Human menu

In the restaurant at the Elliott Manor, as on any other day of a non-existent time, it was European, Asian, American, Australian, African, even Antarctic - that is, it was, as usual, filled with human and not-so-human visitors, for whom the definition of “crowded” was inapplicable due to the catastrophically small number of zombie drones - a type whose purpose is ordinary cleaning. The tables were all occupied, to capacity. So not only was there nowhere for the apple to fall, but the currant berry would have barely squeezed through in the bustling and chewing crowd, if, of course, the currant had such intentions. Zombie Drones, as already mentioned, were very few here, and two of them stood on the threshold in doubt whether it was worth getting into this mess seething with conversations and appetizing smells. Their guardianand a grumpy man pushed them from behind, and the head waiter loomed ahead, inexorably filtering through the customers directly to them. - Maybe it’s not worth it? - N suggested timidly. - I already eat meat with a shudder after that dish of the day - I expect that it is about to speak to me and offer to take another part... - Don’t panic! - Tessa resolutely snapped and shoved him in the back. - Relax, have a drink... - ...And puke the waiter, - N continued gloomily. - Hey, overgrown tin can, you hang out with crows too often, - Lord Frumptlebucket patted him on the shoulder. - I have a name... - N began threateningly. J also doubted the need to have dinner here, but she was more tired of listening to discussions than looking for a suitable place for a meal that would please everyone present with the variety of menu and quantity of drinks, not to mention its quality, so she rolled her eyes and decisively moved towards to the sweet, smiling head waiter. Another half hour of bickering in various combinations of disputants - Tessa with N, Lord with N, Frumptlebucket with the head waiter, Tessa with one of her old acquaintances found at one of the tables, and so on - and the whole company sat down relatively decorously at the found places. places especially for them. Crystal sparkled, curtains made of expensive fabrics fluttered, silver cutlery sent out sunbeams reflected from the mournful reflections of dying stars, the compere on stage joked about the sooner or later ending vicissitudes of the Earth, Robots, Gods, and so on - in general, the usual for this place reigned. an atmosphere of fun against the backdrop of the growing end of the world. But they don't know yet. - What is this? - Tessa squealed, pointing at the menu. - Human snacks, - J answered calmly, glancing briefly at the page. - Human?! - N’s indignation confidently reached critical mass. - Human? Human snacks, - N’s voice acquired an unusual firmness and volume, as his owner intended to convey to all these hideously cruel Europeans, Asians, Americans, Australians and Africans what Real Humanity and High Morality of Truly Intelligent Creatures are, - are chips , sandwiches, canapés... - De flopé, - the Lord prompted unusually helpfully. - De flop, yes, thank you very much... What? - No, tin can, I’m reading the menu. I want to order this. N stared even more at the leaves filled with ornate handwriting and monograms. - Where is it? And here it is: “De flopé, made from tender and sweet human meat, has a refined taste, shaded by kacius seeds. Served with red wine." - Aaarrrgh! - N slid out of his chair with a groan. - For starters, I’d recommend human beer chips of Copper-9, - Jay advised. N turned green and looked at Tessa. She didn't look much better - she also found the right pages. N muttered in his mind, "I'm a robot man, I'm stoic, I don't worry, no, I worry, no, I'm just outraged and I have to speak out about it!" - and screamed, attracting the attention of people and drones from neighboring tables: - No! It is immoral! It's horrible! Humans are sentient beings and should not be eaten, you disgusting rich freaks! - But they ate monkeys, and they are your ancestors, - J said irrationally and logically. N thought: he personally, of course, did not eat such meat, but he could not vouch for, for example, some exotic Asians or Africans. - No, they didn’t eat it, - he ventured, cursing his indecision, which was visible a light year away. - No, we didn’t eat it, - the Lord unexpectedly supported him. - What? I know for sure - I didn’t just exist on this planet for several freaking years, I watched them. So, believe me, I know something about their customs even better than you. - For example? - Tessa flared up. - For example, these wild tribes who roasted white missionaries... or chewed them raw - whatever. - It was a long time ago, - Tessa tried to justify himself. - For example, these medieval rituals, - Frumptlebucket continued ruthlessly, - when people believed that by eating other people, they received their knowledge and powers. For example, these serial killers, of whom there were actually more than you saw in the news and could have guessed even for a minute, and they stored meat for future use, in hundreds of pounds, stored dismembered people in refrigerators... Tessa swallowed. — Your exotic cuisine... It’s not just baked grasshoppers or snake meat, no! Haven’t you heard of children’s soup? Tessa's face turned green and he bit his lip. - And, for dessert, for example, there are mathematically calculated models of the Earth, extrapolated from its past, which confirm the same thing - if our planet remains intact, then in a hundred or two hundred years, cola with the blood of human clones would become fashionable, canned babies and human burgers. And, you know, many of these recipes are your earthly invention. And not at all brought by robotic barbarians. It was a pity to look at Tessa. However, as on N, although she still held on a little more steadfastly. She looked at the menu and couldn’t believe what was offered, although she clearly saw that she would have to. - However, - the Lord relented, - no one is forcing you to eat this. Order a salad. And, if it’s any consolation, in the local kitchens they still grow meat specially designed for this purpose, stupid clones that never resemble the people who lived on Earth. This is only biomaterial. Although it tastes great. Tessa had a lot of thoughts running through her head: how many people were being prepared for consumption, whether there would be enough of them to repopulate the planet, whether they were so rare, how expensive - the prices on the menu were more than fantastic - and from what and how they are grown... - Calm down, - J patted him on the shoulder in a friendly manner. - You’re taking everything wrong. Besides there are a lot of people. And there are only four Zombie Drones - I, N, V, and... - Oh, here’s our Dish of the Day, - the Lord interrupted him. - You'll order human chips, right? And I am de flop. And maybe a rare steak... He waved his free second hand invitingly, N looked around and was horrified. - “Oh, not this!” - Tessa thinks. An exact cloned copy of Tessa walked towards their table, smiling benevolently and ingratiatingly. “This is the kind of food Earthlings have!” - said Sin.