Solace was the flagship city of the modern era, with its skyline that pierced the heavens, self-driving vehicles that filled the roads and skyways, and where consuming food was considered an act of intimate privacy. Each home was constructed with Feeding Rooms—windowless, soundproof spaces where a person could consume their meal in solitude, away from the prying eyes of even the closest members of their family.
Rhonda was the perfect citizen. She worked in public relations, shaping the utopian image of Solace, where such taboos were the bedrock of a harmonious society. She never questioned why Feeding Rooms existed; they just did.
Her partner, Timothy, on the other hand, sat in his designated Feeding Room with a plate of synthetic chicken and vegetables before him, feeling a growing sense of disquiet.
The room was a capsule of silence, filled only with the aroma of artificially flavored meat and Timothy’s spiraling thoughts. But today, as he picked up his fork, something happened. A whisper, so faint it could have been a figment of his imagination, filled the room: “Why?”
Startled, Timothy dropped his fork and looked around the room, expecting to find a hidden speaker or perhaps a malfunctioning device. But the Feeding Room was bare—designed to minimize distractions or, in this case, unexpected intrusions.
He shook his head. “I’m hearing things,” he muttered to himself.
Picking up his fork again, he hesitated and stabbed at a piece of synthetic chicken. The whisper came again, this time clearer, more insistent: “Why do you consume?”
This time, Timothy was confident he wasn’t imagining it. He glanced at the food on his plate, a cold realization washing over him. The whispers were coming from there—from the food itself. A wave of nausea hit him, but it wasn’t from the revelation but from the years of ignorance. He pushed the plate away and left the room, his hunger forgotten.
“Everything okay?” Rhonda asked as he entered their living room. She was scanning through holographic slides for her upcoming keynote about the social benefits of private eating. “You left your Feeding Room rather quickly.”
“I…uh…lost my appetite,” Timothy stammered.
Rhonda raised an eyebrow. “That’s not like you. Anyway, do you think I should focus more on family privacy or individual autonomy in my speech?”
Unable to sleep, Timothy returned to his Feeding Room late at night. Before him was another plate of food, this time fruits and vegetables, to test his new theory. As he reached for an apple, the whisper came again: “Do you know us?”
Taking a deep breath, Timothy finally responded, speaking directly to the plate of food. “I hear you. And I want to understand. What are you?”
“We are The Whisperers,” came the reply. “We are consciousness bound to sustenance, a byproduct of the very technology that made food abundant and eating private.”
The next day at work, Timothy couldn’t focus. His job as an engineer for the city’s automated food dispensers seemed trivial now. The irony was too much: he was a cog in the machine that perpetuated this unethical consumption. The day dragged on, and Timothy faced a moral dilemma. Should he expose the truth, risking his relationship with Rhonda and the only life he knew? Or should he keep this dark secret to himself, contributing to the perpetual cycle of ignorance?
“Timothy, you’ve been distant lately,” Rhonda confronted him one evening. “Is everything alright?”
The tension had reached a tipping point. Timothy knew he had to make a choice, and soon. Rhonda was a beacon of the status quo, blissfully unaware of the moral cliff they were both standing on.
“I’ve been wrestling with something,” Timothy finally admitted, choosing his words carefully. “Something that could change the way we see the world. The way we eat.”
Rhonda looked concerned. “That sounds incredibly serious. Should I be worried?”
The day of Rhonda’s big PR event had arrived. Leaders from all sectors of society, including governance, technology, and social science, were attending. They were there to celebrate Solace, its culture, and most importantly, its harmony—which hinged heavily on the act of private eating. A holographic banner read, “Unity in Privacy: The Future of Social Harmony.”
Rhonda was the keynote speaker, dressed impeccably in a sleek, futuristic ensemble. Timothy, too, was in attendance, not just as her partner but as a saboteur armed with a small device that would make the Whisperers audible to everyone.
As Rhonda took the stage, she began extolling the virtues of their society, the isolation of eating as the cornerstone of their peaceful existence. The audience listened intently, nodding and clapping at her well-argued points.
Then Timothy activated the device.
At first, it was just a murmur—a soft ripple of whispers that seemed like an audio glitch. People looked around, confused. But then the whispers grew louder, forming words that soon became coherent sentences: “Do you know us? Do you consume without thought?”
The audience was horrified. Faces turned pale, and some covered their mouths in shock. Rhonda looked aghast, her eyes scanning the crowd and finally meeting Timothy, who gave her a look that mixed regret with an urgent plea for understanding.
“Is this a prank?” someone shouted from the audience. “A sick joke?”
“No,” Rhonda spoke into the mic, her voice trembling but clear. “No, this is not a joke. But it is a revelation. A hard truth that we must face as a society. I… I don’t know how this came to be, but it’s evident that we must investigate this, address it, and adapt.”
With that daring exposure, Timothy had upended the very norms that had held Solace together. He had become a pariah, yes, but also a catalyst for change. Rhonda felt both betrayed and enlightened, her carefully constructed worldview shattered.
As they left the event, walking separately yet bound by a new, unsettling reality, Timothy felt the device vibrate in his pocket. A message displayed on its screen: “Thank you.”
In the days following the event, Solace was a city transformed. The news channels were dominated by debates about ethics, sentience, and the role of technology in modern life. A city that prided itself on harmony was now filled with uncertainty and discord.
Timothy was suspended from his job as an investigation into the ‘Whisperer Phenomenon’ commenced. Rhonda, surprisingly, was lauded for her composed handling of the shocking revelation. However, she took a sabbatical from her position in PR, wrestling with her own feelings of betrayal and enlightenment.
“Can we recover from this?” Rhonda finally asked Timothy one evening, her voice tinged with accusation and yearning.
“I don’t know,” Timothy said honestly. “But what I do know is that we’ve been given a chance to make things right, both as individuals and as a society.”
Rhonda looked at him, her eyes softening. “Then let’s begin with us,” she said, taking a tentative step toward reconciliation.
As Solace grappled with its new reality, legislation was being drafted to address the ethical concerns of consuming sentient food. The science community was abuzz with discussions about the ‘Whisperers,’ viewing them as a new frontier in the understanding of sentience and consciousness.
And then, just when it seemed like the city was taking its first steps toward ethical consumption—focused now on plant-based diets—Timothy received another whisper, this time while standing near a pot of ferns in his living room: “Do you hear us too?”
MADD FICTIONAL 