The smell of a paste mixed with damp cardboard and metal rust stubbornly entered Lu Yuan's nostrils, forcibly pulling him out of his chaotic sleep.
He groaned, turned over, and tried to bury his face in the quilt whose original color was no longer distinguishable.
"Raggedy, how many times have I told you, don't make the 'Morning Nutrient Paste' at six o'clock in the morning." His voice was hoarse and had a strong nasal tone. "This thing smells like it has been fermented in a rusty iron cow corpse for three months."
"Good morning, Mr. Lu Yuan." An emotionless electronic synthesized voice sounded in the small cabin. The source was an old speaker embedded in the wall. "According to your health monitoring data, six o'clock every day is the best time to replenish protein and carbohydrates. The formula of 'Morning Nutrition Paste' is the official ration standard A-7 of the No. 7 Garbage Star. It has balanced nutrition and low cost."
"It's so cheap!" Lu Yuan slapped the bed board, causing several screws that fell out of nowhere to jingle. "After deducting the parking fee, energy tax, and the monthly 'maintenance fee' for your crappy system, I don't even have the credits left this month to buy a pack of the worst quality cigarettes!"
The speaker was silent for three seconds.
