We drank through the night, a sort of brackish homemade cocktail that they all called Jabaliya, and it helped solidify our friendship, before putting me into a healthy sleep until the swirling, multi-colored brightness of Storage morning. The sun rose over the gas giant’s horizon, catching its clouds and the structure’s towers alike, causing a glittering, rosy sunrise.

I yawned, slipping myself from out between this gobb and that. They’d evidently decided I was warm enough to make a good bed because several of them had been resting with their heads on my stomach and chest.

Getting free of the tangle, I scratched the back of my head and yawned, looking around at the tangle of sleep-drunk little green men.

It was strange to think over the gobbs of here versus the ones that turned on me so long ago. These ones were friendly, smart, and decent. The ones who’d build up Silken Sands had been gutter-creatures with no sense of pride or purpose. Just a need for d’jhz.

Something icy grasped my heart as I looked over them. The slavery had been there all along. These gobbs, this is what they started as. They’d get hunted and kidnapped, addicted to drugs, then put to work for those drugs.

And I’d been complicit.

The thought stung. I looked back over my shoulder, staring at the slowly rising pile of gobbs who would soon be aiding me on our short journey.

Fucking BuyMort.

It didn’t just take over everything, it hid the reality of everything as well. A part of me wanted to go over there, to shake them awake and apologize. Tell them that I shouldn’t have used them like that; should have tried to help them. I realized it wouldn’t have mattered, though. It wasn’t them that I did it to.

Best thing I could do was go get that phone, have some intel, and start working on fixing things around here. I saw a couple of heads pop out, crooked smiles on their faces, all of them slowly starting to jabber about breakfast and I walked over their way. I had some ideas in that department if they had the right stuff laying around for me to prepare.

Nozzle stood up, bleary-eyed, and cocked his head at his companions. “Tribe-friend is here. Breakfast is his choice today.”

“Yeah?” I asked, giving a half-grin and wondering if he wasn’t somehow reading my mind. I cast around the place, trying to get a look at what they had to work with.

Nozzle just shook his head, sputtering. “Humans, worst of the tall-people. Gobbs do not leave food out on the ground like animals! Come! I’ll show you our raid finds; we got a decent amount the day before you came back.”

I followed him and a gaggle of his tribe across the ruined bamboo city of the tunnel, my feet occasionally finding a crack or pothole in the more and more naturalized artificial structure. Nozzle lead us towards what looked to be an old security facility, a long garage door built into the curve of the tunnel wall. He booted it once as he got close, and the door shuddered and groaned before slowly rising to reveal its contents.

Nozzle stood nearby, panting, a proud grin on his face as held out his arms in a way reminiscent of those girls on the Nu-Earth TV shows, clapping with their arms out and palms facing the ceiling.

It took a bit, but when I finally could see what was inside the gobbs’ new pantry, I understood. The front shelves and racks held a variety of roots, dried yarsp meat, a few wrinkled vegetables, and something that looked like oversized, vein-covered eggs.

But, more importantly, they had something I’d never thought I’d ever see again in my life. A shiny and fully preserved slip of Nu-Earth bacon. Its packaging bragged about ‘temporally assured freshness.’

“What?” I asked, my mouth hanging open. “How?”

As I asked the words, I could feel the strange dizziness of one of the cheaper ads soaring into my mind. No, not just cheaper. There was a strange raspiness to it, almost as if the edges of the ad were giving my mind paper cuts.

Meat, for war. Bacon, Sliced, an exotic find from foreign Nu-Earth lands.

I raised an eyebrow at this, as well as at the glitchy way it tumbled through my mind. It was a text advertisement, but in the background I could see my world as it had been in the first days of BuyMort. The film started and stopped like a corrupted YouTube video, crackling in places and simply just black screen in others. But where it showed, I saw orcs fighting with the Canadian military, as judged by the golden maple leafs I saw on the cap of the screaming older officer who appeared in the top-right corner.

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They were battling over some sort of facility, and my mind flew back to those first few days of total apocalypse. It was the battle of the Maple Syrup Reserve! Apparently the orcs who’d fought the Canadian General and his new affiliate over it had made a bunch of ads using the footage. Ads that, for whatever reason, were no longer in great shape.

We die to give you a delicious breakfast. Bacon, syrup, pancakes, poutine, ‘Tim Hortons’.

Go to our affiliate page for details — SAVVY ORC WAAAAGH! BREAKFAST GOODS.

They put the crunch in the total defeat of your enemies.

The whole ad was absurd, but behind it now steamed a plate of crispy bacon. The affiliate hadn’t paid for smell, but I found myself huffing the air anyways to get a wisp of the deliciousness sitting just an arm’s length before me.

Error error - file not found. This item is out of stock. Please contact affiliate for details.

My jaw dropped as the advertisement faded.

Nozzle beamed.

“Tribe-friend sounds happy,” Nozzle shouted to the gobbs around him. “This is rare Nu-Earth food, yeah? We were going to sell it for tribe, like finding a gem, but . . . my gift to you, Tyson,” Nozzle said, giving a little bow.

I couldn’t believe it. Yarsp was great but there was something about pork bacon that was simply divine. And so damn missing in the multiverse since BuyMort came around. All of the pigs had been hunted to extinction, very few of them could use the system to their advantage. Something about the way their minds worked. They were plenty smart but couldn’t wrap their heads around the concept of personal ownership.

I took the package and stuffed it into a pocket. “That is going to get cooked, later, when I don’t have to share it with anybody,” I said.

Nozzle laughed and clapped, delighted, as did his fellow tribe members.

“Now, let’s dig into the rest of this and make a breakfast no one will ever forget,” I said, rubbing my hands together.

Nozzle clapped his hands. “Yes! What should we make?”

I picked up a large, purple root and sniffed it. “This smells kinda like a parsnip. We can roast it. Can you get a cook-fire going?”

Nozzle nodded vigorously. “Fire, we are good at.” He scampered off, shouting orders at a few nearby gobbs who quickly set to work building a cooking fire.

I turned to the rest of the ingredients. “Alright, we’ve got roots, dried meat, veggies… and these big eggs. Let’s see what we can do.” I cracked one of the eggs into a bowl, and the yolk was a vivid shade of green. “Well, that’s different. Guess we’ll make a scramble.”

A gobb named Flick approached, holding a jar of something slimy and wiggly. “This good for food, yes?”

I peered into the jar. “Uh, what is it?”

“Wiggle-worms. Very tasty,” Flick said, popping one into his mouth and chewing with a satisfied grin.

I chuckled. “Alright, wiggle-worms it is. Let’s fry them up.” I took the jar and started heating a pan over the cook-fire, adding the wiggle-worms with a sizzle.

Nozzle returned with a handful of herbs. “These make food taste better. Trust me, tasty stuff.”

I took a whiff. The herbs smelled fresh and potent. “Great, these will go into the scramble.” I chopped the herbs finely and mixed them into the bowl of green eggs, adding some chopped roots and the dried meat for good measure.

A small gobb named Snipe tugged at my sleeve, holding out a lumpy, misshapen fruit. “Found this in tunnel. Is sweet.”

I took the fruit and sliced it open, revealing bright pink flesh inside. I tasted a piece. “Wow, this is good! It’s like a mix between a mango and a peach.” I sliced the rest and set it aside.

“Okay, we’ve got roasted roots, a wiggle-worm fry, and a green egg scramble with herbs and meat,” I said, surveying our work. “What else?”

Nozzle’s eyes lit up. “We make special gobb bread! Is tradition.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Gobb bread? How do we make it?”

Nozzle gestured to a flat stone slab. “We crush roots, mix with water, and cook on hot stone. You help?”

“Absolutely,” I said. I mashed the roots into a paste, mixing in water until it formed a doughy consistency. Nozzle spread the dough onto the hot stone, patting it flat with practiced hands.

As the bread cooked, I scrambled the green eggs, stirring them gently to keep them fluffy. The wiggle-worms had turned crispy and golden brown, and the roasted roots were just starting to caramelize around the edges.

The aroma wafted through the tunnel, drawing more gobbs to the makeshift kitchen. They watched with wide eyes and eager expressions, whispering excitedly among themselves.

“Tyson, try this,” called another gobb named Grint, holding out a peculiar-looking leaf. “Good for wrapping food. Make taste better.”

I took the leaf, sniffed it, and gave it a taste. It had a slightly bitter, peppery flavor. “Perfect. We’ll use it to wrap the scramble.” I quickly assembled the wraps, adding a dollop of the sweet fruit for a burst of flavor.

As I finished, another gobb named Pock approached with a container of something white and crumbly. “Found mushbug cheese!”

“Cheese? Now we’re talking!” I said, grinning. I crumbled the cheese over the wraps and the roasted roots, adding a rich, savory note to the meal.

Breakfast was coming together beautifully. I looked around at the eager faces of the gobbs, all of them buzzing with anticipation. “Alright, everyone. Breakfast is served!” I announced, plating up the various dishes. The gobbs cheered, rushing forward to grab their portions.

I handed a plate to Nozzle. “Here’s to a great meal and even better friends.”

Nozzle grinned, his sharp teeth flashing. “To tribe-friends and food magic!” We clinked our plates together and dug in, laughter and chatter filling the tunnel as we shared our feast. “Soon, we find Tyson’s phone, and get more foods!”