Everyone was already home. Morona was brewing tea. Evan was wiping the table. The rest of the girls were cleaning, hiding things, or taking them out.
In the end, the place was spotless — as if they were preparing for an English high tea in an exclusive salon. Morona scanned the entire room, as if she wanted to make sure there wasn't a single speck of dust or stray hair anywhere.
"Hey, Morona! Who's actually coming? The Queen of Albion?"
Frida burst out. Order, especially in this form, was far from her anarchist style. Evan was also surprised. Morona had said they would have a guest, but she hadn't said who.
"Yeah, Morona, who's coming?"
"Ummm…"
Everyone expected some flowery statement, not this. Especially not with her looking away and lowering her antennae. That wasn't typical for her.
"Mori, is something wrong?" Aiko spoke up, but everyone felt that something was off. Morona wasn't that kind of girl. She should have given them some poetic anecdote, not avoided the answer.
The atmosphere grew tense. Frida stepped forward. She was about to press her when…
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang through the living room. Morona's antennae shot straight up, and their owner hid her face behind her claws. She nervously glanced left and right. For a moment, silence fell. It was broken by a second ring. Evan headed for the door.
Behind it stood a praying mantis wearing a blazer and glasses. She looked very similar to Morona.
She gave him a stern look and snorted lightly.
"I am Dr. Valeriana Florentine. Is Morona home?"
"Yes, please come in."
A few moments later, the woman was sitting on a stool in their living room. The girls and Evan stared at both mantises with expressions of astonishment.
She was Morona's mother. At first, they couldn't believe it. The daughter: an incomprehensible gothic poet. The mother looked like a corporate executive.
"That's impossible," Frida whispered her opinion to the others. They gave her a clear response.
"The pot calling the kettle black."
They gave her what they considered honest feedback. Frida was an anarchist, and her father was a system man.
The Doctor cleared her throat. Everyone turned their attention to her.
"Young man. Your costume is truly impressive. You look just like a real human. I understand you want to show it off, but aren't you hot? Your tail must be hurting you."
Everyone looked at Evan, then at Morona's mother.
"It's not a costume."
Surprise bloomed on the woman's face.
"You can check for yourself."
The woman touched him several times with her claws, then said, clearly not believing it:
"Real…"
The atmosphere became strangely tense. Aiko decided to break it.
"So what exactly do you do, Doctor?"
"I'm a psychiatrist."
Frida let out a small laugh.
"So you can tell us why Morona talks like that?"
Callisa and Aiko elbowed Frida hard. Evan gave an apologetic look. Morona lowered her head. Dr. Valeriana also lowered her head, and a sadness appeared on her previously impassive face.
"Morona didn't always speak like this…"
She looked at her daughter, who nodded.
"You know how relationships usually end for us, right?"
Aiko clasped her hands as if in prayer and looked to the side.
"Uhh… mantises love to death, and guys lose their heads over them?"
The Doctor took a sip of tea.
"That's how it was with my husband too. We tried to have children… safely, so he could watch them grow up. We had many attempts, but nothing worked. Only when we decided to take the risk and go all the way did we succeed. The result of that attempt are Morona and her siblings…"
Frida spoke up. There was something in her voice that suggested deep emotional pain.
"The mission was a success, but the agent did not survive."
Both mantises lowered their heads.
"Morona has always been interested in poetry. She learned about her father's death a little too early. It was a shock for all the siblings, but she took it the worst. From that moment on, she only speaks in verse. I think it's some kind of defense mechanism. She tries to give everything a greater meaning through poetry."
The mother sighed heavily.
"I tried various therapies. However, it seems that only a strong shock can pull Morona out of this. I tried, but the only thing I achieved was that she became afraid of me. I don't want to expose her to more stress."
Everyone fell silent. The atmosphere became so thick it could be cut with a knife.
"So what are you working on lately, Doctor?"
"Lately I've been researching the subject of meat erosion."
Instantly, something Rufus had once said came back to Evan.
"My friend once told me that meat erosion is a myth."
The woman gave him a stern look. Morona covered him protectively with her claws.
"Unfortunately, it is not a myth. It stems from a misunderstanding of how the disease works. The same applies to other mental illnesses. Everyone assumes that someone just suddenly… as they say… loses it. Unfortunately, the most visible form of the disease is only the final stage of the process."
She looked at them carefully. They didn't understand much of it.
"Meat erosion is the internalization of being meat, supported by the fragmentation of identity and the loss of one's role."
All their faces showed they didn't understand. The Doctor pointed at Frida, Callisa, and Aiko.
"If I asked you who you really are, what would you answer in one word?"
"Rebel."
"Cook."
"Artist."
The woman nodded.
"Those are your roles. They protect you from the world's narrative. They give you something to hold on to in this world."
She looked out the window.
"In our culture, meat holds a very special significance. Messages come from everywhere telling you that you are delicious. You are meat. You can be meat. This applies to both culture and everyday life."
Aiko nodded and listed a few titles.
"A person deprived of their own role internalizes — that is, accepts — this narrative. The missing role is replaced by being meat."
Frida thought for a moment.
"So it means someone wakes up one day and gets the idea that they want to be eaten."
The Doctor shook her head.
"It doesn't work like that. The disease can develop for years before it reaches that point. Everything depends on the person's role and environment."
She looked at them.
"The first symptoms are often ignored. It's a strong interest in meat-related topics and intense fantasies about being meat."
Something occurred to Evan.
"I have acquaintances. One admits to fantasies, and the other…"
Frida slapped him on the shoulder.
"You mean the ram? He's a nihilist and a pervert."
Valeriana cleared her throat.
"That's why in the first stage the disease is hard to identify. In the second stage, dreams about being meat appear, along with auditory and olfactory hallucinations. The fantasies become stronger, and the patient begins to feel arousal at the possibility of being eaten."
Aiko's eyes widened at the Doctor.
"That sounds like a Rule34 scenario."
She nodded and continued:
"That's why the second stage is very often diagnosed as hypersexuality, not erosion."
Callisa asked a question. There was clear unease in her voice.
"What happens in the third stage?"
"The patient loses their self-preservation instinct. Before, being eaten might have terrified them, but now it only arouses them. They start ignoring dangerous signals if they're connected to being meat. They even provoke dangerous situations themselves. Most patients die before reaching the next phase."
A moment of silence fell — like before the announcement of a death sentence.
"In the fourth phase, all resistance disappears. The patient actively seeks someone who will eat them. They often target the meat-eaters closest to them. And those are unable to refuse."
The girls' eyes widened.
"Uhh… why not just go to a doctor if something's wrong with your head?"
Valeriana stirred her tea.
"That's what's most dangerous about meat erosion. The symptoms appear gradually. Slowly. So that neither the patient nor their surroundings realize when it's already too late."
Callisa swallowed.
"The Overton window."
Valeriana nodded.
"And you can't just drag someone to a doctor?"
Frida waved her hand dismissively.
"Usually, the patient's surroundings realize something's wrong when the patient is already flexing on their kitchen counter."
She looked at them with a piercing gaze.
"Tell me honestly. If someone you like was throwing themselves onto your plate, would you be able to stop yourselves?"
The girls murmured under their breath. However, in every brain in this world, the centers of hunger and desire were essentially the same. In their minds, a vision of Evan on a plate, served in their favorite way, appeared. Words couldn't leave their mouths. Instead, their bodies answered. Four stomachs growled loudly.
"I see you understand. Erosion isn't dangerous because it exists — it's dangerous because no one notices it before it's too late."
She took a sip of tea.
"If you notice such symptoms in someone, try to convince them to see a psychiatrist. If it's already too late… eat them in a way that makes them proud."
She emptied her cup