Opening his eyes was difficult. Milo was tired and wanted to sleep more. But the constant beep beep beep was annoying him. His muscles were stiff as he stepped out of his pod.

It was odd, he didn't even remember logging out of the game. The last few days' events ran through his head, culminating with the thought that 'This rock is a pretty good pillow.' His tail flipped over to the pod and reattached to it so he could read through the latest messages from the system.

[You have a new notification on the Contribution Board.

You have a new notification on the Contribution Board.

You have a new notification on the Contribution Board.

You are exhausted and suffering from the after-effects of using cheese in combat.]

[Your character has passed out from exhaustion. You may not be able to access your character for some time.

Would you like to log out?

Would you like to play a nice game of chess?

Would you like to take a nap in your comfy pod?

Right, nap it is.]

Milo had been spending a lot of time in the game. When he did leave the game, his time in section E had been all work and little rest. His assumption that his body would get rest in his pod was correct; his medical read-out showed everything was fine. Mentally though, he had been building up fatigue for months and not taking enough time off. Some part of him had decided it was time for sleep after his character passed out in the game. He'd have to take this new variable into account from now on. Mental fatigue could lead to sub-optimal decision-making. Especially in the game.

His first priority now that he would be up for a few hours was food. The selection could have been better. He had cheese, dried fruit, and some crackers. His tastes had changed over the last few months. The thought of food cubes was highly dissatisfying. What he wanted was Cheesy Pancakes with lots of syrup. Did they have those in the real world? If not, he was going to invent them. A quick search of the Datanet showed several restaurants that served them. This wasn't helpful since he wasn't going to visit them, ever, but he did confirm they existed. Could he make them himself?

Further searching for a minute gave him what he wanted. He found a recipe that seemed familiar to what he had used in the Hollow.

There were food services that would ship to the Habitat Block, but they were costly and they didn't do small deliveries. He ran through various options, calculating which service to use and how much to order the ingredients. Substitutions had to be made for fresh eggs and sour cream. Flour came in hundred-pound bags. One solution appealed to him. After some thought, he went with that and placed the order. A handful of crackers and some cheese spread would get him through the next couple of hours. He went to his workshop and started designing the equipment he would need.

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"Butch! Make sure your little sister doesn't get to the buttons on the food system. She kept pushing the button on it this morning, and we got 16 bowls of groatmeal delivered. She likes the picture for that button."

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Butch was trying desperately to get past the 10th level of Space Invaders and see if there was an 11th level. He was trying not to get hit by a saucer and nail the last alien running across his screen when his littlest sister headed towards the food system, pushing a chair in front of her. The hesitation was deadly, and he died without getting to the 11th level. Sighing, he picked her up and tickled her until she started screaming. "That will teach you to side with the aliens." He set her back down and shut down the food system so she couldn't order more food. His mother could have done it, but she was worried that if the machine ever shut down, it wouldn't turn back on. This had happened to too many people. Maintainance workers were like fairy godmothers. Both were rumored to exist, but no one ever saw them.

Someone started pounding on the front door. Understandable since the intercom button didn't work from the other side. Looking at the screen, he saw two men in green uniforms bearing the logo of Mercurial Delivery at the door. Obviously lost if they were banging on his door. He unlocked the door and slid it open a few inches, keeping the chains in place. "Yeah?"

One of them looked at a clipboard. "Got a delivery for you: One hundred pounds of Ronco Always-rises Flour, one gross of Eggs in a Can, 64 quarts of FrozyFroze Sour Cream. Be careful with that stuff and get it into the cooler fast. One hundred pounds of grated parmesan from Acme Cheese Factory, that's the big green can with the airtight seal. Fifty pounds of PowderedToastMan's powdered milk and another twenty gallons of Moo-Moo Farm's Milk in a Can. That's the big stuff. The other three packing containers have the rest, including the syrup. We double-checked it twice, and you're good to go."

Butch stared at the mound of food. "Yeah, sure. Let me take a look." He grabbed the paperwork and acted like he was checking things over. He wondered if he should take the delivery. He could sell most of it and keep a little. But someone would follow the paper trail, and his family would suffer. You never left a trail to your own home if you did something you could get in trouble for. He handed the paperwork back. "Sorry, wrong place. I can't pay for it. Didn't order it."

The two delivery men looked at each other and shrugged. "Not our problem. It's paid for in full, including delivery and a very generous tip for the two of us. This place matches the address. It can't go back, and we need to be going." They left quickly, nearly bumping into someone moving down the corridor, driving a four-wheeled delivery cart with a trailer. Ghost hopped off the little cart and took the paperwork out of his hands while Butch tried to figure out what was happening.

"Great. It's all here. Help me set up this grill in the courtyard and we can get cooking. I made it from a couple of old welding units and a titanium-Teflon sheet I scavenged. Should work well for pancakes."

Butch's mother appeared at the door. She eyed the makeshift stove and the food. "Pancakes? I haven't had pancakes in years. We used to be able to get the food system to give us pancake batter, but they claimed we'd like food cubes better and not have to cook. You realize that if you cook out here, you'll get several dozen hungry people popping out of their rooms looking for dinner?"

Milo exhaled and pushed down his anxiety about being around many people. There would be less here today than in the Hollow. He put a grin on his face. "I've got an urge to cook, and I need volunteers to eat. We'll feed everyone we can and then store the rest in my room for next time."

Butch had his datapad out and was sending a message. "I've got the gang on the way to help out and help eat. But how the hell did you get all of this?"

"Got lucky. Found a buyer for some of the old games we repaired and made a big sale, but he insisted I had to take half cash and half food from his warehouse. So we're having a pancake party."

Butch looked skeptical. "Pancakes. They're good?"

His mother rolled her eyes. "Oh, honey, you have no idea. Start unpacking everything and I'll help with the batter. You kids are in for a treat today."