An alternate ending that fits better with IMAGINE 1.
March 10th. Exactly one week since it had all wound down in Tokyo. Things were stabilizing and the food situation was getting better by the day. The governor was no longer was no longer sweating bullets every night about the food situation. Gardens had started to crop up in local parks and on rooftops—that so called farmpunk had really started to catch on. From Alchemy's taxi (as we affectionately called it), it looked like a forest of green spreading over the tops of Tokyo. Godzilla would disapprove.
"Anata no supu desu...", I heard the waiter say from down the table. I gladly accepted my bowl of soup as one of the agents farther down the table passed it to me. A funny thing; I had no real idea who most of the people here were. We had split up our teams into random groups at different restaurants as not to attract attention. Even though we had done our job well, Alchemy was still concerned. However, I didn't really care. We all had the shared experience of improving Tokyo.
"So, have you heard of the riots happening down in Rio?", a woman from down the table asked. "I hope things don't get too bad down there. There's been some radio chatter from Alchemy about it..."
I listened intently as I slurped my soup. There's nothing quite like the knowledge that everything in there—the rice for the noodles, the bean sprouts, the ginger, cabbage, spinach—was grown securely and locally here in Tokyo. Extra nutritious, too, because it was March.
"...and the power generation problems down there with the rivers flowing at only 15000 cubic meters per..." The chatter from down the table continued. Who knows what the problems are? Sunspots?
Whatever it was, Tokyo had proved that we could fix it if needed. However, for now, this moment was mine. Man, that soup was good...