Fake Food for the Hollow Man

Berlin, Mitte.

— inside a café, Prenzlauer Berg, Berlin.

Berlin was hiding in a snowstorm. From Mitte to Prenzlauer Berg — white noise. No sight, just shape and blur.

I pulled over, parked, took shelter in a café. All vegan. Tempeh croissants. Pea-protein pastrami. Blue spirulina latte with oat-ash topping.

Wrong place, wrong energy. I was about to leave. But something made me stay. A man in the corner chews a burger without meat,

drinks pea-coffee with soy foam, talks to his screen and scrolls through a life longing for presence.

His toddler cries for a bite. Ignored. He snaps a selfie — fake smile set. Takes another bite. Swallows.

An avatar with digestion.

The senses are being phased out. Tastebuds numb. Craving branded and sealed.

First to liberate. Then to discipline. First the flesh.Then the frame. Polarized, divided, numbed.

History as organism, repeating itself. Revolt bred failure. Now, there’s no need to crush dissent — just to hollow man further.

His gut emptied by fear. His core erased. What remains is the hollow man.

No voice. No protest. No fight.

Just algorithm. Pushing fear.

Progress seeking direction. The future as default.

Humanity deleted.