Page 80 of Puck Your Feelings
"Absolutely." I grab a cart and thrust it at him. "Fans demand content, and watching you attempt to interact with produce is premium entertainment."
Kane takes the cart with a sigh that could wilt the flower display we're passing. "I am actively, continuously not consenting to this."
I steer us toward the produce section, where nature's bounty awaits in all its overpriced, suspiciously shiny glory. The fluorescent lights make everything look like it's been dipped in plastic.
"First lesson in human shopping," I announce to the camera, "is selecting proper avocados. Not that pre-portioned, vacuum-sealed abomination you get from a meal service."
Kane looks genuinely offended. "Those are perfectly fine avocados."
"They're avocado-adjacent food products at best." I grab one from the display and hold it up. "A proper avocado should yield slightly to gentle pressure, like this." I demonstrate, squeezing it with what I consider expert precision.
Kane watches with the intense concentration.. "That seems subjective."
"Shopping is an art, not a science." I hand him an avocado. "You try."
He takes it, examines it, then gives it the gentlest squeeze I've ever seen, like he's afraid it'll explode.
"More pressure than that. It's not a baby bird. There you go. Now check a few more. They should all feel similar."
He selects another, testing it with newfound confidence. "This one's harder."
"That one needs a few days to ripen." I grab a third. "And this one's too soft—it'll be brown mush inside."
Kane's brow furrows. "You realize avocados have approximately 240 calories each and 22 grams of fat?"
I turn to the camera with a pained expression. "Do you see what I'm working with here?"
"I'm simply pointing out—"
"Nope." I put a finger to his lips, and he goes cross-eyed staring at it. "No nutrition facts in the produce aisle. It's against the law."
"What law—"
"It's the law of humanity, Kane. Normal people don't memorize calorie counts."
From behind a towering cereal display, I spot Petrov poorly hiding while filming us on his phone. He gives me a thumbs up.
Kane sighs. Fine. What's next in this human shopping experience?"
"That depends. What do you actually eat? Besides the souls of opposing forwards and protein shakes."
His eyes narrow. "I eat normal food."
"Name one thing in your fridge that wasn't portion-controlled by a meal service."
He thinks for a moment. "Hot sauce?"
"Condiments don't count."
"Coffee?"
"I said fridge."
He sighs. "Fine. I don't cook much."
"And that," I declare triumphantly, "is why we're here. Robot learns to feed himself, part one."
In the pasta aisle, we run into Groover and Mateo, who are actually shopping like functional adults. Mateo has a list. Groover is comparing two different brands of pasta sauce with excessive concentration.
