Almost Perfect

After binding to a Food System, I became its biggest bug.

Others spend money on perfect recipes. I turn the flawed versions into signature dishes.

Customers say, “It's missing something,” after eating, then come back the next day.

The System locks my recipes in a fit of rage, so I crack them by making blind guesses.

The capitalists surround me with perfect recipes, and I fight back with the memories of a hundred ordinary people.

At last, the System asks me: What is it you really want?

I say: I want you to disappear.

System: ...Your grandfather said the same thing back then.

Perfection is data. Imperfection is what makes us alive.