So, I’m assuming you guys have heard of these online Recipe Box services. Companies like HelloFresh or Blue Apron that deliver high quality ingredients and cooking guides so their customers can create restaurant style meals in the comfort of their own kitchens.
Well my Girlfriend and I adore them. One of the highlights of our week is opening the packages to discover which delicious, healthy meal we’ll be making together. It’s not only brought us closer together as a couple, it’s actually helped us lose a couple of pounds, since we’ve opted for the low fat menus.
Now, I use Tor browsers to access the Dark Web. Not for anything weird, I don’t buy drugs or stolen electronics, nor do I venture into the seedier parts of the internet’s underground. I know it’s there; I just don’t care to see it.
But on one little browsing session, I came across a Recipe Box service that appeared to be exclusive to the Dark Web. It was called Mi-Go-Cook. It only accepted Bitcoin payments, but it promised to be the most exciting, adventurous meal delivery service available.
I signed up without a second thought. My girlfriend would be in for a delectable surprise.
The first Recipe Box arrived exactly on schedule.
We were already making awkward jokes about the probability of being tricked into consuming human flesh sent by some Dark Web psychopath. Yet as we popped open the box and saw that the ingredients were indeed of the highest quality, all our fears dissipated.
That doesn’t mean it wasn’t an unusual meal plan. The Filet of Yig came with a large, bright-white slab of meat along with little baggies of potent smelling herbs. Galangal from south east Asia, Pandanus from the South Pacific, along with all manner of seasoning that neither of us had ever heard of.
I admit we were both a little apprehensive to sample such adventurous cuisine, but once the divine smells of the meat and spices in our skillet had begun to waft around the kitchen, we were sold. It was without doubt the most delicious meal either of us had ever tasted in our lives. Rich, exotic flavors that seemed to effortlessly complement each other along with the most tender, mouthwatering meat I’ve ever purchased.
But something was wrong.
The next morning, both of us had to call into work. My girlfriend wouldn’t stop puking into the bathroom sink while I had diarrhea so bad that it left me painfully dehydrated.
I emailed the customer complaints department of Mi-Go-Cook, pretty angry that their meal had gotten us so goddamn sick. The reply came back almost instantly. Apparently they were inundated with complaints since one of the ingredients in the last batch had not been sourced properly, I had no idea what that meant, but I found their offer of a full refund and a free meal kit to be very reasonable.
There was, however, a caveat. The meat we’d been sourced was from a very rare sea creature, one on the endangered species list and therefore highly illegal to purchase or consume. We were instructed not to contact any local emergency services, since this could result in our arrest and detainment.
We’ve waited days now and nothing has arrived. Each of us has been too sick to leave our apartment, but we’re not yet desperate enough to call 911. We just don’t have the cash to spare for something like that and I’m terrified we’ll be arrested if the authorities discover what we’ve eaten.
My girlfriend has been sleeping for almost 24 hours now, she’s so weak. Her skin has turned from healthy pink to a sickly pale, last time I checked on her she actually looked kind of grey. She was wheezing too, her mouth gaping as she gasps for fresh air. Almost like a fish when it’s trapped out of water. I’m really worried about her, I’m scared she’s dying.
I feel really woozy but I think the meal delivery guy has arrived. He’s been wandering around the hallway outside for a while now. I’m not sure how long, I’m losing track of time, but it must be them. I hope it is anyway.
I checked the peephole on our front door. The guy wears a weird looking rubber uniform and a small face mask with ventilators on it. I called out to him but he won’t reply, he just stares back at the peephole with that dark visor covering his eyes.
He’s been watching, waiting, taking notes while other men in rubber uniforms and face masks arrive. I don’t recognize the symbols on their clothing or equipment. They carry a lot of equipment, medical looking stuff.
But something tells me…
…they’re not here to help.
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