[ WP ] After brushing your teeth in the morning you go downstairs to fry an egg , but when you try the frying pan buzzes at you and text appears reading , `` level 18 cooking required to use object '' .

The cast iron pan vibrated on the stovetop with a magnetized hum, resisting Charlene's grip. `` Damn it!'' she said, and grabbed at it again, and it dragged back down against her arm. She gripped it tight with two hands and the whole pan upturned to the floor and spun to rest with a loud clang. *Level 18 cooking required* read the words, bright and flashing. 
 
 `` I have cooked!'' Charlene yelled at the pan, clutching her bathrobe closed. `` I have cooked eggs for decades, I have cooked roasts, I have cooked - I have cooked souffles, you damn pan!'' She crouched down, her knees pressing against the linoleum in her thin pajama bottoms, and scraped her fingers around the edges of the pan. It had turned upside-down, and it was impossible to find leverage. *Level 18* it repeated. *Level 18*. `` I am - I have cooked for three boys and two girls, and I - Gah!'' she said, and waved a chipped fingernail. `` I am more than level 18!'' she said, and stood. The pan regarded her implacably, a single stern black eye. 
 
 `` Fine!'' Charlene said, and marched to the refrigerator. `` Fine then, fine then!'' She yanked out the bread and stuffed slices into the toaster and tried to push the lever down. *Level 4 required* it said, and refused to move. `` Toast!'' gasped Charlene. `` No! Oh no you do n't! I know I'm at least level 4!'' The microwave's buttons were like painted-on markings underneath her fingers. *Level 10 required* it said. `` God!'' she said. The knives in their chopping block were a level 15. Charlene began ransacking the cupboards, emptying the fridge. Milk, oatmeal, canned tuna, bran cereal, prunes, cocoa mix, tea bags, tomatoes. The pots and pans were useless, the stove refused to turn on, blinking *level 16* at her. The can opener hissed at her and blinked *level 12*. In desperation she grabbed a bowl and held in under the sink, listening to the water rush in. She threw in the tea bags, the cocoa mix, the oatmeal, and sloshed it together with a spoon. `` I know how to cook!'' she yelled. `` I've been cooking all my life! I know how to cook!'' 
 
 `` Mom?'' a voice said, and she looked up to see a strange man standing in her kitchen in a wifebeater and pajama bottoms, hair running down his forearms. He was - she blinked. He looked familiar. 
 
 `` Who are you?'' she said cautiously, pointing the dripping spoon at him. 
 
 `` Mom,'' he said, and stepped forward. `` It's me. Darryl. I'm your son.'' 
 
 `` Darryl,'' she said, and slumped backwards against the counter. `` I was - I wanted to cook breakfast for you.'' She looked helplessly around the kitchen. `` Before you went to school.'' 
 
 `` It's three in the morning, mom,'' he said. `` And I have n't gone to school in over thirty years.'' 
 
 `` Have n't you?'' Charlene muttered, and looked around at the overturned pan, the spilled oatmeal, the cabinet doors hanging open. `` I just - I just came down here to cook, and the pan, the pan would n't let me, it said I had to be level - I do n't know, level something or another, and you know I can cook, Darryl, I've cooked for you and your brothers and sisters and your father, I've been cooking all my life...'' 
 
 `` Of course,'' Darryl said, and put his arm around her, gently prising the spoon out of her grip. `` But I can cook just find on my own, mom. C'mon. C'mon. Let's get you back to bed, okay?'' 
 
 `` I can cook,'' Charlene whispered, as he led her back to the stairs. `` Someone changed the levels, Darryl. I could cook. If they've just give me the chance.'' 
 
 `` You do n't have to anymore,'' Darryl said, his body massive next to hers. She leaned wearily against him. `` C'mon mom. Let's get you back upstairs and into bed. I'll take care of you. I'll cook something for you, how about that?'' 
 
 As he led her out, Darryl tapped some buttons on the wall and reset the kitchen, pots and pans and groceries returning to their proper places. *Level 4 required* flashed a message across the kitchen door, an invisible wall shimmering into place.
