the sauce from scratch?”

“As I said, cooking can be trained very easily in VR. I’ve spent years, virtual ones, mind you, to learn everything. And not just the sauce. Everything. If you ever had fresh pasta you understand. It’s just not the same.”

He chuckled and shook his head.

“You always manage to surprise me.”

“Well, that reminds me, do you know where my clothes went?”

“Yes, I had them cleaned. But seriously, you need… a change in underwear. It is a bit boring.”

I felt my face heating up again.

“I’ll have to look into it. I just did not expect anybody but me to ever see it.”

He typed something in his com.

“Whelp, it will be brought here in a few moments. I have to confess though I like you in what you are wearing now.”

“Fuzzy slippers and a robe?”

“And nothing else. That is the important point here.”

“I think it would be a bit awkward to work in this getup.”

He snickered at that.

“Yes, I think you are right in that.”

A couple of minutes later there was another discrete knock on the door, and when Ben opened it he received my clothes. Afterward, we both got dressed. Honestly, I could understand that he found my utilitarian underwear somewhat boring. I had selected it with the sole purpose of comfort after all.

Soon, Ben lead me to the garage and helped me into his limousine.

While we were being driven, a stray thought entered my mind.

“Hm, why do you always use the limo? Wouldn’t the skimmer be more… practical?”

“Yes, you are right. But the limousine adds a certain style that the skimmer just lacks. It is practical but drab.”

“So you have the Sikorsky and that’s it?”

When he nodded I continued.

“Ok, I understand that, even if I think the practicality is more important. But why don’t you get a more glamorous model?”

“I honestly can’t justify the expense. I only have the limo because I basically inherited it from the Tong that owned your fortress and have good mechanics that keep it in perfect condition.”

Hm… I had thought his operation was more profitable.

“Hm… ok. Oh, I had asked Justin and Ryan, but you probably have a better idea, I have ordered a new skimmer, and need a new home for my 545. Honestly, I don’t really trust it anymore. I have seen how well Frankel and his chuckling horde of imbeciles treated the fusactors in the basement. It needs to be thoroughly rebuilt.”

He thought for a moment.

“Hm, what do want for it? Depending on the price there might be some options”

“I just want it to be gone. I need the space in the garage. If you don’t find somebody I will just scrap it.”

He chuckled.

“Well, at that price I can’t say no. If you are alright with it I take it over and have my mechanics rebuild it.”

“Shure, why shouldn’t I be alright with it?” I shrugged.

“No idea. Some people are a bit peculiar in that regard.”

“There are all kinds. To answer your question, yes you can have it.”

Finally, we reached the fortress.

“If you wait in the mess for a moment, I will change clothes. They are not the most… comfortable.”

On the way to the chairs, we met Darren, who moved out of the way, confusion was written on his face.

He followed behind us, and when I moved on to my room, he kept following Ben into the mess.

I quickly threw on a comfortable jumpsuit and nice slippers and moved towards the mess.

There I found Ben surrounded by Darren, Christine, Jacky, and Kate, in an animated discussion.

The discussion stopped before I was close enough to hear what they were talking about, and I just shrugged and opened the newly installed fridge. Fortunately, everything except the living herbs was radiation sterilized and vacuum-packed. This stuff would keep for years, if so needed, even if it would lose in quality.

When I turned back to the table, I addressed the people there.

“I assume that everyone will want some of this. If not… oh well, it will be enough for two days anyway. Does anybody want to help?”

Only Ben seemed to understand what I was talking about if their baffled expressions were an indication. They looked at each other, wordlessly asking if anybody of them knew what I was talking about.

In the end, after a wordless discussion, Jacky shrugged and answered me: “Uhm, sorry, V, but what are you talking about?”

“I am going to cook us some pasta.”

“You… want to cook? Why? Is the food replicator broken?”

Ben broke out laughing and nearly fell from the chair, drawing all the attention to him.

Christine was the one who, perturbed, asked: “Is there something funny about this?”

That only served to make Ben laugh even harder, and the others looked at him in frustration.

After maybe a minute or so Ben finally got himself calmed down enough to talk.

“Oh, that is so good. And yes, that was funny. Have you ever realized how Kitten here refers to replicated food as grub or food substitute?”

They all nodded, and Kate asked the obvious question.

“Yes, it’s one of her strange ticks. So what, it doesn’t hurt anybody.”

Ben snorted again, while I had already unwrapped all the ingredients, smelling the fresh tomatoes.

Luckily, he managed to keep himself under control this time.

“That is not really a strange tick. The point is, she has found the pleasure of real food and after that, replicator fare might as well be colored cardboard. So she has arranged to get real food, and offered to cook some for all of us. That is all. But to answer the original question for her, as far as she is concerned, yes the food replicator is broken. It comes broken when it is brand new.”

I had meanwhile taken the brand new cooking utensils out of the equally new cupboards.

Darren slowly nodded.

“Is that why she had the bots give the mess a makeover?”

With my initial preparation done, I entered the discussion again.

“Yep. You need a fridge, a freezer, pots and pans, a stove, an oven, and many other utensils to cook. And for that, you need cupboards and other similar things.”

“And you will cook for us?”

“Not every day. It is a bit of a time hog after all. But a few times a week, yes, I plan to.”

He looked at the others, and then back at me.

“Why? Why cook for us?”

“Because I am most likely the only one here who can.”

Ben snorted again, and Christine glared at him, but Darren just sighed.

“Yes, most likely. But I meant why do you want to give us real food? That shit is expensive as hell.”

I shrugged while I measured the ingredients for the pasta.

“Yes, it is. But I refuse to do without real food any longer. And making it for me, letting you smell and see it, but not giving you any would be cruel.”

Understanding bloomed in his face.

“And unless we do something to really piss you off, you are anything but cruel.”

Then concern replaced the understanding in his expression.

“Can you afford that for all of us?”

I just waved a hand dismissively.

“Yes, of course. Compared to the industrial fabber the cost for the food is barely a rounding error.”

Jacky had stood up and come closer.

“And what are you making?”

“Pasta. Did you not listen?”

“Yes, but what is pasta?”

“Some European dish, Italian I think. Do you know noodles?”

She seemed a bit unsure but nodded slowly.

“These are these thin strips of… whatever in some of the soups?”

“Yes. Pasta is essentially a form of noodles. What I am making is spaghetti, a tiny bit thicker than the ones in the soup, but much much longer. Together with fresh sauce, meatballs, and a bit of cheese and you will be astonished.”

“Uhm, ok… if you say so. And I can help you?”

“Sure. You can cut the tomatoes. One moment, let me show you how.”

I took one of the tomatoes, cut it in half, and then pointed at the stalk.

“First you half it, like that, and then you cut out these bits here and throw them into this small bucket. After that, you cut it in small cubes like that.”

I demonstrated what I meant, shoving the cubes into a bowl.

“See, simple as that. It does not need to be too even. Just cut it into small chunks.”

After that, the others came closer and asked what they could do.

A few minutes later we were all standing around the table preparing the food. I had them mix the premeasured ingredients, cut the vegetables, while I began to prepare the meatballs.

Over the next few hours, incredible smells began to waft through the whole building, and slowly but steadily, all the others came looking into what was going on. Finally, it was done.

In the last step, I unwrapped the Italian cheese and placed the grater beside it. I had directed the others to prepare the table, making sure that the motorized fork was placed in front of Mark, and then began to dish out the food.

When we all sat down, everybody, with the exception of Ben, looked at me questioning. Oh, right, almost nobody ever had spaghetti.

I shrugged, took the cheese and grater from Ben, who had garnished his portion already.

“The first thing is to grate a bit of cheese over your pasta, like this.” I did so for myself.

“Mia, could you please do that for Mark? Thank you.” With that, I gave the cheese and grater to Jacky, who sat on my side.

“Now the next step is, well it is actually easy as soon as you have the technique down, but until then, you will probably have to use the fork and the spoon, like this.”

I demonstrated how to wind up the spaghetti on the fork with the help of the spoon.

“Mark, for you I have gotten a motorized spaghetti fork. These are usually a pretty tacky gimmick, but in your situation, they actually work well. Just stab the fork into the pasta, and press the button. Take care not to wind up too much. Then you just shove the wound-up pasta in your mouth. Very easy. You can skewer the meatballs.”

I lifted the fork with the pasta towards my mouth.

“Now, dig in and enjoy!”

For the next half hour, the ‘conversation’ was reduced to moaning, appreciating humming, and similar non-verbal communication forms.