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The breaking point came on a rainy Tuesday. Arthur had a grueling day at work. He wanted comfort. He wanted a massive, un-calculated, non-audited pile of spaghetti carbonara

As he sat down, the plate’s rim pulsed a soft, reassuring blue.

"Identification confirmed," a pleasant, synthetic voice emanated from his phone. "Wild-caught Sockeye Salmon. 142 grams. Asparagus spears. 88 grams. Arthur, you are currently 14% under your protein target for the day. Please consume the salmon first to maximize metabolic thermogenesis." Arthur obeyed. It felt efficient. It felt right.

He stared at the spaghetti. He stared at the glowing red ring. Then, he looked at his old, chipped, porcelain IKEA plate sitting in the back of the cupboard—the one that didn't know his name, didn't care about his insulin, and certainly didn't have an opinion on who he wanted to be.