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The new human-motes were finally being fed. They weren't as famished as they would have been, since their connection through their symbiotic relationship with their mote was able to sustain them.

Fungi culture was still respected, the relationships the chefs and Darmon discovered were served together. Darmon helped open it up to "nonsexual" feedings as well, since human members wouldn't mind eating with platonic partners. Orren still gave them each privacy as they began their meals, so the network grew quiet as everyone had breakfast.

The nurses and doctors were assured by the chefs and Darmon that humans are used to eating during specific periods of the day (Darmon had explained breakfast, lunch, and dinner to the chefs), but the idea of a time of day dictating a meal was still foreign to the fungi. The chefs loved the idea; it seemed like a very joyous occasion for them. But Darmon could feel the secondhand embarrassment coursing through the network, in what seemed like a group hallucination as the nurses giggled and talked in hushed whispers about the oddity of it all.

The one downside that no one could have accounted for (maybe the chefs had some foresight, but knew they were all going to find out one way or another), was the immense surge of energy through the network that resulted in the overlapping meals.

Orren could feel it the most, as he was burdened with somehow dissipating all the extra energy through the greater network. Luckily, as a medical facility, he had direct access to a main channel. Even still, the large influx of energy could be felt by the entire colony. If parts of the colony didn't know about humans yet, or haven't been paying attention to the whispers, there's no hiding it now.

"And you want this to happen three times for each waking period?" Garden's voice boomed, always full of cheer and with a glint in his eye. He patted his rotund belly and guffawed, "what a rush!"

Darmon pondered, "Not to make a decision for my whole flush, but I believe we may only need it once a day, as symbiotes."

Garden patted his back with a spongy yet dense hand, "that can be arranged. There's a lot of history with your mealtimes, it sounds. Continuing that would be our pleasure."

"Our pleasure," Darmon affirms, feeling our honesty through the pat on his back.