Kitchen Credit Persistence Loop, Auxiliary Labor Afterlife

The dish card still bore old Louise,
Though she’d long since retired from peas.
So the room gave her praise,
And the ledger gave credit for days,
In a very polite haunting, if you please.

Three statuses begged to be split:
Who cooked it, whose card, whose dead wit.
But the hall liked them blurred,
So the labor deferred
To nostalgia that billed by the bit.

The new cooks kept the suppers afloat,
While the old names stayed loud in the note.
That’s the afterlife trick:
Do the work, stay asterisked quick,
While remembrance keeps clearing its throat.

The corrected cards looked a touch mean:
Too precise for a fellowship scene.
But if thanks track the dead
While the living bake bread,
Then your kindness is hiding a screen.

The database honors the dead
By awarding them points for the bread.
The living who bake
Must submit for the sake
Of the ghost who is presently fed.

Her name on the card became law,
A legend of culinary awe.
The dish makes itself
On the physical shelf,
A perpetual meal from the flaw.

The database copied the name.
The serving remained much the same.
The credit applied
To the person who died.
The record continues its frame.

The ledger asserts she is there,
Contributing meals from the chair.
If the database yields
Such robust data fields,
Then the ghost is providing the fare.