The rain hammered against the windshield as Erik pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of a late-night **Max Burgers** restaurant. It was almost midnight.
The glowing sign flickered.
**OPEN 24 HOURS**
His stomach growled.
Inside, the restaurant was strangely quiet. No music. No conversations. Only the soft hiss of fryers somewhere behind the counter.
A young cashier smiled without blinking.
"What can I get you?"
"A Frisco meal."
The cashier's smile widened.
"Excellent choice."
---
The burger tasted...different.
It wasn't bad.
In fact, it was the best burger Erik had ever eaten.
Rich.
Tender.
Almost sweet.
He devoured every bite.
As he left, he noticed an old man sitting alone in the corner.
The man whispered as Erik walked past.
"Don't come back."
Erik laughed nervously.
"What?"
The old man's eyes filled with tears.
"They're running out."
---
Weeks passed.
Erik couldn't stop thinking about that burger.
Nothing else tasted right anymore.
He returned.
Again.
Again.
Soon the staff recognized him.
"The usual?"
Every time he visited, there seemed to be fewer customers.
But the employees never changed.
Always smiling.
Always watching.
---
One night, Erik forgot his phone inside.
When he returned, the dining room was empty.
The kitchen door stood open.
He heard voices.
"...another regular."
"...good marbling."
"...should keep the flavor consistent."
Curious, he stepped closer.
Then he saw it.
A conveyor belt disappearing into a refrigerated room.
Not boxes.
Not beef.
People.
Some unconscious.
Some awake.
All wearing plastic wristbands labeled:
**LOYAL CUSTOMER**
Erik stumbled backward.
A hand grabbed his shoulder.
The smiling cashier.
"I was wondering when you'd look."
Erik tried to run.
The doors wouldn't open.
Every employee now stood between him and the exit.
Smiling.
---
The manager emerged from the kitchen wearing a spotless white apron.
"You know why our burgers taste different?"
Erik couldn't speak.
The manager sighed.
"People always ask about our secret seasoning."
He leaned close.
"It isn't seasoning."
---
The refrigerated room stretched far underground.
Rows of sleeping people lay inside glass pods.
Some still wore work uniforms.
Others wore school clothes.
One pod held the old man from weeks earlier.
His eyes opened.
He mouthed two words.
**Too late.**
---
Erik woke strapped to a stainless-steel table.
The manager stood nearby holding a clipboard.
"Don't worry."
"We only use the best parts."
"We waste nothing."
The employees nodded proudly.
"Our customers deserve quality."
---
Months later, another hungry traveler stopped at the same roadside Max late at night.
The cheerful cashier smiled.
"What can I get you?"
"The Frisco meal."
"Excellent choice."
As the traveler took the first bite, they paused.
"This is incredible."
The cashier smiled a little wider.
"We know."
Outside, the **OPEN 24 HOURS** sign flickered once.
Far below the restaurant, another glass pod slowly hissed shut.