“No, they’re in there. Just look. While you’re at it, get me the cheese, too.”

“I am looking. It’s not here. The only beer in here is this crap.” Brent handed a package to Jeremiah and, with a grim expression, opened a can of light beer.

“This is fat-free mozzarella,” Jeremiah said, tossing the package aside. “Is there anything else in there? What the hell is fat-free cheese even made from, anyway? I thought cheese was fat.”

“That’s it for the cheese. What gives, porky? You on a diet or something?”

“Not that I know of,” Jeremiah said, and stuck his head in the fridge. “What the hell? What happened to all my food?”

There was no half-and-half, a piece of chocolate cake saved from yesterday was gone and the milk had been replaced with a carton of something that looked like it had been used to clean a paintbrush. There were more fruits and vegetables than an average horse could eat in a week. He checked the freezer. Ice cream had been replaced with frozen fruit bars and an entire stack of frozen pizzas had simply disappeared.

“Okay,” he said, shaking his head. “Something’s gone crazy around here. I have this thing programmed to order my food in a very particular way. None of this fat-free, diet garbage is on my list. That’s for sure.”

“That’s weird,” Brent said. “Maybe a malfunction or something?”

“That’s quite a malfunction, I’d say.” Jeremiah went to the old-fashioned telephone and picked it up for the first time in more than a month.

A cheery female voice greeted him as soon as the receiver was at his ear.

“Good evening, Mr. Adams,” she said. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes, h-hello,” he stammered, still feeling somewhat like he was calling room service in an overpriced hotel. “I wonder if you could tell me what’s happened to all the food in my refrigerator. It seems to have been stolen and replaced with an assortment of inedible things. Fat-free milk, for example. And fruit.”

“That was an order from Dr. Pike, Mr. Adams. He sent it down this afternoon. Is there a problem?”

“Yes,” he told her. “The problem is I won’t eat any of this stuff. The problem is I am going to starve to death in here. I’m no scientist, but I think that might be bad for this experiment.”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to speak to Dr. Pike about that, Mr. Adams. His order was very specific and I’m afraid I can’t override it without express permission. If the food isn’t to your liking, a new shopping list has been preprogrammed into the refrigerator. There are over one hundred and fifty items within the allowable parameters. Or I have a list of permissible items I can have sent to you right away, if you prefer.”

“That list wouldn’t happen to include any normal cheese, by any chance. Maybe a variety that is actually made from cheese? I’m trying to make lasagna.”