From my favorite novel, Dodie Smith’s I Capture the Castle, a bit of dinner conversation:
The Vicar was watching us across the table.
“When this house was built, people used daggers and their fingers,” he said. “And it’ll probably last until the days when men dine on capsules.”
“Fancy asking friends to come over for capsules,” I said.
“Oh, the capsules will be taken in private,” said father. “By then, eating will have become unmentionable. Pictures of food will be considered rare and curious, and only collected by rude old gentlemen.”
[T]here’s a certain cold comfort in knowing that if worse comes to worst, nanotechnology might give us a food pill that, taken every 10 years or so, would power our bodies if the planet loses the ability to do so.
I want something that will enable me to eat all the cake, pie, ice cream, pizza, tacos and big-a** burgers I want without gaining an ounce. I don’t care if it’s a pill or a nanobot or what as long as it works and is simple, painless and affordable. And I want it now.
I’ll have what she’s having.
Addendum: “Noshville Katz,” a parody of a certain John Sebastian tune recorded by “The Lovin’ Cohens,” contains this couplet:
Well, there’s 1352 different restaurants in Nashville,
And you can eat anything from a hominy grit to a Contac time pill.
Way too many people are thinking along these lines.
(Lyrics swiped from Blog d’Elisson.)