Chapter Fifty-Five - Hunger of the Masses

“With VKO you can set up your own restaurant in as few as twenty clicks and for less than a hundred thousand credits.

Just pick the menu, upload your logo, name your new restaurant, and bam! Your own tailor-made virtual dining experience is up and running!

Compatible with all of your favourite online dining apps!”

--VKO Virtual Kitchen Online ad, 2026

***

“So, what are they complaining about, exactly?” I asked. It was a semi-rhetorical question. I was on my way down and out of the hotel--using the elevator, because why would I sneak out--while eying up the protestors’ media feed.

Would-be-protestors. They were still huddled up in their homes, for the most part. A few had gone out to meet each other, it seemed, and the urge to do something was clearly spreading as people egged each other on, but for the moment things had yet to start popping off.

A quick scroll showed a lot of people complaining, and a lot of people encouraging each other to get out there and do more than just complain online.

It felt a little like I was watching the pressure building in a can that was about to burst. It needed a release, and I was worried that the release would cause some serious trouble. Most of all for me.

I didn’t mind people wanting to protest and hell, they were right, shit wasn’t fine. The problem was that while their protests would certainly kick things into high gear when it came to fixing some issues, it would also cause a number of new, fresh issues as well.

The complaints seem to be divided along three main points of contention. Four, really. The first is the quarantine that has been implemented across the city.

“There’s a quarantine?” I asked as I got out of the elevator. A few of the guards looked at me suspiciously, but if I was leaving, then I wasn’t going to be their problem for long.

It’s not in full effect. But there are Stay-At-Home measures in place at the moment. People travelling out of their homes will receive warnings. There are forms that can be filled to justify the leaving, and these can be filed in advance, but the restrictions are chafing.

I frowned, then went searching for some of those forms myself. I could see why people were annoyed a moment later. The form was top of the line bureaucratic bullshit. The first half asked for manual entry of information that my augs should have provided already, then I had to give a reason why I wanted to leave, where I would go, and when I’d be back. Failure to disclose the right information or come home late, or not go where I was supposed to, would result in a fine.

Or it would, for a normal person, I wasn’t going to bother with this.

“Okay, that needs streamlining. Who implemented this?”

The militia and the city government. It’s meant to reduce the number of people on the streets and in dangerous areas. It’s also meant to help keep track of citizens. It’s wildly inefficient, and there are several ways around it. The fines being credit-based also mean that anyone with sufficient resources can merely ignore them. But, they have proven to be successful in reducing the number of bodies on the streets and outside of their own designated housing areas.

I nodded along as I left the building. I wasn’t sure where to go from there, but I started towards the centre of the city. I wanted a walk to think, in any case.

Looking through some links Myalis gave me, I could see that the protestor faction had already found ways to break that system. It helped that some of the more vocal members were also on the city staff responsible for the quarantine system to begin with.

“Right, that needs fixing,” I said. “Table it as something I need to get a professional’s help with. Next?”

The Second issue is the militia and police force.

“The cops?” I asked.

Indeed. While the militia and police are separate entities, they are working together. There are several reports of violence against citizens, beatings, theft, profiling, sexual assault, and more. I can confirm the veracity of some, others were exaggerated for effect.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered. I never expected to be on the same side of things as the fucking police, but here I was. “Can you do me a favour, find out who the worst offenders are, tell the... chief of police or whatever. Get their badges, arrest those that went too far. It’ll reduce the number of cops we have, but fuck it. It’s at least one thing we can do to appease the protestors, and I don’t like dirty cops besides. Oh, and tell the chief of police that if he doesn’t, I’ll throw him over the wall with whatever police-issue peashooter he has.”

Noted. Message sent. The third issue is the growth of rumours regarding our food shortage. Unfortunately, since these issues are founded in fact, they are rather persistent.

“Tends to work that way, yeah,” I said. “Okay. What’s Manic up to?”

She left the city with a militia convoy to start her grocery store raids.

Oh, thank fuck, I didn’t want to do everything myself. That didn’t mean I couldn’t help. “Let’s set up a bigger food supply,” I said. “Maybe someplace central. I guess the mall could work. Do I have anything like that big ass printer I have back home, but for food?”

There are similar options available. Most need to be fed on organic matter. But raw organic matter is exceptionally cheap and can easily be turned into simple foodstuffs. Breads, protein mixes, meat-substitutes, et cetera.

“Sounds like a good idea, then,” I said. “We make the raw foods, get some people to cook them.”

As opposed to making the finished product?

“Yeah, because then we’ll have cooks and people working on food, and they’ll see that there’s plenty of food for everyone. Rumours will spread.”

That is surprisingly insightful.

“I have my moments,” I said. Really, I was recalling some of the leaner times at the orphanage when food was scarce. It was always nice to buy some raw ingredients and cook something. The act of seeing something being made calmed the kids down a lot, even if it was just PB and J... which was about the only thing I could cook. Lucy was better.

“How many cooks are there in Burlington? Or... how many restaurants?”

There are currently thirty-six thousand restaurants in the city of Burlington.

I blinked. “What? Wait, what’s the population here?”

A little under half a million.

“What the fuck, that doesn’t make any sense,” I said, my other trains of thought entirely derailed for a moment.

Those are registered restaurants. Most of them are ghost restaurants. Several fronts all situated within the same industrial kitchen serving the same food across multiple brands.

“Ah, capitalist fuckery,” I said. That made more sense. “How many cooks, then?” I asked.

A few thousand are registered. Do you want me to send a call out for them?

“Do it. Tell them to show up at the Mall at... nine-thirty. Sign it with my name. Tell them that we’ll be... appropriating a few of those restaurants to start serving people throughout the city. Fuck, we’re going to need an app or something.”

That seems amusing. I’ll take care of it. Perhaps we can start competing brands between ourselves and the city’s other Vanguard? Chez Stray Cats?

“You’re a riot,” I deadpanned. “You mentioned a fourth problem?”

Indeed. There’s a growing envy of the Kittens.

“You mean the people Lucy’s working with?” I asked.

Yes, since the positions are limited and they’re seen using Vanguard technology and assisting on the front lines, the active members of the Kittens have begun to brag. Naturally, this has created a slight schism between them and those who cannot or will not join.

“That’s the stupidest shit,” I said.

A number of people within the ranks of the organisers of this protest agree. It’s the most hotly debated point of contention among them. I don’t think anything will come of it, not as long as new opportunities to join the Kittens group arise.

I took a moment to wonder at the incredible stupidity of humanity. Unfortunately, a moment was all I could spare. “Is Intel-chan awake yet?” I asked

Their alarm went off six minutes ago. They are still doing their morning ablutions.

A bit too much information. “Tell them to call me as soon as they’re free,” I said. “We’re gonna put them in charge of the logistics for the food thing. Do you think the protestors will calm down?”

It’s possible. But I doubt it. You’ve mitigated several of the reasons they have to protest, or will, in any case, but the anger has risen already. It will take more than that to calm them down.

“Any advice, then?” I asked, because I didn’t know what to do about it.

***