All You Can Feed

The young nurse showed Tanaka-san how to point his phone at his breakfast.

“Just hold it like this,” she said. “Ten seconds. Add sparkles. Post.”

By lunch, ten thousand people had watched his toast. By dinner, his miso soup had fifty thousand views. None of them were eating - they were just watching him eat.

“You’re trending!” the nurse exclaimed. “Quick, do something with your chopsticks. No, slower. More feeling. Perfect!”

In his old life, Tanaka-san had written a story about aliens who fed on human emotions. The critics called it far-fetched.

Now he watched as millions of young people danced alone in their rooms, each performing the exact same movements, each believing they were expressing their unique individuality. Their phones drank in their movements, their joy, their desperate desire to be seen.

“Your follower count is rising fast,” the nurse said. “The algorithm loves you!”

“What does it do with all this love?” Tanaka-san asked.

“Do? It doesn’t do anything. It just watches. And we watch each other. And everyone is happy.”

That night, Tanaka-san dreamed of his old story’s aliens. In the dream, they were apologizing to him.

“Sorry,” they said. “Your version was much too complicated.”

His phone vibrated. The dream had gotten a million likes.