The computer that replaced human interaction at the grocery store casts digital shadows of green and blue across my face.
The whirring of mechanical robots scurrying the aisles fills my ears, reminding me of what’s been lost. A time when we talked to each other, not just to machines.
What should I cook tonight?
It’s a special day, the anniversary of my mother’s birth. Gone for 10 years now, Mom always loved Spaghetti Bolognese.
I speak it into the voice prompt in the checkout lane. The recipe appears, reconstructed from years of Mom’s kitchen recordings sold to a big tech company by my estranged brother.
Behind chain link fences, robotic arms navigate the aisles we once walked holding hands when I was a little boy.
In a few minutes, my groceries arrive through a slot in the fence.
I haven’t talked to another living human in years. But tonight—through a ghost bot—Mom will remind me to drain the pasta before it gets too soft.
Just like she always did.
INSTANT NOODLES 