[sad tentacle noises]

Her smile gets wider. "Enjoy your meal."

I can't help but laugh at the ominousness, but I am a little intrigued, too. Helena has the weirdest connections, so it's probably something exotic. Maybe from the colonies? The natural fauna on most planets isn't particularly palatable - sometimes outright inedible - for humans, but a few get gene-modified for exactly that purpose. And some Earth-livestock takes on unusual properties after being introduced to a slightly different atmosphere - everybody knows about Obos Prime beef. So I assume it's something like this.

I carefully cut off a bit of one of the pieces, chew, and focus on the taste. Lean, pretty mild overall, with a hint of sweetness, I think? Certainly tastes similar to pork, too.

"It's very good," I comment after swallowing a bite.

Helena is watching me intently the whole time. "Not too bland? I went light on the seasoning to not overpower the natural flavor."

After trying another bite, I shrug. "I mean, it could totally see it fitting well with some kind of marinade, in general. But no, not bland. I like it."

"Now the other one, please."

"Yes, Sir…"

I once again focus on the taste. Definitely the same type of meat, the same animal or whatever.

"Any difference?" she asks, taking a sip of her wine.

"I'm not sure." I try another bite. "Maybe a little more… flavorful? But to be honest, I never before paid this much attention to my food, so I might be imagining it. You're putting me a little on the spot here," I complain playfully.

"I apologize," she chuckles and finally starts eating, too.

After a bit of silent chewing, I look at her curiously. "Well, do you taste a difference?"

"Yes, but it's very subtle," Helena confirms. "I thought it might be more pronounced."

"You want to enlighten me already what our mystery meat here is?"

"Why don't we finish first?"

There's that cryptic smile again, and I laugh. "I'm not going to like the answer, am I?"

If she's this sketchy, it's something weird. Some kind of animal I wouldn't have eaten if I'd known beforehand. I don't particularly mind that she's introducing me to new foods this way - I am well aware that it's purely in my head where I make the distinction which animal to label 'food' and which not. It can't be too cute or too creepy, and having the meat be a little more 'anonymous' makes it easier to swallow, literally.

We eat, drink, have our usual pleasant dinner conversation, and eventually finish our plates. Wine glass in hand, I lean back in my chair, very curious to finally solve the mystery. "So - what did we just eat?"

Helena smiles at me silently for a long moment, then she simply states: "Us."

"I'm sorry?"

"Clonemeat. Of you and me." I stare at her, trying to process her words, and she continues. "I was wondering if there is a noticeable difference in taste if you don't factor in age, recent nutrition, and all that. If multiple generations on a different planet may have an influence. Of course, I'm well aware that the sample size is too small to make an actual judgment about it, but I was curious, so I figured - why not give it a try?"

"You're kidding, right?" I ask, mouth agape. Helena raises her eyebrow in response - of course she's not kidding, when is she ever? Now that it slowly settles in what she just told me, I can feel this sour sensation building up in the back of my throat, my jaw clenching. I take a deep breath and try to wash down the taste with a big gulp of wine. "I can't believe you made me eat this," I murmur, half to myself.

Helena frowns, almost a little surprised by my discomfort. "I thought you enjoyed it."

"We ate human meat! Our human meat!" I'm not even sure if that makes it better or worse, somehow? But I guess it's nice we at least ate both of us, and not just me, in some fucked up display of dominance… God, this is so gross.

"So?"

Is she serious? "It's called cannibalism," I press out with a grimace. How is she so nonchalant about this?

Helena rolls her eyes. "Oh, don't be ridiculous. Not like I chopped off your arm and grilled it. It's clonemeat like any other."

"No, it's not?!" How can she not see this? "Also, I thought there's laws against this kind of stuff!" Not that it's exactly my area of expertise, but I'm pretty sure it's illegal to grow human meat for consumption.

She shrugs, unbothered as usual. "There are laws against growing it commercially, yes. But it's not like anyone can stop you from doing it in private."

Yes, because people just randomly grow their own meat at home. Unbelievable. "This is so fucked up."

"I really don't see what the big deal is."

I run my hand through my hair, exasperated. "How can you not see this?! We ate human meat!"

She takes a sip of wine, looking at me intently. "How is that different from literally any other meat?"

"Because it's wrong, like, on a moral ground!"

"Why?" Helena asks, eyebrow raised.

"…because!" Maybe not my brightest argument, but I'm still so flabbergasted by this whole encounter that I can't think straight.

"Well?"

"Because it is!" I huff, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "It feels wrong!"

"That sounds more like a sentimental reason than a moral one to me."

"Are you serious?!" I can feel myself getting increasingly agitated, while Helena remains her usual calm self.

"Well, you don't mind eating meat, generally speaking."

"That's different."

"Why?" she asks, and there's genuine curiosity in her voice. "What is the morally relevant distinction between humans and other creatures? Why does Homo sapiens as a species deserve special treatment? Why is it more moral to kill and eat an animal, than to lab-grow human meat?" She gestures at our empty plates. "Nothing died for this."

"Are you trying to turn me into a vegetarian?" I grumble.

"No, not really. But that at least would be morally consistent, in my opinion," she shrugs. "Everything else seems a little hypocritical."

"Oh, so I'm a hypocrite now," I pout, a bit hurt.

"No, I said your argument is a little hypocritical."

I frown at her silently for a few moments, still really grossed out by the whole thing, and at the same time frustrated that I don't have a better argument. I know I can't win this one, and I hate it when that happens. Guess that's the downside of dating a fucking genius who always has rational, well-thought-out reasoning for everything.

"Fine. You're right. It is hypocritical," I finally admit, refilling my glass and taking a big swig. "I would still very much prefer to never, ever eat human again, if possible."

"Noted." The corners of her mouth twitch. "But you have to admit, it wasn't bad."

I glare at her for a second, but I can't suppress a chuckle. What is this woman turning me into? "No comment. Also, for the record: If I die, I do not want to get eaten by you." I am joking, but on the other hand, I suddenly feel like I need to state that explicitly. What does it say about the nature of our relationship?

Helena lets out a dramatic sigh. "Well, if you insist…" Her smile gets a little mischievous. "It would have a certain romanticism, though. Don't you think?"

I stare at her, flabbergasted, then I start to laugh. "You are the worst!" Sometimes I forget how fucked up her humor is.

Because surely, she's joking. Hopefully.

---

Helena's arguments cite directly from:

Routley, Richard (1982). In Defence of Cannibalism, I: Types of Admissible and Inadmissible Cannibalism. Canberra: Australian National University, Philosophy Department

Wisnewski, J. Jeremy (2004). "A Defense of Cannibalism". Public Affairs Quarterly. 18 (3): 266, 271.

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