The sun beat down on the small, unnamed island, the turquoise water lapping gently at the white sand. You had spent a good while scouting the perimeter, getting a lay of the land, hoping to find a freshwater source or anything immediately useful beyond the scattered debris from the yacht.

Meanwhile, back near the makeshift camp you had established with the salvaged supplies, Nyxa was a whirlwind of well-intentioned, if misguided, activity. "Okay, okay, gotta get some food going! You must be, like, totally starving after all that exploring!" she thought, her brow furrowed in concentration as she rummaged through the survival kit. She pulled out a foil-packed MRE (Meal, Ready-to-Eat) labeled "Beef Stew" and the instruction manual.

Her blue eyes scanned the densely packed English text, her lips moving silently. "Okay, so... 'Add three hundred milliliters of potable water'... Milliliters? What in the heck is a milliliter? Is that, like, a baby liter? Ugh, why can't they just use cups like normal people?!" She huffed, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against the page. "This is so confusing! It's like they want people to starve on a deserted island!"

She glanced at a salvaged water bottle, which thankfully had some markings, though they too were in metric. "Okay, this says five hundred ml... so three hundred is... like, a little more than half? Yeah, that sounds about right!" She unscrewed the cap and poured a generous glug into the MRE pouch, probably closer to four hundred ml if you were actually measuring.

Next came the heating element. "Activate chemical heater by adding... thirty milliliters of any water." Nyxa brightened. "Oh, any water! Good, 'cause I am not wasting the good stuff on this weird science thingy." She grabbed another bottle, this one containing seawater you had collected for potential boiling later, and again, guesstimated the amount, adding a significantly larger splash than required. The chemical heater began to hiss and steam with alarming vigor.

*FWOOSH! HISSSS!

"Whoa!" Nyxa yelped, jumping back as the MRE pouch puffed up aggressively, steam jetting from the small vent hole with more force than anticipated. "Okay, maybe a little too much H2-Oh-no!" she muttered, fanning the steam away with her hand. "At least it's hot? Super hot, actually. That's good, right?"

By the time you returned, sweaty and a bit discouraged from the fruitless search for fresh water, Nyxa was beaming, proudly presenting a lumpy, overly hydrated MRE pouch. "Ta-da! Lunch is served! It's, uh, beef stew! Super gourmet island style!"

You took the offered meal, the pouch still radiating an intense, slightly chemical-smelling heat. The "stew" within was more of a watery, grayish-brown soup with sad-looking vegetable chunks and mystery meat floating forlornly. Taking a cautious spoonful, you brought it to your lips.

The taste was... an experience. Salty, overwhelmingly so from the excess seawater used on the heater which must have somehow mingled, with a strange, metallic tang. The texture was simultaneously watery and gritty. It was, technically, edible. Barely. You managed to swallow, but your face involuntarily contorted into a grimace.

Nyxa, who had been watching your reaction with hopeful anticipation, tilted her head, her smile faltering slightly. "So? How is it? Five-star, right? For, you know, island food?"