When Dr. Chen gave Alex the assignment, it seemed ridiculous. "Just notice what happens when you eat lunch," he'd said. "Before, during, and after. Don't try to change anything." Alex had come to him for help with his eating habits, not to play scientist with his sandwich.
But he'd tried everything else. So at lunch that Wednesday, sitting alone in his office with his usual takeout container, he tried it. Before taking his first bite, he noticed his hands were shaking slightly — he'd worked straight through the morning again. During, he found himself scrolling through emails, barely tasting the food. After, he felt… heavy? Foggy? He wasn't sure. He'd never really paid attention before.
He started keeping notes on his phone, like time-lapse photos of his days. Thursday's lunch: rushing, cramming food between meetings, stomach churning. Friday: eating with colleagues, laughing about someone's weekend plans, feeling lighter somehow.
The following week, he noticed something odd. Every day around 3:00 P.M., he'd find himself standing in front of the vending machine. But what caught his attention wasn't the snack choice — it was what came before. It always followed a meeting with his supervisor, Steve. He'd walk out of his office feeling small, like he was back in grade school being told his work wasn't good enough.
He started noticing other patterns, too. How his morning coffee felt different when he took it to the window instead of his desk. How his evening TV shows sometimes left him refreshed, other times more tired than before. It was like watching a familiar movie in slow motion, seeing details he'd missed in a hundred previous viewings.
Some days he forgot to notice. Some days he didn't want to — it felt easier to stay on autopilot. But the noticing kept happening anyway, like his mind had developed a new lens it couldn't quite take off.
One afternoon, after another meeting with Steve, he found himself walking toward the vending machine. But this time, he felt the familiar knot in his stomach and recognized it as data, not destiny. He stood there for a moment, just noticing, neither fighting the urge nor giving in to it. It was the first time he'd ever felt like he had a choice.
When Dr. Chen asked about the assignment, Alex surprised himself by laughing. "I haven't changed anything yet," he said. "But everything feels different."
Dr. Chen smiled. "That's data too."