We raced past seemingly endless machines, delving deeper into the arcade in search of the vending machines. After what felt like too long, the bright neon sign advertising food came into view, and I pushed myself to run faster to catch up as Dina pulled ahead. However, as she reached the end of the row, she came to a sudden stop.

I looked around, trying to work out why, before my eyes fell upon the machines that lined the entire back wall. My mouth dropped open, and I couldn’t help but stare. The vending machines before me were nothing like the sad and boring machines that I was used to that spat out bags of crisps or drinks and, more often than not, just stole whatever money I put into them. They were so much more.

Each one had a panel displaying pictures of the items inside, but they weren’t just snacks or drinks. They were entire meals. There were tacos, burritos, slices of pizza, and more. I couldn’t look away. I longed to run down the line and push buttons at random. There were so many options, and I wanted to try them all.

Anxiety flared in my chest, and I glanced across at Dina, suddenly realising that she must have seen my reaction. I hadn’t hid my shock well, and she would probably think it was weird. I’d seen the machines before. I’d eaten from them with her so many times. They should not have been such a surprise to me, but they were.

Luckily, Dina wasn’t looking at me. She was staring at the machine right in front of us, her eyes wide and her jaw slack. Slowly, she took a small step forward, seemingly scared of getting too close to it.

“Oh, my…” she whispered before ripping her eyes away from the machine and looking at me. Her hand shot out, grabbing my arm. “It finally happened. Clea, it finally happened!”

Her voice rose to shriek, and her grip on my arm tightened. I glanced back at the machine as I tried to work out what she was talking about and why her fingers were digging into me so tightly. For a moment, my mind was entirely blank, but then a flutter of excitement shot through me. It was nothing more than an echo, but as I stared at the pictures, I worked out what was happening.

The machine had changed. It had been replaced, I was pretty sure. It looked too new, too spotless. The other ones were clean as well. There were no marks on them or anything, but there was something about the one Dina was staring at that just looked so… new. It was the images. They were bright, not faded like the other pictures. They must have just been replaced.

No, not replaced. It was not simply old options with new pictures; it was new options. A whole new menu. They weren’t lying when they said new items were coming, but I’d expected one or two, not…

“What are you going to get?” I asked in a hushed voice.

Dina took another tiny step forward.

“I don’t know,” she breathed. “I was just going to get a chickun burrito, but…”

I stared at the pictures, scanning the options.

“Now, you have to go for something new?” I said, finishing her sentence for her. “What are you thinking? They have hot dogs and… Oh.”

A gasp came from Dina as she spotted it at the exact same time I did. Her hand shot out, and she stabbed one of the buttons.

“They brought it back,” she whispered. “I can’t believe it.”

I was just as shocked as Dina. They never normally brought a food item back after it had been discontinued. It usually happened for a good reason. Either people got bored and stopped eating the item, or it was difficult to manufacture and not nutritious enough to be worth it. New things were brought out sporadically. They were rolled out across the city, generally popping up in diners and cafes first before being added to the food options we could order at home.

I’d asked my parents about it before. I didn’t get why they put so much time and effort into creating new options for us to eat when they usually had a similar number of nutrients. It was good, don’t get me wrong. I liked trying the new foods, but we would have been fine with just a handful of options.

It was intentional, apparently. The government liked to give people variety and choice, and that fascinated me. People craved change, according to them. But not too much and only for things that didn’t really matter. It was a delicate balance. If there was too much, the citizens could become overwhelmed. They’d feel out of control, and that ended badly. But small things like new food options, television shows or plays were good.

They were designed to allow people to have novel experiences, my parents had said. That was important to them. Everyone wanted new experiences, and if they were allowed small ones, ones that made no real difference to the big picture, that kept them from searching for anything else. It kept the city in balance.

And that was another reason why they didn’t normally bring items back. They weren’t new, and people grew bored of them even quicker than they had before, but they’d done it. Dina’s favourite burger was back. It had been removed from the machines years ago, not long after we started going to the arcades, but I could still remember how sad she was.

They’d stopped serving it anywhere else, too. That should have been a sign it was about to be removed, but it still took us by surprise. We were young, I guess. We didn’t know back then. Still, we’d gone to every cafe, diner and vending machine all over the city, searching for one that served that chilli-topped burger with crunchy bits, but none were.

But that had all changed. It was back in the machine, which meant other places were probably going to start serving it again too, and that made me so excited for Dina. She was clearly thrilled too.

I looked across at her, a smile on my face as I watched her bounce on the balls of her feet, staring at the countdown. There were only twenty seconds left, and then she’d finally be able to eat it again.

“What are you going to have?” Dina asked, nodding towards the images without looking away from the timer.

I hesitated, cocking my head as I looked at the options.

“I’m not sure,” I said.

I’d been drawn to one of the hot dogs, but I couldn’t bring myself to push any of the buttons. It was silly, but they worried me. I was a vegetarian in real life; I didn’t eat meat. There weren’t any signs or stickers on the vending machine that told me what I could eat. I could have just chosen anything. I knew that. I probably wasn’t a vegetarian in that world, so it didn’t matter too much, but I still didn’t really want to do it.

My eyebrows pulled together as a realisation came over me. All of the food there was vegetarian. They didn’t eat any meat. They couldn’t. There weren’t any animals in the city, not except a few birds and bugs, but that was because they were needed to pollinate the plants. We’d die if we didn’t allow them.

But that was it. Any other animals were a disease risk, and there wasn’t enough space for them anyway. We only just had enough space for the citizens, and that was only because the government controlled the population carefully.

Sadness washed over me, the feeling strangely distant. I wasn’t sure where it came from, but part of me was sad that I’d never be able to have a pet in that world. I didn’t have one in my real life either, but I did in some, and I missed that.

My hand shot out, choosing one of the options at random as I tried to push away the sadness and confusion that swirled in my mind.

“Oh, good choice,” Dina said. “Start with the plain one, and then you can go for the topped ones once you know how good it is!”

I smiled hesitantly, glancing at the picture I’d chosen. It was stupid, but I was a little disappointed in myself. Some of the other ones looked better. They were more fun, and the plain hot dog was boring. It did look pretty good, though. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.

Actually… I couldn’t remember what the food was like in that world. It seemed okay, though, from what I could remember. I’d find out soon enough, though.

A loud ding came from the machine, and a panel slid back, revealing an incredible-looking burger. Chilli cascaded down onto the tray below, soaking the bottom bun and concealing it from view. Dina reached for it eagerly, licking her lips as she pulled the tray closer.

The panel slid shut, and a new countdown appeared on the screen as my food began cooking. I saw Dina glance at the number before looking back down at her burger, shuffling back and forth impatiently, and I had to fight the urge to laugh. She was such a good friend for waiting for me, even though it was clear that she wanted nothing more than to shove the entire burger into her mouth immediately.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“You don’t need to wait,” I told her. “Go sit down. I’ll come over in… thirty-three seconds.”

Dina was already turning before I’d finished speaking.

“Thanks,” she called over her shoulder as she rushed away towards the nearest table.

I chuckled softly, looking back at the timer. Impatience grew within me as I watched the number slowly tick down. Even though it was apparently counting seconds, they seemed much longer than a normal second, and that infuriated me. I managed to get up to fifty in my head before the timer reached zero, and the panel slid open again.

The hot dog did look a bit sad, I realised as I pulled the tray out of the machine. It looked too dry, and there were no condiments anywhere that I could see, so I couldn’t even top it with something to make it more palatable. It smelt good, though. A smokey, meaty aroma filled my nose as I breathed in deeply, and my stomach rumbled. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.

I turned and hurried towards the table where Dina was already seated. The burger was clutched in her hands, and chilli dripped onto the tray below, but Dina didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were closed, and her expression was blissful.

“How is it?” I asked as I slid into the seat opposite her. “As good as you remember?”

It had been so long since she’d had it last, and I was worried she’d built it up in her head until it was impossible for anything to meet her expectations. It would be so sad if she were disappointed by it, but luckily, a wide smile grew on her lips.

“It’s even better,” she said, her voice brimming with what I could only describe as reverence. “I think they managed to improve it somehow. It’s so good!”

I laughed in relief as Dina took another bite, her eyes shutting again.

“I’m glad!”

Looking down, I eyed the hot dog before me. It looked a little too perfect. The sausage was a perfectly uniform colour, and so was the bun. It was too shiny, and I was pretty sure it looked identical to the image on the machine. That should have been a good thing, but it just made me suspicious. I didn’t trust that it would be that good.

I lifted it from the tray, giving the bread an experimental squeeze. It was soft, squidgy. Pretty much everything I looked for in a bun. And it was the perfect temperature. Everything about it seemed perfect.

Unable to put it off any longer, I took a bite. Surprise rushed through me as flavour filled my mouth. It was delicious. Shockingly so. It tasted almost exactly like a hot dog that I could get in real life, or maybe a little better.

“How is it?” Dina asked after a few seconds, pushing her now-empty tray away from her.

I chewed my mouthful quickly, swallowing it before saying, “It’s good!”

“Oh, good! I was so worried it would be all weird and crumbly like the sausages they used to do at the diner,” Dina said with a delicate shudder. “Did they manage to fix that?”

I hesitated, taking another bite and chewing it carefully. There had been something a little strange about it. I hadn’t paid too much attention to it before, but as soon as Dina said that, I realised that she was right. It was fine before. When I’d been eating quickly, I barely noticed the texture, but I made the mistake of slowing down and paying attention to it.

A grimace came over my face, and Dina burst out laughing.

“Oh no,” she said, her tone sympathetic despite her laughter. “I guess not. Do you want me to get you some water? That might make it easier to finish?”

“Yes, please,” I said, looking down at the hot dog.

I had less than half to go. Probably just over a quarter, really. I could manage that. I didn’t really have any other option. Wasting food wasn’t really a thing that was done in our city. The only exception was if it had turned, and then it was a disease risk, and it could be recycled and made into compost. Unfortunately, the hot dog hadn’t gone off. It was just gross.

Dina hurried back towards me, a glass bottle in each hand.

“Here,” she said. “Sorry for mentioning it! I feel like I ruined the hot dog for you.”

“No, not at all,” I lied before downing some water. “I’d already realised something about it was bad. I just couldn’t work out what.”

Dina smiled sympathetically.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yeah!”

Still, she didn’t quite seem to believe me. Either that, or she just felt guilty anyway.

“Do you…” she started hesitantly, staring down at my tray. “How crumbly is it?”

I looked down at the hot dog as well, considering it.

“Not as bad as the breakfast sausages they had a few years back, but definitely… powdery.”

Disgust appeared on Dina’s face before she let out a resigned sigh.

“Okay,” she said reluctantly. “Do you want me to split it with you?”

I laughed. It was a sweet offer, but the way she said it was so funny. It was as if she were offering to crawl across broken glass or tell her parents she’d changed her mind and that engineering was her true passion.

“I couldn’t do that to you,” I said.

“Do you want me to sneak it into the recycler outside so people don’t see you doing it?” she offered.

“No, but thank you.”

Dina’s expression became even more determined.

“In that case, rip it in half,” she said firmly.

“You don’t have to.”

I truly didn’t want to finish the hot dog, but I also didn’t want her to have to eat it either.

“I want to,” she said, but it was clear she was lying. “I’ve always wanted to know if there’s a worse item than the damn fish-like sticks that gave me food poisoning for three weeks that time.”

“Dina,” I said with a laugh. “It’s really not that bad.”

“Clea, I swear I will shoot you in the back of the head during Ice Escape if you don’t rip that damn thing in half and give it to me right now,” she said.

I reached for it, doing as she ordered but making sure to give her the much smaller part.

“Okay, okay,” I relented. “I can’t believe you’d ruin our chances like that.”

She shoved the half I gave her into her mouth, a wince on her face as she chewed quickly before lifting the bottle to her lips and downing it.

“Urgh,” she said, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. “You lied. That was so bad. Plus, I wouldn’t ruin our chances.”

I copied her, forcing myself to swallow the last of my food whilst chewing it as little as possible. I could feel my throat rebelling, but I tipped water into my mouth, forcing it down.

“No?” I rasped before drinking more. “The bosses from level eight onwards need two people. How would you lay the trap for that moose thing?”

Dina cocked her head, considering it.

“I’d wait until I found a resurrection crystal, then do it,” she decided. “Or, I’d do it right at the beginning. We get into the room, boom, I shoot you, then myself. Game over, and we go again.”

I almost choked on the last of my water.

“Damn,” I said, screwing the lid back onto the bottle. “I’m glad I gave you half then.”

“I’m not,” Dina replied darkly, narrowing her eyes at me. “I’ll put the trays back.”

“Thanks!” I called after her, rubbing my stomach with one hand, trying to work out if I wanted more food.

A slice of pizza was a good option. As long as I stayed away from the fish-like topped options, I knew it would be good. I glanced towards the machine, deliberating it, but nothing really called out to me. I could wait. We’d probably go to the diner after we’d finished in the arcade. That was what we normally did anyway.

“Ready?” Dina asked as she returned.

“I think so,” I said, excitement rising in me as I stood. “What do you want to do? World Designer? Or do you want to just go straight for Ice Escape so we have more time on the machine before other people start getting here?”

Dina hesitated, glancing towards the machines. I could tell that she wanted to play Ice Escape, but her burger had been pretty big, and she was probably full. She’d need time to digest it before running around.

“I’m not—”

“We should get Mom and Dad some flowers as a thank you for letting us stay in their house,” my mom’s voice echoed through my head, blocking out Dina’s response.

“Yeah, good idea,” I heard myself say, barely paying attention to it as I pushed reality away.

“Maybe a short game?” Dina suggested.

“Yeah, that makes sense. We could—”

“And some wine would be nice,” my mom continued, interrupting me that time.

Irritation burnt through me. I didn’t know why she was saying it like the idea had just occurred to her. She did it every single year. On the last day, she’d make us go out, checking her phone constantly the entire time. Then, on the drive home, she’d decide we needed to get them a thank you gift.

It was always the same thing, too. An expensive bouquet of flowers that my mom agonised about for hours and the same bottle of wine that she always went for. It was the one my grandparents usually drank, but I was pretty sure they didn’t touch any of the bottles she got them out of pure spite.

Plus, it didn’t really matter how long she spent picking out the flowers. It never did. I was pretty sure they died on the kitchen table long before my grandparents ever got the chance to see them. Not that they’d care at all about that.

The thought made my heart ache a little. My mom put so much time and thought into selecting the perfect bouquet. She considered the meaning of the flowers, which would match the decor of the house, and whether they were similar but not too similar to the flowers that my grandmother or the gardener had planted that year.

It worried her so much, and she cared about it, but I was pretty sure neither of my grandparents had so much as thanked her for them. They’d probably never even mentioned them to her. It was just another way of dismissing her and showing that they didn’t care, I guess.

“Yeah, good point,” I heard myself say distantly. “Okay, so just a short game of World Designer?”

I didn’t even hear Dina’s response. I was already pulling away from that world. It was guilt that was motivating me. I wanted to stay in the arcade and play World Designer, but I felt so bad for my mom. She was ignored by her parents enough; I didn’t want to ignore her too. She deserved more than that.

But as the car around me spun, and I squeezed my lips together to keep my lunch inside and not sprayed all over the interior of the car, I almost changed my mind. The dizziness was overpowering. White spots exploded in my vision, and I forced myself to suck in shallow breaths as I silently whispered a plea or a prayer to anyone who would listen.