[BZZZT! Insufficient Funds. Transaction Failed.]
A notification box popped up.
"Insufficient funds?" Shane blinked. "I have to top it up? Or do I have to earn money inside this system?"
He patted down his pockets first... nothing.
He got up, went to the dresser, and started rummaging through the drawers. Finally, in the inside pocket of an old jacket, he found a wad of cash.
Shane counted it carefully. It came to exactly $63.20.
Suddenly, a fragment of memory rushed in:
Doing other kids' homework, passing cheat sheets during exams, collecting cash from a few different students afterward...
Right. Just like Lip in the original show, this money was "Shane Gallagher's" secret stash from doing other people's schoolwork and taking tests for them.
"Guess it doesn't matter what universe you're in," Shane chuckled dryly. "Knowledge... or at least knowing how to pass a test... still pays the bills."
He had hoped this world's Shane might have had a more exciting hustle, but this worked.
He held the cash up to the glowing interface in front of him.
[Detected Rechargeable Currency: $63.20. Recharge?]
"Yes!"
Shane confirmed it in his mind.
The bills in his hand vanished instantly. On the screen, his account balance updated to [$63.20].
"Well damn, that was fast..."
Shane hit the [BUY NOW] button again.
This time, the payment went through smoothly.
The "Order Successful" notification barely had time to fade before a cardboard box printed with pictures of "Classic Beef Noodles" materialized out of thin air. It dropped onto his bed with a solid thud.
Shane jumped back, startled by the sudden physical object. He thought there would be some kind of delivery time or a drop-off point.
He walked over and touched the edge of the box.
"Holy sht? It actually works?! Instant teleportation?! That is some next-level logistics."
He checked his balance. It had dropped from $63.20 to $61.21.
"Minus $1.99. Math checks out!"
Shane did a quick mental calculation, then ripped open the box. He pulled out a cup of noodles and inspected it closely.
The packaging was generic. No trademarks, no barcodes that would give away the timeline. Just a basic ingredient list and that eternal, unchanging picture of beef noodles.
No date stamps. That saves me a lot of trouble.
Ideally, this would keep people from asking too many questions.
A wave of relief washed over him.
In the chaotic, poverty-stricken, unpredictable South Side, this tacky little system was now his lifeline. At the very least, he wouldn't starve.
Before he could explore the system further or question the physics of it all, a noise came from the stairs.
It was Carl.
Carl poked his head down from the top of the stairs and yelled:
"Shane! Breakfast is ready!"
"Coming!"
Shane shouted back. He quickly shoved the conspicuous box of noodles under his bed, covering it with some random junk and dirty laundry.
At least... I won't go hungry for a while.
He thought about just going up empty-handed, but listening to the chaos upstairs, he felt a strange impulse. He grabbed a few cups of noodles from the box before heading up the creaky stairs.
---
As soon as he popped his head out of the basement door, the smell hit him.
A mix of toilet cleaner, oatmeal, and body odor.
The scene in front of him was even more vivid and... chaotic than he remembered from the show.
Fiona was standing at the sink, her back to him.
She was holding an almost-empty gallon of milk under the faucet.
Whoosh—
Tap water rushed into the jug. Once it looked full enough, Fiona gave it a vigorous shake. And just like that, a bottle of "diluted milk" was born.
Fiona turned around, marched to the table, and slammed the "milk" down.
"One glass per person! And Lip, get your stinking feet off the table!"
Lip, feet propped up on the edge of the table, nose buried in an old textbook, didn't even look up.
"Unless you can conjure up something edible instead of last night's leftover fries and expired oatmeal, the feet stay."
At the other end of the table, Ian was trying to scrape the last bit of jam onto a dry piece of toast.
He was digging so hard with the spoon that if the jar opening wasn't so small, he probably would've just shoved the bread inside to wipe it clean.
Carl wasn't nearly as well-behaved. He was holding a lighter, trying to set fire to a cereal bar shaped like a lucky charm, making explosion noises with his mouth.
"Boom! Die, scum!"
Debbie, on the other hand, was acting like a little logistics officer. She was trying to arrange the mismatched cups on the table, attempting to maintain some semblance of order while yelling at Carl.
"Carl! Stop it! Fiona, look at him!"
In the corner, Liam was babbling happily in his high chair, just glad to be part of the noise.
This was a Gallagher morning.
Chaotic, loud, and full of life.
"Shane! Sit down, you're gonna be late!"
Fiona spotted him at the top of the stairs immediately. She waved him over urgently, sliding a plate of unappetizing oatmeal and soggy fries toward an empty spot.
She addressed the table again:
"I'll buy real food after my shift this afternoon. This is all we have right now. If you don't want it, you can starve at school."
Shane walked over and placed the cups of noodles on a relatively clean patch of the table.
"What's that?"
Lip looked up from his book, his interest piqued by the foreign writing on the packaging.
The rest of the table looked over too.
"Food. Instant noodles."
Shane kept it brief. Muscle memory guided him to his usual seat, and he sat down.
"Noodles? Where'd you get 'em?"
Fiona picked up a cup, turning it over suspiciously. "What language is this? Thai? Vietnamese?"
"...Got 'em from a friend."
Shane gave a vague answer. It was the best he could come up with on the fly. "They taste pretty good. Fill you up."
"Okay. Looks like the Gallagher menu just got an update."
Fiona put the noodles down. The explanation was accepted immediately.
In the Gallagher house, where you got something didn't matter. If you could use it was the only thing that counted.
"Alright... thanks, Shane. We can make these for dinner tonight."
Fiona was already planning out the windfall.
"Hey! Why wait for dinner? I want one now!"
Carl dropped his "demolition project" and reached for a cup.
"No!"
"Sure."
Fiona said no. Shane said sure.
Fiona looked at Shane. He shrugged. "I've got more downstairs. We can have them for dinner too."
"Okay! Noodles for breakfast it is!"
Fiona didn't hesitate. She gladly abandoned the sad fries and expired oats—she didn't want to eat that crap either.
"Yeah! Noodles! x2"
Debbie and Carl cheered instantly. In this house, a change in menu was a cause for celebration.
Fiona turned to put the kettle on. The kitchen filled with the clanking of the kettle hitting the stove.
Lip and Ian leaned in closer to Shane.
Lip nudged Shane's shoulder with his book, lowering his voice.
"Hey, man. You really good? You were tweaking out down there."
Ian gave him a concerned look too.