Read Online Assimilation (Concordia Series Book 1) by Lydia Chelsea - Free Book Online

put in your mouth?”
    “Yes. Why?”
    “What if you want something that isn’t listed?”
    “Why would you want to eat something that isn’t compatible with your body chemistry?” he asks, perplexed.
    “Because I can decide for myself what I want.  Just because I chose this,” I gesture at my scant apple and cheese, “doesn’t mean it’s what I really wanted.”
    “You should have chosen something else, then,” Ritter answers, clearly not understanding my irritation.
    “This was the best option it gave me!” I cried, biting down hard on a wedge of apple.  “Why can’t I have what you’re having?”
    He blinks. “Because potatoes are a nightshade, and it said you’re sensitive.  You could have had the broccoli.  The steak was probably pulled from your options because of the high calorie replacement liquids you had in holding today.”
    I continue to gripe until Ritter is almost finished.
    “Why do you want to go against the ScanX?  I mean, there are a lot of things in life that aren’t fair and don’t make sense, but you’re choosing to fight against proper nutrition?”
    “I’m old enough to decide for myself what to eat!”
    “But you’re not,” he shakes his head.  “I’ve been to Attero, remember?  People are fat.  So fat they sometimes can’t walk. They ride around in little motor carts so they don’t have to walk.  Some of them have to lug around canisters of extra air just so they can breathe.  Some are missing legs or arms.  Some can’t see.  Some even have to poop in bags outside their own bodies because their intestines don’t work anymore.”
    “Ritter, we’re eating,” I put a hand up in what I hope is an inter-dimensional sign for stop.  “That’s gross,” I snap.
    I look down at what is left of my apple and cheese and feel sick at the truth in his words.  Not everyone is like that.  He’s describing some people in America, sure enough. And maybe some other parts of the world.  But not everyone is sick, and surely it isn’t all from food.
    Ritter shakes his head again.  “There are things that are wrong here, just like anywhere.  But the ScanX is right.  We’re all different shapes and sizes, but very few here are overweight and even fewer are unhealthy.  Some people are sick, of course, but not from food.  If they’re missing parts of their bodies it’s usually from an accident or from a genetic disorder we haven’t found a cure for yet.”
    “But on Earth, my Earth,” I shoot back around the last wedge of apple, “We’re free.  We make our own decisions.  We may live or die by them, but at least we get to decide.”
    “You die so early, though,” Ritter says, wiping his mouth.  “You don’t have to.  Here, since the ScanX, people who have been raised entirely by breath chemistry are living well into their hundreds. You retire on Attero somewhere between sixty and seventy.  Here, people work happily into their late nineties and beyond!”
    I roll my eyes and eat my last cube of cheese.  Ritter’s plate is empty, but he’s waiting for me to finish before leaving the table.  I think about what he said.  I don’t want to admit he’s right, but it’s hard to argue with those statistics. At home, they’re starting to talk about imposing taxes or other penalties on junk food.  But where do you draw the line between acting in the public’s best interest and as a police state?  And this is only food we’re talking about.  What else does Concordia use technology to control?
    I don’t continue the argument, keeping those thoughts to myself.  Despite having sat around asking Strega questions for most of the day, I am tired enough that my eyes feel gritty and my head, foggy.
    Ritter stacks my plate on his and picks up the knife I’d used on my apple and cheese.  I stand awkwardly in the entrance to the servette while he washes them, not knowing what else to do with myself.
    He shows me the rest of his keeping.  It’s not