It must have been five to six years ago. I was lunching with a table of Hong Kong friends in the mainland. Someone brought up the subject of fake eggs when supposedly real ones, suspiciously scrambled beyond recognition, were being served. To my surprise, nearly everyone had something to add to the story. Fake eggs were evidently more common than I had thought.
“Has anyone seen one?” I enquired, tortured by curiosity.
“Oh yes, many have!” one said, sure as eggs were not eggs, though she had not seen one personally.
“My auntie has! There’re dozens on YouTube! Everyone trusts my auntie.”
“My second cousin’s wife’s father-in-law swallowed one, soft boiled, and died three months later.”
“Your second cousin’s father?” Dumbfounded, I closed my eyes and drew exfoliating breaths of filtered indoor air to safeguard my own version of reality. I had learnt that trick from a guru on YouTube, long before it existed.
Visions started coming to me, in rainbow coloured slides, like Powerpoint.
