My eyes force themselves open as I find myself standing in an empty room, bare as the day I was born. Looking around the blank white room, I find myself come face to face to a translucent green panel before me.
[Happy birthday 00719! You have been born]
"What?" I say in my stupor, I don't recognise the language written or even the one I spoke. Thinking further I don't seem to recognise much.
[The multiverse has willed that its inhabitants need a generalisable relaxant, it is in a state of chaos it seems. Thus you have been created, congratulations once again on your first steps]
I stepped back in confusion and a painful realisation that despite my innate sense of maturity I had no memories to reinforce that feeling. "What do you mean relaxant?"
[You are to act as a hub for all beings to relax, a true neutral entity that exchanges this reprieve for goods, services or currency. You are a blank slate, being born of the multiverse you have aptitude in all things, effort is all you need to attain it. You are tasked with using this aptitude to create an environment suitable for relaxation.
Hold still a moment as I create a standard layout for the hub.]
Before I could ask what the tirade about relaxation or aptitude was the room shifted about, pristine polish wood tables shifted out from the floor, stools, a bar and a kitchen rose as birch wood lined the walls, oak for the floor.
I stumbled back, catching myself holding onto the bar. From it, threads raced up my arms onto my body stretching and intertwining into a black shirt, trousers, comfy leather shoes and a dull grey apron.
"What in the holy fuck is this" I try to fight it as they wrap around me, pushing the threads away only for them to continue with fervour, trapping my arms inside the shirt.
[Remodelling complete, 00719 you now have 7 days 0 hours 0minutes to gain an acceptable level of ability in the culinary arts before the first universe is linked. We wish you well.]
The panel disappears and I'm left, arms still wrapped in the shirt and confused to all known means. I don't even know what I look like, from the colour of my hair to the species I am.
At that mention one of the bar walls shifts as a mirror shows me my own reflection. Black curly hair, on the shorter side though. My height I couldn't gauge as everything here seems to have been built for my size anyway, and for some reason I know that too many species look like me anyway.
[Observe lv1]
An alert notified me of this, apparently gained from looking so intently on my body in the mirror. But I was just happy to have a decent enough looking face though balanced with my admittedly skinny body.
Nevertheless, I did feel a drive, one to go to the kitchen and just do something… anything. I walked over and started opening all the cupboards and shelves, from the spice rack to the large fridge in the back. The first stage needed was to create a list to categorise stock and how much of it I had.
About 90 minutes later and I had done so, realising a very unique feature of this place. Once I take out something, immediately a new pepper, body or plate will take its place. Thus I only have one of everything but they simply spawn more when taken.
The list shows nothing but standard cooking ingredients, mundane carcasus and vegetables. Though an ungodly amount of it, varying my cooking options excessively so. Should I please, boiled scorpion seasoned with elephant skin flakes and parsley is in the realm of possibility.
With no prior experience of cooking, I was thankful to find a cookbook with a red hardback cover sat on a chopping board. I took a seat in the front area on a bar stool and begun reading. None of what was inside was a recipe by itself, but more so how to prepare the kitchen, cross contamination, allergy safety and cleaning.
[Reading lv1]
I don't know how long it took to read it, since the pages felt like they dragged on abnormally long, unless that's just me. But once I finished, I wanted the first meal to be one that was worthy of being palatable.
I vaguely know what everything here tastes like, but I also want to account for nutrition, it seemed to be important in that book. So I will make a dish that's a good mix of everything, Mutton, corn and cinnamon sticks.
I turn the stove on, preheating the pan and applying vegetable oil to it and a slice of butter. I realise I forgot to prepare the sheep leg and run to grab a body from the back, dragging it back, I heave it onto the large chopping block in the centre of the kitchen and pull out a bread knife. This looks like it'll cut quite well won't it?