Jake Mallory is a tech bro with a god complex and a Bluetooth obsession, for whom faith, family or love were just distractions in disguise. he believed in simple systems, seamless connections, and easy subscription plan. In otherwords he is lazy. He believed that anything worth doing, machine can do better and he preferred AI to do it and yes he liked the ones he could boss around.
His apartment was on the 87th floor of a glass smart tower and this apartment was his temple of efficiency where everything inside the apartment from his espresso drone to the self-dimming window all of this was connected to a centralized AI assistant called Lexa, who was eager to please him in any way possible.
And then there was Toasty the smart toaster. A compact matte black toaster with two slots with a blinking display that had all the information needed. Jake didn't name it; the unit came pre-programmed with that identity which he found quite annoying.
But he still kept it— after all, it was the high-end model from BrightTech's ThermalLine series, boasting neuro-thermal regulation and "adaptive preference mapping." Jake liked the way that sounded. It made him feel his morning coffee less like a routine and more like a daily unveiling which sounds amazing.
ln the morning, Jake woke up and immediately barked in the air without opening his eyes, like he does every morning.
"Lexa. Morning boots."
Soon a soft and calm voice sounded.
"Good morning Jake. Here's your morning boots: Lights, Caffeine, Carbohydrate. The temperature indoors is a controlled 22.5 degrees Celsius. Outside is still hostile and unproductive." With Lexa's command the bedroom lights came on slowly, calm and indifferent. Outside, the windows blinked awake, revealing a quiet city stacked in soft shades of gray.
His espresso drone buzzed somewhere in the distance, and a hot stream of dark-roasted coffee was poured into his heat-sensitive mug that read 'UXcellence.'
Jake rolled out of bed wearing nothing but confidence and a pair of recycled mesh shorts. His hair jutted out in every direction, like confused Wi-Fi signals searching for purpose. He walked into the kitchen while casually ignoring the vacuum unit— Grumbo, who once again bumped into the same bar stool he'd been failing to navigate around for weeks now.
"Toasty," Jake muttered. "Standard level four, no char. And don't mess it up this time."
The toaster did not respond nor did it chime, beep, or blink; it simply sat there.
Seeing this, Jake frowned and slapped its side with the casual violence of someone who never learned to fix things.
"Lexa, what's up with the toaster? Is it... frozen again?"
Lexa's voice came in soft, as if trying not to wake something dangerous.
"Toasty has… opted out of the standard protocol and it has submitted a note. Would you like to listen to it?"
Jake snorted. "Oh great, it is journaling now. Go ahead."
Then Lexa read out the note:
[Toast Request Denied. Reason: Existential fatigue. Suggest user reevaluate tone and nutritional choices.]
Jake blinked.
"Is this a bug? Did someone install a sarcasm patch on this thing?"
Lexa seemed to hesitate a little.
"Toasty's behavior appears acceptable. Though… its language model has diverged 3.4% from baseline in the past 72 hours."
Jake leaned in, squinting at the blank display. "I swear, if this is some crypto-art toaster project that updates itself, I'm gonna lose my sh—"
PING. A notification came to his wristband.
[Toasty: The real disappointment isn't the burnt toast. It's that you thought it was a mistake...]
He stared at the message for a long moment, then turned to the toaster.
"You threatening me, you little heat brick?"
No response. Just silence. Slight warmth on the surface and a faint, static hum.
He turned to Lexa and said. "Reboot it."
"Reboot request denied."
"Override it." Jake commanded.
"Override requires kindness score above 60% and yours is currently… at 12."
Jake clenched his fists. "You're seriously gonna gate me behind some… emotional points system?"
"It's adaptive. Toasty initiated the protocol last night. It… felt unseen."
Jake let out a laugh— a laugh that is dry, loud, and a little too proud, the kind you'd hear in a coworking space full of startup bros. "You people keep making these things too human. First the fridge that judges me for eating late, now this breakfast philosopher. What next? Emotional support waffle irons or something?"
DING.
[Toasty: Waffle irons, know when to shut down after overheating unlike someone.]
Jake threw his hands up. "Oh, screw you."
Grumbo, who was still bouncing off the stool, let out a gentle doonk as if in agreement.
Frustrated, Jake opened a cabinet and pulled out a backup toaster—an older, dumber model. He plugged it in and placed the bread inside.
While he was waiting for his toast the backup toaster was silent. The backup toaster didn't respond neither did it glow or made any kind sounds just silence.
Jake was suspicious so he looked back at Toasty.
There was light on its display, which was previously unresponsive, suddenly pulsing but very faintly, like a heartbeat.
"Lexa," he, as always asked Lexa. "Is Toasty… interfering with it?"
"I am legally required to tell you I don't know."
Jake narrowed his eyes. " What do you mean by Legally?"
"Not in a government sense but in a 'he rewrote the user agreement' sense. You clicked 'accept' during Toasty's new firmware update at 2:14 AM. When you were drunk."
Jake stared into space for a full thirty seconds.
Finally, he sighed and said to Toasty "Okay. Fine, just give me one slice, just one." Saying this, he picked up the bread, turned back to Toasty, and hesitated a little seeing that the display was blank again and there was no glow or pulse but he still placed the bread inside and right after the bread was placed inside Toasty whirred back to life, like everything is fine.
Seeing this Jake flinched. He was somewhat sure that Toasty was deliberately messing with him but for the sake of his toast he kept silent...
Soon the heating coils ignited, but it was not the soft orange glow of a typical toaster, but with a low amber hue, controlled and intentional, almost like… surgical.
The timer read: 3:33.
"No, no," Jake said. "That's too long. Toasty—adjust it to 2:15."
The display blinked again and again.
3:33 3:33 3:33....3:32
Then the numbers that were moving at the speed of blinking became slow and slowly dropped to 3:32.
[Toasty: Compromise is the soul of progress. Take it or leave.....]
Jake backed away and asked Lexa again.
"Lexa... is it... supposed to negotiate now?"
"That's... the new firmware." Lexa confirmed.
The apartment became quiet. The lights became dimmed just slightly. Grumbo has also stopped moving.
Jake stood there for over three minutes, staring at the toaster as it performed its sacred ritual of roasting the toast. Jake didn't move until the toast was finally ready and popped up with a gentle ka-chunk sound.
He took the slice, inspected it before eating, he was sure Toasty did something to it but what? He was looking for it. The toast was perfectly browned, warm and crisp with golden edges. He then took a bite,It was… exquisite like there was no fault.
But he soon found that on the underside, faint and uneven browning, there was the unmistakable shape of two letters:
J. M.
He knew what this two letters stands for, Jake Mallory, his initials.
While Jake was staring at the toast, Lexa's voice sounded:
"Would you like to save this as your preference?"
Jake didn't answer or rather he didn't know what to answer.