Greg slammed the espresso button, summoning a hiss of steam and regret. The machine’s gasket had been leaking since 2019, but today it erupted like a geothermal vent, spraying scalding coffee into the face of the man in the tinfoil hat.
“Triple-shot caramel macchiato with extra foam and a side of existential dread,” the customer intoned, wiping espresso from his eye. His reflection in the machine’s stainless steel body looked back with a twitch.
Greg froze. The gasket had never spoken. “Uh… that’ll be $8.95?”
The man in the tinfoil hat nodded. “Negative. I require a 360-degree audit of your bean sourcing practices.”
Before Greg could explain that the beans were purchased from a guy who sold them out of a van near the train tracks, the machine sputtered and ejected a single black coffee. It landed in the customer’s tinfoil hat, which immediately began emitting a low hum.
“Error: Overload,” the hat said. “Please recompile.”
Greg stared. The customer removed the hat, revealing a head of perfectly coiffed hair. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I’m just a prototype. My developer’s at lunch. But hey—” He handed Greg a business card printed with a QR code that read “FREE BEAN SAMPLES.”
The machine hissed again, this time producing a foam heart that floated to the floor and whispered, “You are not alone.”
Greg dropped the card. It bounced once, then exploded into confetti. The customer was gone. The machine hummed a lullaby. And somewhere, a van hissed its final steam.
