While I'm waiting

So my book is being edited, a process that takes weeks, and I'm bored... so as I was driving across Ohio I realized a hilarious idea for a serial story involving a toaster.  This is a scifi story for Vella that isn't impacting my book 6 writing.  I'll throw up a few chapters of it and see how they do while I get ready to work on Book 7.  

The story of Toastbot

“What do you mean you don’t have an A2 chip with you?” asked Kevin, staring daggers at his companion.

“I’m sorry.  I checked with logistics, but they are all out of the A2’s,” replied Michael, wilting under the older man’s gaze.

“That’s just great.  The officers’ breakfast bot is offline.  We need to install a new A2 chip or it's going to stay offline,” replied Kevin, groaning.  The Toastbot was a simple robot, as such things went.  He had been designed to provide a healthy breakfast to anyone seated at the officers’ mess table.  Of course, he had been in use for over a decade and had been modified by every crew chief.  Now, he could do a bit of everything, but his primary function was breakfast.

Initially, the bot had resembled a toaster.  Over the years, as various upgrades had been performed, his appearance changed.  Everything from an egg cooker to a ketchup dispenser had been added.  Kevin’s own addition had been a laser slicer that provided optimal bread width every time.  One was always assured of a perfect piece of toast.  The bot now resembled a small battle robot, if one was intent on battling breakfast.

Toastbot, or Toasty, had been the galley’s mascot since before Kevin was assigned to the Brightwind.  The petty officer first class had been at the beginning of his last tour when he’d boarded the Brightwind and met the bot.  The little machine had been nothing but reliable until recently.  No one could figure out what had caused the bot to start burning through A2 chips over the last few weeks.

“You screwed up the programming when you added the laser slicer,” said Michael.

“The laser slicer is awesome,” replied Kevin.  “The admiral loves it.”

Michael glared at him for a long moment.  Sighing, he responded, “Yes, it's cool.  However, we need to come up with a different plan that doesn’t include installing A2 chips every time the admiral wants her toast perfectly toasted.

Kevin nodded.  That made perfect sense.  The A2 was a solid chip, designed for low-end AI systems like Toastbot.  That’s why the Federal Republican Democratic Alliance used them for all sorts of things, from missiles to toasters.  Well, toaster robots.

“Seeing as the admiral will be here in about fifteen minutes and is particular about her bagels, I think we have a problem,” said Kevin.

Michael sighed.  They would definitely have a problem.  People who ruined the admiral’s breakfast tended to suffer bad fates.

“Wait, don’t Toastbot 9000’s use the old Socket 47 for processor mounting?” asked Michael, a sudden gleam in his eye.  When Kevin just looked at him curiously, Michael continued, “Which has the same pinout as the Socket 332?”

“Yes, those sockets are the same as the ship’s main computer sockets,” answered Kevin, realization slowly dawning on him.  “You can’t be serious?  That’s a learning chip!”

“The A19 has the same pinout.  As long as we use the adapter kit, it can be used in place of an A2,” responded Michael.  “We can use the one we were planning to install in the core of the ship later today.  It can certainly handle one breakfast.  Then, boom, we install it in the main computer after lunch.”

“An A19 costs close to a billion dollars!  We are not installing an evolving, learning, neural processor chip into a toaster!” yelled Kevin.  “If the admiral figures out we did this, she is going to kill us.”

“Do you have an A2 chip?  No.  Do you want to tell the admiral her toast isn't going to be perfect?  I’m guessing that answer is also no.”

Kevin stared at Michael for a long moment.  Turning away, he sighed.  “We have to be smart about the way we do this.”

“Smart left the airlock when we ran out of A2 chips before we even finished upgrading all the missile guidance systems,” replied Michael.

“I’m not kidding,” said Kevin, removing the faulty A2 chip and its adapter.  Placing the A19 into its Socket 332 adapter, he continued, “You always hear of an AI going rogue and trying to conquer the galaxy.”

Michael rolled his eyes, as the toastbot came online.  The little bot sat there for a second, his almighty processor powering on.  Then, the A19 instituted its power save mode.  After all, it only needed a fraction of its capacity to serve toast.   “Only in badly written science fiction stories.  Look, if you are so worried, we can just issue a primary directive.”

Kevin stared directly into the toastbot’s optic sensors.  “Toastbot, you will provide the admiral with a top quality breakfast.”

The little robot beeped.  That was all it was programmed to do.

“Happy?” asked Michael.  “It will always default to its primary command.  Do you want me to disable the wireless on the device so that it cannot take over the ship?”

Kevin glared at him.

“Toastbot, do not use your wireless antenna,” said Michael, flipping the unit out of maintenance mode and back into normal mode.  Rolling his eyes, Michael also opened up the access panel and detached the wire to Toasty’s antenna.  “Happy?”

“Not really.  If something happens to the ship, the toastbot will be off the network.  He won’t know what to do,” said Kevin.

“He’s a toaster.  Do you think that really matters?” asked Michael.

“He’s sitting in the officers’ mess.  He might overhear something important,” stated Kevin.  “It might be in one of his sensory logs.”

“For the love of…Do you think the ship is going to get attacked between breakfast and when we get back here to fix the robot properly?” asked Michael.

“It could happen,” replied Kevin morosely.

“Look, he can accept verbal commands from the officers, and we both know he doesn’t use the network to fix breakfast,” said Michael, tapping his watch.  “When we come back to replace the processor, I’ll reconnect the antenna.  Everything will be fine.”

The steward strolled into the room, checking to make sure everything was in order before the admiral arrived.  His look of disapproval toward the two maintenance techs was enough to peel paint, so they both quickly decided to be elsewhere.  The mess hall would be empty in less than an hour.  Then, they could resolve their latest problem.