I Am Food

By Scot McAtee

He thought he was signing up for eight years of government service that would carry him away from a miserable life. He believed his decision would help not only himself but others. But he got much more than he bargained for.

A storm has rendered “Food” homeless and his bosses have written him off as dead or retired. He finds himself truly free for the first time in his life. He can go anywhere, do anything, be anyone, but there’s a problem. Two hundred years have passed, not eight.

In this spellbinding tale of a man searching for the one thing that so many of us spend our whole lives seeking—a place to belong—Scot McAtee introduces us to a variety of characters and situations that are sometimes humorous and sometimes shameful, yet always mysterious and entertaining. This

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scot McAtee
• Release date: Aug 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476157658

Scot McAtee

Scot McAtee started out his professional life teaching High School English in Northern Indiana. After a year long stint in Inchon, Korea, teaching English to native Koreans, he returned to Indiana where he teaches High School classes in Business and Computer Sciences. He spends his free time creating movies, video games, digital music and writing other sci-fi and horror novels. His favorite authors are George Orwell, Kurt Vonnegut, Aldous Huxley and Clive Cussler. And although it may be hard for Westerners to see the likeness, his Korean students frequently called him Brad Pitt.

Book preview

Chapter 1

I am Food, said the young man.

The ancient Oriental man stared at him strangely and grunted. Hmm? What did you say?

I am Food, the young man repeated.

There was an awkward silence as the Old Man processed the strange remark, but then he grinned thinly and shuffled toward an inner room of the pagoda, calling out to his guest as he went.

That is a strange name to go by, the Old Man chuckled. Wait a moment, I’ll get us something to eat.

He disappeared from view. The young man heard him opening and closing cabinet doors, rattling dishes. A few minutes later he reappeared, dragging a little cart behind him by means of a skinny rope. There were strange items on it, things the young man had never seen before, things that he wouldn’t have considered food, things that probably should have been growing in a nature preserve.

The Old Man inched his way toward the table, one baby step at a time, tugging the cart forward with each movement. He finally reached the table and slowly lowered himself to the floor, using his cane to aid himself. The young man—Food—watched as his host removed each and every item from the cart, carefully placing each of the white porcelain bowls onto the carved mahogany table.

Presentation is very important, the Old Man smiled as he rearranged the bowls into a circle and then moved them around so that the colors of their contents resembled a rainbow on the table. The young man watched quietly, fascinated and hungry but lost in the cultural significance.

Eventually, the Old Man pushed a medium sized bowl of rice across the highly polished table and invited Food to eat.

The young man promptly stuck his hand in one of the bowls and began to talk.

Where is this place? he asked. The Old Man made an irritated expression and stared at Food’s hand before looking him in the eye.

Don’t you know? the Old Man responded, still staring at Food’s hand. The young man had no idea that putting his hand into his rice was any sort of offense and so failed to fathom that the disapproving look was meant for him.

No, he replied. After the storm ripped my house from its mooring, the electricity went dead and I’ve been floating around for days. It was only this morning that I woke up and found that I had finally reached solid ground.

The Old Man nodded. The storm, eh? That was a bad one, was it not? Well my friend, you are outside Hammond, Louisiana and this is my humble home. He waved an arm toward the rest of the house and the young man’s eyes followed his motion around the room. He examined the minimal decorations, noting that there were no pictures anywhere, only items that appeared to be handcrafted sculptures or carvings.

What is your name, again, my son? the Old Man asked. I’m sorry but I’m very old and my memory isn’t what it used to be.

I am Food, said the young man. I’m in charge of the Old New Orleans Region. I coordinate all food supplies in this region.

Pleased to meet you, Food. Do you remember your given name?

Given name?

The name you were born with?

No.

Interesting, he nodding knowingly. Oh well, perhaps one day you will. May I have the bowl back?

Food passed his now empty bowl back, thanking him for his hospitality.

Yes, you are welcome, the Old Man smiled, But next time you must try eating it with your mouth.

But I prefer to absorb it.

You must try it my way next time. If not for pleasure, then out of respect for me and my customs, please.

Food nodded. He might not have good social skills, but as a government worker he could take orders as well as anyone else. Yes sir, he replied, now slightly aware and ashamed of his actions.

The Old Man began to stand up again, which was a laborious effort for him. Only when it occurred to Food that the Old Man meant to return the dirty dishes to the kitchen did he jump up and offer to drag the cart back to the kitchen for him. The Old Man chuckled but refused the help. You wouldn’t put things in their proper places, he told Food. I can’t stand it when things are not ordered properly.

When the Old Man returned, he sat down on the floor again, cross legged, and smiled widely.

Now, what would you like to talk about? he asked pleasantly.

Food was unsure of what to say or do as he’d had no contact with flesh and blood people for quite a while. I don’t know, he said.

The Old Man never broke his smile. Then let us start at the beginning.

You are a government employee. You work for the people. You exist to make the lives of the Great Peoples of the Earth better.

Food nodded.

You were once like me, the Old Man continued.

Old?

No, the Old Man laughed. You were once a free citizen. You went to work for the government, probably because you were once very poor or running away from some horrible life, and they gave you a job and used you for their purposes to the greatest extent possible. You don’t remember anything before your service.

Something in the Old Man’s statement rang true.

The Old Man went on. You have given all you can give, and now you are free, having served your time. Now, you must learn the truths of life.

You sound like my videogames, Food said.

Videogames, huh? the Old Man sneered. I never cared for them. They rot your brain.

Food didn’t respond.

Anyway, continued the Old Man, I was once like you. I too served in the government. I was called Oriental Entertainment and I was in charge of creating the plots for any Martial Arts movies or games that people watched or played. Then he looked over Food and added, Probably since before you were born.

Food was impressed to be in the presence of someone so important. To have a title with no location attached meant that one was in the uppermost echelons of the system.

Martial Arts were Food’s passion and he couldn’t contain himself. I love those! I spent my entire service playing them, like Super Ninja Rebel 2! It was incredible! He gushed over the game like a school boy recounting his first encounter with a girl. The Old Man nodded politely the whole time and when Food finally stopped talking for a moment, the Old Man tipped his head and said, I’m glad you liked them.

There was an awkward moment of silence, then Food asked, If you are not part of the government anymore, than what is your name now? asked Food.

You may call me whatever you like, the Old Man smiled.

Food laughed. Really? Okay, how about… Normally, Food would have been very quick with a smart comment, but he was so out of practice, having served the last eight years in a more-or-less self imposed exile, that he couldn’t think of anything ribald.

…How about… Buddha? he finally managed to say. You look like a little old Buddha to me.

The Old Man bobbed his head in acceptance.

Are you going to tell me your real name? Food asked when he realized the Old Man was toying with him.

No, the Old Man replied. I like the idea that to you I will be Enlightenment. That is what a Buddha is, after all.

HA! Food got the joke and was thrilled to have met someone else with a like mind. Then you must call me Grasshopper from now on!

Done, Grasshopper! laughed the Old Man.

Done, Master Buddha! laughed Food.

Chapter 2

The next day Food and Buddha sat together under a weeping willow tree on the Old Man’s spacious front yard. It was a stubby, bushy tree that leaned way over the fast moving water of the shallow river that bordered Buddha’s property. The Old Man dipped his feet in the cool water and leaned back against the trunk. Food studied the Old Man but did not imitate him.

Buddha wrinkled his brow and told Food, Grasshopper, you should dip your feet in the water.

Why?

Because it feels good, he grinned, revealing a full mouth of withered, yellow teeth.

So what? replied Food. He was never one to be concerned about what other people did. He hadn’t been raised that way.

But that’s what most people live for, Buddha returned.

Feeling good?

Yes. Don’t you like to feel good?

He had never really thought about it before. He couldn’t remember a time that it really mattered. His life before governmental service wasn’t particularly happy but neither was it particularly horrible. For him, life was nothing but a series of tasks to be completed before you died. That was why he joined the government. You were given what you asked for, provided with a safe place to live, and all you had to do was allow the government to use your brain. The more brain you allowed to be used, the more compensation you received. His compensation had come in the form of videogames—with more government brain came more levels and more games. Tucked up nicely in his little cubicle home, life was quiet, dry and easy. There was no pain, no hunger, no emotion. It was much better than his pre-government life. He never had to worry about what horrible tragedy was waiting just around the corner, which is what life had been for him until he signed the documents allowing the government into his head, and that was just fine with him.

But now that he thought about it, he realized that blasting terrorists and fighting off aliens and going on digital adventures made him feel good, really good. So perhaps yes, he liked to feel good, but he didn’t really care if he was happy or not.

I like to feel superior, he finally said.

The Old Man studied him, smiling the whole time. Of course you do, Grasshopper. Of course you do.

They spent the rest of the afternoon talking about Food’s life during government work. Though he was never much of a social creature, he was surprisingly excited to have someone to talk to about the games he’d spent his entire career playing. The Old Man listened closely, but he kept a knowing look on his face that caused a bit Food to feel a bit uneasy. Had Food known what was in store for him, he wouldn’t have stayed there a second longer but would have locked himself in his cubicle and stayed there until the authorities came to get him.

The sun was setting before Food finally stopped talking about his games. He was physically worn out from emulating the actions in them, so he took a deep breath and sighed, then moved around to where he was sitting against the willow’s trunk, next to Buddha. Together, they watched the skies fade through a rainbow of colors before finally darkening into a midnight blue. Once the fireflies were out, Food noticed that the air had begun to get cool. The Old Man climbed to his feet, propping himself up with his cane and said, Time to eat.

They went back into the old man’s pagoda, Food following close behind. Buddha looked frailer with each step.

Once inside, the Old Man instructed Food to sit at the table again and wait for him to cook something up, but Food dissented.

You look tired. Why don’t you let me get you something?

The Old Man shook his head vigorously, mumbled something quietly that Food couldn’t make out, and shuffled into the kitchen. When he returned with two bowls of fried rice and vegetables, Food quickly grabbed one the bowls and shoved his hand in it. He made no movement to convey the food to his mouth.

No, you must not absorb it, the Old Man frowned. You must taste it.

Initially Food resisted but the Old Man pressured him until he acquiesced.

He grabbed a handful of the stuff out of the bowl and rudely shoved it into his mouth. Almost immediately he choked.

The Old Man laughed heartily as bits of rice and chunks of broccoli flew out of the young man’s mouth. Only when it became apparent that Food was not going to be able to clear the food from his throat did he react. With one powerful smack on the back, a chunk of cauliflower shot from Food’s mouth and he gasped for air.

Why did you wait so long? he admonished his host.

Because you must learn to eat properly. Now, again Grasshopper.

Unused to the custom of eating in the traditional manner, Food kept at it until his bowl was empty, but he didn’t enjoy a single moment of it. It was much more efficient to absorb consumables than to waste time chewing.

I’m tired. I must sleep, he croaked when he was done.

The Old Man nodded and let him go back to the empty, unpowered block of plastic that was his home.

Chapter 3

A week passed. Food had assumed that someone would come to rescue him, but no one had. Each time he brought up the subject with the Old Man, he was greeted by a grin and a shrug. It seemed that the oldster did not care about Food’s plight.

Buddha, he griped one day when he’d finally lost his temper, Why do you always laugh when I talk about being rescued?

Because, Grasshopper, I have been around long enough to know how things work.

And how is that?

When the storm came and whisked you away, the government immediately listed you as missing and probably dead. You no longer exist.

Food was understandably shocked. But, I’m an important part of the government. People won’t get their food if I can’t work. And I can’t play any games either if I’m disconnected from the network. This is horrible!

The Old Man nodded. Yes, but the government is efficient and practical, as it should be. It would cost more in time, money, and resources to mount a search for one little man who is easily replaced. It is simple economics and not to be taken personally.

It’s terrible! cried Food. I’m a human. Shouldn’t I be a higher priority for them? Isn’t that what all government is about? To serve and protect the people?

The Old Man stopped smiling. The government serves and protects the people. You are not people. You are the government. No one is there to serve or protect you.

Food was stunned. He mulled over the old man’s words for a good long while. In fact, he thought so long and hard about what Buddha had said that he didn’t notice when the Old Man left him and went and took up his favorite place under the willow tree, dipping his feet in the cool river water as was his custom.

Finally, when Food had processed what the Old Man had told him, he chased after him and demanded, So what is the difference between the government and the people, if the government is made up of people?

The Old Man snickered. Now we have reached it.

Reached what?

Your awakening to reality.

I don’t understand.

No, the Old Man agreed, You won’t for a while.

Then tell me please. Explain it. I’m not stupid, Food returned.

No, the Old Man said again. You’re not stupid, and that is why I can’t tell you the difference.

Then how am I to learn?

A big grin slowly crept across the Old Man’s face. You will have to see the world for yourself to make that decision.

Food studied the Old Man’s face.

What the heck does that mean? he demanded.

The Old Man didn’t bother to look up, nor did he say anything. In fact, he didn’t move at all.

This is like Kung Fu Quest, isn’t it? Food asked. So I’m supposed to go on some quest, searching for a key or something, right?

The Old Man didn’t move.

Well, is it? Food demanded. Is it?

There was no movement from the Old Man. Food started to wonder if the old guy had fallen asleep or if he was just ignoring him.

Buddha?

He waited for a response, but none came.

Buddha? He nudged the Old Man with a foot but there was still no response. He bent down and grabbed the Old Man angrily by the shoulders.

You can’t get out of it that easily, he grunted, shaking the Old Man rather strongly.

The Old Man’s head fell over onto his chest and then his whole body collapsed toward Food who, startled, quickly jumped up and away, letting go of him as he did. Unfortunately, when he let go, there was nothing to keep the Old Man up. His body crumpled forward, falling face down into the shallow river. The fast moving current quickly whisked him downstream and away from Food.

Food, paralyzed in horror, watched the scene unfold before him. Like a statue he stared dumbly as the Old Man’s body disappeared around a bend.

Thirty minutes later, he was finally able to move and speak again. He realized that he was completely alone for the first time in his life. It made him nervous.

The light was fading fast and soon it would be dark. He began to hear strange noises in the trees lining the property and his mind, trained by years of videogames, immediately assigned the most horrible demons and zombies to those otherwise innocuous noises.

He ran back to his cubicle and barricaded himself in, then curled up into a ball in the blackness of his three room box and thought about everything that had happened to him in the last few weeks. The image of the Old Man’s body floating away replayed in his head, mixing with the angry storm that had swept him to this God forsaken wilderness without electricity. Eventually, amongst Buddha’s endlessly repeating final words of admonition, he finally slipped into a restless, nightmare filled sleep.

Chapter 4

It was well past noon when Food finally awoke. He knew exactly what he should do—which was exactly what the Old Man had suggested. He should see the world. If it was true that the government really considered him dead, and he was free to go anywhere or do anything, then why shouldn’t he? If it wasn’t true, then as soon as he came to a city or town, he would quickly be picked up or recognized as a government worker and his problems would be solved.

He gathered up a few items from his cubicle that he guessed he might need and quickly set out along the river. His brain told him to go downstream, closer to Old New Orleans and home. He went upstream.

At first, each step caused a little voice in his head to warn him that he was going the wrong direction. It begged him to go back to safety. But he didn’t want to.

The voice pleaded with him, but what was the worse that could happen if he didn’t go back? Would they tack on a mandatory amount of overtime service, or bump him down a few levels in his games? He could easily make those up.

He followed the river north. At first it wasn’t bad. It was even invigorating. The sun was shining, there were birds chirping, and whenever he got thirsty, he stopped and sipped from the river. But when his stomach began to rumble and he realized that he hadn’t brought any food with him, even the smallest of discomforts magnified into insurmountable problems. It grew hotter and more humid, to the point that he felt like he was in a sauna. The shrill, repetitious caws of angry birds began to try his patience, and invisible bugs began to bite at any exposed flesh they found.

Since he had spent most of his life indoors, he was unaware of what the outdoors could be like. He sliced one arm open on a bramble, cutting it deeply enough to hit an artery. He simply stared at the wound, watching the blood spray all over the ground. Thankfully the nanobots in his system quickly patched the wound from within. In a few minutes, he could not even see a scar. Still, he lost enough blood that he felt a bit woozy, and after a few more run-ins with nettles and a particular type of thorn covered tree, he quickly determined that the best path through the wilderness was to follow tiny thin paths, which he recognized from some of his hunting games to be animal runs, through the thick brush crowding the shore of the river.

Stopping at one point to ponder whether he should proceed with his adventure or return to his cubicle and wait comfortably for help, he sat in a patch of tall grass and listened to his stomach rumble louder and louder. He felt the first pangs of hunger he’d felt since before he signed up for the service. It brought back memories of his family life and that just made things worse.

His family wasn’t rich, but they weren’t poor by any means. They owned their own house outright, which couldn’t be said for most people.

His father owned a small sporting goods shop in the better part of town and sold everything from shoes to balls to tee shirts with custom made lettering. It wasn’t much, but as his father liked to say, As long as there are parents who want their kids out of the house for a few minutes a day, we’ll never be hungry. Of course he meant that he’d picked a profession that he believed was safe and secure and in which there was no local competition. The only other business like that in their tiny town of five thousand people was the local funeral parlor, and that was something Food’s father wasn’t interested in.

But over the years, videogames and the internet and eventually VRW took their toll. Kids were more interested in living in the Virtually Real World, where anyone and everyone could be a star than they were in living in the Real World. Their parents didn’t care because it meant they had the free time they desired to go off and be themselves. His father’s business suffered a slow, agonizing decline until it finally died one Christmas Eve.

Food shamefully recalled how horrible that Christmas morning was. His parents had spent hours wrapping a wide variety of sporting gear for him and his sister only to have their expensive gifts sneered at by the two children. Food heard the words in his head again and again, tinged with an angry fire that burned hotter each time they replayed.

Sports crap? he whined, I wanted a VRW system! Santa sucks! You suck and so does Christmas! Then he stomped up to his room and cried for an hour. He was only nine and believed in Santa, even though he suspected that his parents were really the ones behind everything. Being so young, he hadn’t been able to comprehend how much his words hurt his parents. He couldn’t have known that his tantrum was the final straw for his father, the straw that led to his drunken suicide on, of all days, Food’s birthday. Food had been next door, using the neighbor kids’ VRW when the single shotgun blast exploded through the neighborhood.

Sitting there in the grass, listening to the breeze rattle the individual blades against each other, he painfully recalled the funeral and the hard days that followed. His mother lost interest in life, his sister turned to the comfort of any older man who paid her the least bit of attention and he was left to fend for himself for the most part. He was always hungry because there was never any food in the house, just booze and pills and his sister’s boyfriends. They left him alone, too, for the most part. Everyone left him alone. They were all too afraid to talk to him because they didn’t want to upset him because he frequently exploded in rage. After a while, people stopped talking to him and he stopped talking to them. Thanks to a small governmental benefit, he was able to purchase a VRW console and spent more and more time in the digital world.

When he turned 18 his mother told him it was time to get out and he didn’t argue. He took a couple sets of clothes and his VRW and split. Since he had no friends and nowhere to go, having evaded both school and friends throughout his adolescence, he wandered around the business district until he passed a little shop that had a big television playing loud, vibrant advertisements that beckoned him to join the government. A secure home, all the luxuries you desire, and money, too the ads promised. It was good enough for him.

Slowly, he became aware that the pangs of hunger had subsided. He was thirsty, so he got up to walk over to the river, suddenly realizing that there was now a bare spot in the grass where he’d been sitting. While he was reminiscing, the nanobots had been busy absorbing nutrients from the grass through his skin. So even though his belly was technically still empty, the microscopic machines were sending an A-OK signal to his brain.

You got to love technology, he said loudly enough to make the birds stop chirping for a moment. He sipped from the river, never even considering for a moment that there might be deadly bacteria or other organisms floating in the water. He never concerned himself with those matters. He hadn’t been sick since before he signed up and he didn’t expect to be sick ever again. Not unless the bots stopped working.

After he’d had his fill, he decided to push on with his journey. There was nothing behind him anymore, nothing to return to.

That first night he lay on the open ground and stared up at the sky. He missed his videogames but he was well past withdrawal.

The various night noises distracted him from his thoughts, but they also made him ever more alert and that made it harder to sleep. Crickets chirping, whippoorwills calling, branches cracking, and even owls hooting reminded him that he was not in his safe and secure cubicle of a home. It was colder outside than it ever got in his home and he shivered the whole night through.

The next morning he hiked as long and hard as he could, determined to push ahead. He had a new lease on life. He wasn't worried about food or water anymore as he could always absorb nutrients from the environment and he knew that there was nothing for him back there. His whole life was ahead of him, all sixty or so more years of it.

Late that afternoon, he came across a bridge of sorts that spanned the river. It was actually a large plastic tube approximately eight feet in diameter that emerged from the lush vegetation on one bank, crossed the river on an A frame bridge of plastic I beams, and dashed off into the thick growth on the other side. The entire structure was probably thirty feet above the water level.

Food had never seen anything like it, nor had he ever heard of anything like it—a plastic bridge that supported a large plastic pipe? Was