Normally, sandwiches such as these would taste like a peasants’ meal. That was not meant to be sarcastic, I mean it. Making a good sandwich was hard work and most people tend to screw up. In the first place, grocery store-bought bread gets stale quickly and is pretty garbage in terms of texture. As a chef, you’d be set up for failure unless you knew how to bake your own bread. The thing about grocery stores, in general, is that everything is of a lower quality compared to handcrafted food. These days, all they needed were machines to mass-produce things for popular consumption.

The bread is the first thing that the tongue contacts upon consumption of the sandwich. That makes the bread one of the most important elements of a sandwich. The slightest staleness and squishiness in that bottom slice of cooked dough would be exasperated with every bite. This makes it important to not screw up the bread or the blandness will resonate throughout the entire sandwich. Not only would you be wasting the fillings squished between those two flat buns, but you’d also be wasting your entire culinary career if you can't get the bread right.

Then there's the sauce. Without a good sauce, the sandwich would make your throat dry up as you try to eat the crust of the bread without cutting your mouth. Those little bastards turn into fish bones if the bread isn't moistened by the sauce. Good bread needs to be browned and crunchy on one side or both if you are that type of person. I'd consider it to be toast if bost sides were browned, but it doesn't really matter. Butter helps in getting that nice brownness. I've seen some sick bastards use mayonnaise and it's disgusting. Unless it was Japanese mayonnaise—which is fucking great on everything—I don't see the point in toasting bread with mayonnaise. It is also for that reason that I can't understand those people who toast bread with mayonnaise for their grilled cheese.

For the crunchiness, you can test it by sliding a knife across the bread. If you can hear the crispy sounds of bread as you slide the edge of a blade across the bread, then it is good for sandwich making. By toasting the bread, you also yield greater sauce-retention in the sandwich. When you lather the sauce onto the bread, it won’t sink through and make the bread soggy. And no sane person likes soggy bread. Those types of morons are the same people who like eating soggy cereal... I guess I'm insane for liking to eat soggy cereal, huh? Well, I stopped eating those sugar bowls ever since elementary school so I guess it doesn't matter.

The meat is another essential ingredient in the sandwich. Most sandwiches use thinly cut slices of ham or some other mystery meat. I’m the type of guy who prefers thick meat over thin. You can’t taste the texture of the meat if it were thin—rather, you’d only be able to taste the vegetables and no one likes tasting that. The guy who invented sandwiches only added vegetables so that he could advertise it as a healthy food. It’s the same sort of sales tactic that some companies do. They add the label ‘50% less fat’ or ‘fat-free’ when that hardly makes a difference. Heck, even doctors do it to coerce kids into coming for check-ups. Visiting the doctor’s office is supposedly a healthy thing. And to get kids to enter that den, doctors bait children in with the promise of lollipops. While there are certain exceptions, most of the time, I prefer thicker meat: like this grilled chicken breast.

As for the lettuce, you can discard it completely if you really wanted to. While too much makes the sandwich taste like shit, too little makes it appear as if it were never there. Lettuce gives the sandwich an extra crunch factor which brightens the experience. Nevertheless, it is fine to just chuck those vegetables out into the backyard to fertilize nature.

Tomatoes are another story entirely—no, they are not fucking vegetables! They are fruits god damn it. Tomatoes are fruits. Compared to the lettuce, the tomato is a much more essential ingredient. While it too can be discarded, I would not recommend that for the perfect experience.

Tomatoes are like lemons in a way. They add some acidity to the sandwich in a very subtle manner that you would not really taste it until after you have finished the sandwich. It provides a sort of freshness to the sandwich. The slight acidity also complements well with most meats—particularly chicken. Not only does it enhance the taste of the sandwich, but the tomato also makes the sandwich thicker, which makes sure that every bite will fill your entire mouth, leaving no space empty. When in the mouth, the juices of the tomato will act as a cohesive element that glues all the flavor present in the sandwich together—thus providing a pleasant and relishable sensation soar throughout the body.

Cheese is another delicate topic. Using American—excuse me—plastic cheese is the greatest possible sin a chef could commit in his lifetime. Everyone knows that cheese blocks or wheels are the only cheeses that provide a good taste. And like bread, store-bought cheese is just plain garbage. Don’t even get me started on store-bought meat. It’s either the butcher shop or you grow your own cattle.

That is pretty much it. Did I miss anything? Well, I should probably shut my mind off now—

After all, I have never built a sandwich in my life. But that doesn't mean I don't know what constitutes a good sandwich. I just don’t do sandwiches for the main reason that it is hard to make a good sandwich. I don’t have time to bake the bread and good cheese costs a lot. You would think that blocks of yellow bacteria would be cheap, but they are the opposite. In a sense, it is sort of like truffles or lobsters. Those two things used to be food for the poor and were cheaper than dirt. Nowadays, cheese has established its place in the culinary world. It’s funny to imagine peasants back in those medieval days of knights in shining armor eating handfuls of cheese, truffle, and lobsters. That pretty much sums up my thoughts on sandwiches. Hard to make well, but when they are, they can induce orgasms in any proud man. They’d probably tap out in less than a second of the first bite. Of course, I generally don’t eat sandwiches since I just don’t. All that matters to me is that the grilled chicken breasts aren’t fucked up. If anyone screws up and serves me dry ass chicken or medium-rare chicken, I’m straight up sending that person to Satan.

I looked at the sandwich on my plate once more before sneaking a glance at Trevor who had yet to touch his plate.

I had questions, but it was for the most part, about the chicken. If I asked them, I would sound like a crazy chicken fanatic so I won't... But it still makes me curious: what type of chicken is the meat from? Why the chicken breast instead of thighs or other dark meat? —wait, that’s self-explanatory. Chicken breasts have less fat with more protein than dark meat. White meat is called white meat for a reason. While dark meat would taste better since there’s more fat and it’s usually juicier, I’m living with a bodybuilder here (or as I used to assume), and he probably values his health more than taste. God damn, Trevor did his research. Were all bodybuilders always this knowledgeable about nutrition?—I’m just overthinking things, aren’t I?

There’s also the lingering question of ‘what the fuck’ did he just do? Did he really create two plates of sandwiches out of thin air? Of course, I could hardly care, since I know he’s probably going to explain it to me. It's basically a 'Show and Tell.' Someone who shows something will almost always explain it later. If not, then it would be a peculiar scenario. Besides, we live under a single roof and aggressive inquisition wouldn’t mean shit when he could probably put me down in a matter of seconds. This guy could probably lift a tow truck with ease. If he wants to tell me something, he will say it—at least that's the type of person I assessed him to be. Either way, I had a rough idea of how his power worked. It was either some sort of teleportation ability or a portable dimension used for storage. If he had a teleportation ability, that would explain why he’s living out here in a mountain like a hermit. If he wished, he could just teleport to the nearest city. But really, what are the chances of having such a convenient ability straight out of a movie?

“You know, I used to be like you.”

My eyebrows twitched slightly upon hearing that cliché line.

“You should learn how to make friends or at least acquaintances,” Trevor said. He had yet to touch his plate and was instead lecturing me. It was out of character.

“They’ll do you much more good than you would think,” he said, taking a sip of his protein shake. “Take it from experience.”

I looked down at the sandwich. Should I be responding? I could either say my true thoughts or pretend like I understand and will take that advice to heart… What’s my answer? If I say something strange, that will ruin our current relationship—while a shallow relationship, I would prefer it to stay like such. I only exist because I am an accident after all. There’s no need to stress about friendships and that kind of stuff when it doesn’t matter. We’re all accidents, why must we seek communication with others? Why take the pleasure in communicating when you know the dark truth: so many others could be alive, yet my dumbass just happened to become a zygote in the place of millions of others. Can one live knowing that? Is it to relieve our pain in knowing that we are accidents? Perhaps that’s why schadenfreude and the likes of them exist. While words and actions might not be the same, words can be considered the precursor of action. Every single word and the intent as well as the perceived intent will influence the actions of everything, no matter how small or big. A single word can change a lot of things. And at the same time, no words at all can change some things too—a small tradeoff. Whatever Trevor's intentions were, I was clueless. It was unbecoming of me, but I was genuinely clueless. The only thing I could do was fathom the many reasons as to why he's all the sudden saying such stupid things...

Maybe I’m just overthinking this.

“I’m telling you right now, kid,” he said, giving a small cough as he continued, “life will become hard if you don’t communicate with others. I’m not good at saying these things either, but as an adult, I think I have the responsibility to say it to you straight, kid. Think of it what you will.”

I kept my eyes down on the plate.

“You’re probably wondering about the power I just showed you, right?”

“...” There’s no need to state the obvious.

“It was Morris.”

Morris? Who’s that?

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“If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have known I had such a power—I wouldn’t even be alive today if it weren’t for him,” he said.

Ah, he’s talking about that old guy, isn’t he? Morris—what a forgettable name.

“As you’ve probably suspected, I wouldn’t have owned such a nice home if it weren’t for his help. I’d probably be out on the streets.”

“...” What a tragic backstory. I couldn't care.

I should probably let him continue reminiscing about the past as I continued to not respond. I guess old people are like that, aren’t they?

Trevor looked about to be in his 40s or 50s, and yet, he’s talking as if he were an old man that has seen everything. It was an awkward one-sided ‘conversation.’

“Morris already told me about the fate of this world and my fate as well… It’s also because of this debt I have to him that I decided to let you live here,” he said, taking a gulp of air. “I’m not telling you to be thankful or anything, but from what Morris has told me, the life and death of humanity might as well lay on your hands.”

More bullshit it seems. If humanity depended on me, then I’d with no doubt eradicate it—that includes myself. But it’s literally impossible for humanity to depend on me since there’s only one of me and so many millions of other people. No matter how significant a figure, that is nothing but a single figure. It only takes a couple hundred people to trample an individual no matter how outstanding. If the day does come when I stand at the pinnacle of this world… Perhaps humanity isn’t worth saving. If I do reach the top of the world, then that will be out of my own willpower and effort. Why should I lend a hand to all the fools around the globe if they don’t even put in half as much effort as me? It’s quite unfair—no, that may be the wrong word to use—it’s absolutely ridiculous to expect anything without a will to power¹. What doesn't kill you, can only make you stronger—I just happened to not die, that's all.

“Whether or not you will or won’t help humanity will completely depend on your will. I can understand if you choose not to spare humanity when the time comes—I’ve seen some of the atrocities myself.”

“...”

“Morris is quite concerned about your intent which is why he will kill you immediately if he determines that you aren’t on the side of humanity. While you can be one of humanity’s trump cards against the ‘Invader,’ he also said that you pose the greatest threat.”

“...” The greatest threat, huh. What is that supposed to suggest? I smell some sort of backstabbing betrayal according to Trevor.

“I may not know you and I don’t intend to want to know you, but I feel you should at least understand your current situation. There will come a day when this world will be overrun by chaos,” he said.

“...” Is it not chaotic already?

“When chaos arrives, you should stay low for a while.”

“...” He’s obviously not telling me the entire story despite saying I should understand my current situation. I guess I should put on a thankful front since he did tell me a lot of interesting information. But it can’t be denied that he may be lying.

“I don’t have a family, I’m sure you can see that,” said Trevor. He did not look down in sadness but seemed a bit apathetic.

“While Morris has helped me out a lot in my life, as a man, I can’t bring myself to infringe on my own moral code,” he said.

“Look, kid, was it Coeus? Anyway, Morris is a person you don’t want to mess with. The moment he finds out you are not an ally, he will cut you down. I really shouldn't be telling you this since I'm his friend, but take it as a warning.” He said, with his mouth shut tight as if he were clenching his teeth.

“I lived my life for this long because I depended on Morris—that was a mistake.” He looked me in the eye, and for some reason, I couldn’t keep myself from looking back.

“If he offers you any type of contract, don’t agree with them. He will chain you like he almost did to me... He's become a lot different ever since his wife was murdered. While we may still technically be friends, it appears that Morris no longer knows what a friend is.” He said with his eyes closed. If you included his built body, this conversation felt like that which a squadron leader would tell his soldiers as he is about to complete a suicidal solo mission with little chance of survival.

I spoke for the first time, “Why tell me now?” It has already been a whole day since I’ve met Trevor and he’s telling me all this now. Why not yesterday when we first met? Why the day after?

I think he was trying to smile, but after a couple seconds, his mouth returned to its natural shape. It was kind of like m—an expression that was tired of the world. Others would mistake it for apathy, but it was very much the opposite. No matter how stoic, people are humans—perhaps all too human².

“You don’t need to know… Anyway, what do you say to a spar later? You need to learn how to fight, after all. Believe it or not, I used to be in the army.”

Sparring? As in fight sparing? Sounds... Interesting?

“I take the silence as a yes. Anyway, let’s eat,” he said, as he grabbed a cut of the sandwich.

The sandwich was split into two by a diagonal cut. While not a perfect triangle, I would still much rather prefer this sort of sandwich over one that was cut straight down to form rectangles. I thought… no, I didn’t. Did I? Probably not. I kind of just stared at the sandwich for a couple seconds before grabbing a cut. It was one of those rare and few thoughtless moments in my disappointing life. Freedom? No, it wasn’t freeing in the least. The knowledge that I will think once more stops me from relinquishing in that mood. In a vague sense, it is a freeing experience—however free a chained dog can be. I can’t go past the cage. But I at least can move in it… Perhaps it isn’t nothingness. After all, nothing is something. The action of not having thoughts is in and of itself, the act of not thinking: which is a thought perceived to have null elements. Maybe this illusion is what is caging me. Maybe accepting the illusion is freedom…

Thoughts are created by the mind.

And creations are in a sense, a sort of freedom.

Yet, such freedom can only be known as naivety.

My creations are my own delusions.

The more that sprout, the more clouded I become.

The clouds know no illusion.

And here I am.

In this fake world.

Still, I have succumbed.

My demise was my own cause.

It turns out, that moment of non-thought, became a moment of the largest thought. Or perhaps I’m wrong and I saw it all in reverse. Do I remorse? Why didn’t I remorse? I should have known. But I didn’t. Why didn’t I?

I’m an Idiot

The sandwich is bland.

With flavors, I can’t describe—

yet, much more than I...

It was good.

while it lasted

***

Taking my first bite, it didn’t take a second for me to realize that this sandwich was dry as the scorching desert. It was cold and probably had been kept in the refrigerator so it retained some moisture—but where’s the fucking sauce? At least the juices of the tomato aided it a bit in terms of moisture, but other than that, the sandwich made me want to chug a gallon of water to accompany every bite. As for texture, it was passable, but not preferable. As per my expectations, the chicken tasted alright and wasn’t overcooked or too dry—it wasn’t juicy either. Part of the blandness was probably coming from the distinct chicken taste. It made sense when there was no sauce. Simple grilled chicken had little taste. By having a sauce, it would mask the taste of the chicken which was essentially what the acidity of the tomato was doing. Even an inferior condiment such as ketchup would have been fine, but doing without any moisture would just be a hazard for the tongue. I’m sorry to say this, but you’re shit at making sandwiches. Trevor, you may make decent pasta—but get the fuck out of sandwich-making.

After taking another bite, I realized the issue at hand. It wasn’t the lack of sauce, but the uneven distribution of the sauce. There was actual sauce buried deep within the sandwich. It wasn’t hard to identify how it happened. When making the sandwich, Trevor probably just took a spoonful of the sauce and slapped it onto the bread without spreading it across the bread evenly. A lot of people do that for burgers, but this is a sandwich... I'm quick to scrutinize things like usual.

With the sauce included, it tasted much better. I didn't recognize what sauce it was, but it tasted fine so it didn't matter. That was it, just an average sandwich with a lot of meat. Usually, people use ham or some other form of pork to make sandwiches and not chicken because chicken breasts were bland on bread precisely because of that chickeny-taste. Either way, it was edible. I shouldn’t be complaining so much.

I took a sip of the protein shake that was just protein powder and tap water with every couple of bites. It’s kind of amazing to imagine that there were water pipes underground that pumped water all the way up this mountain. The power of technology and slaves blue-collar workers sure is amazing.

By the time I finished, Trevor had already been onto his second sandwich. I thought there would only be one for him and for me, but it seems I was wrong. When he finished his first, he simply snapped his finger and after a flash of light, another sandwich of the same type appeared.

Eating a single sandwich was enough for me though. I’m not that used to eating heavily in the morning. Even during breakfast, while Trevor ate some oatmeal, I ate a good old banana. I was planning on not eating anything as per my usual morning routine. But Trevor demanded that I had to eat something to maintain a schedule. He wasn’t unreasonable either, so I gave in and ate a banana. I could tell that exercise was going to be a big part of my life living here, and it wasn’t a good idea to fast when I was burning so many calories from working out. Compared to school where I would be forced to sit in a chair doing absolutely useless things for hours straight, this new lifestyle required more nutrients to sustain my body.

As I got to washing my own plate, I started thinking about ‘that’ again. There was also that ‘that’ too, wasn’t there? Well, that ‘that’ had time since it’s not like anything interesting is happening. Where’s the point in journaling when there was nothing fun to journal about? I guess I could write about what Trevor suddenly revealed to me, but who knows. It’ll depend on my mood when the night comes. I don’t really understand what happened with Trevor, but it shouldn’t be anything major. He was probably just saying things like the old man he was... It feels strange to say that, but I guess Trevor is pretty old. If it weren’t for his overly ‘youthful’ body, I’d have thought he was an old guy based off of the tone of his voice. He was definitely somewhere around his 40s or 50s. I guess it makes sense now, doesn’t it? He was basically monologuing one of those ‘Back in my day’ moments, right? I’m pretty sure he said something about Morris, didn’t he? While it may be a lie, it may also be truthful. Maybe what he said about Morris will shed some light on the way he acted around me. I do find it strange that his interaction with me yesterday compared to when we were talking in the office conference room was a lot different. He seemed to be scared of me during our first encounter, and yet, he was completely prepared yesterday when he brought me to Trevor. It’s almost as if they were two separate personas. Did he have bipolar disorder or something? It makes sense why Morris was scared if he considered me to be a threat. He also mentioned something about contracts, didn’t he? I suppose I did sign one with him, but a piece of paper is just a piece of paper. If push comes to shove, I can kill him, can’t I?

As for ‘that’ other thing… How does one naturally knock themself out? Do I have to do it in the showers again?