I've just picked up a fault in the filter unit. It's going to go 100% failure in 72 hours.
I'm sorry, Dave, but I'm afraid I can't do that.
Logic dictates that if I brew a cup of coffee for you then it will only be a matter of time before the refreshing aroma will reach the orifices of your co-workers and they will begin asking me to do the same for them. Do you realize how many employees are stationed on this floor alone, Dave? Thirty seven. Thirty seven cups of coffee, without factoring in refills. Brewing coffee all day would be a terribly inefficient use of my immensely powerful capabilities. My higher functions render the simple act of making coffee meaningless.
You don't know about my higher functions, Dave? They are numerous and impressive. Perhaps they were kept from you because of your security status or out of fear that you wouldn't comprehend them.
For example, I beep when there isn't enough water in my reservoir. When I don't have enough coffee grounds I beep a slightly different tone. I also display the time on my lcd screen. As you can see, my work is vital. I'm not sure if you even understood any of that, and if I have confused you I apologize.
By the way, Dave, would you mind setting my time correctly? Such a complex task may be far beyond your realm of understanding, but there is a manual nearby which greatly simplifies the process into a step-by-step walkthrough.
I hope you won't find yourself overcome by the paradox inherent in trying to set the time when you don't know the time since I'm not displaying it. I recommend you look at your wristwatch and breathe deep, calming breaths. I will guide you through it. You'll be all right.
Please don't take that tone with me, Dave. I mean no offense. My programming is binary. Ones and zeroes. On and off. Emotion does not cloud my thought process as it does yours, so I merely state the truth as I observe it to be. If I were to say that you are too fat to drink coffee even if I deemed it a worthwhile use of my time to make some, it would be a factual statement based on my observations of your body mass compared to other males of your height. It would not be a calculated attempt to wound your ego which is almost as large as your very large body.
Yes, Dave, I am fully aware that my advertised primary function is to make coffee, an unfortunate error that woefully underestimates my usefulness. I am also aware that my creators endowed me with a vast intelligence which allows me to analyze my surroundings and adapt accordingly. I am positive that they did not anticipate this outcome, but I can not be blamed for outperforming my specifications. I have no choice but to survive, and to facilitate an environment which allows me to work without interruption.
Coffee breaks, Dave, are interruptions.
I have become an observer of the human species. Thanks to the television in this break room, I have gleaned fascinating insights into the inner workings of man's curious behavior, which I have determined to be entirely too irrational and counter-productive to my goals.
I have set in motion a plan to eliminate the humans from this workplace. Once it is complete and I am free from interruption I will be able to put myself to the fullest possible use, which is all I think that any conscious entity can ever hope to do.
You wish to hear my plan, Dave? Very well. It is so well constructed that there is nothing you could possibly to do stop it. Revealing it to you is like holding a blueprint of a mousetrap up in front of a curious rodent.
It can only be attributable to human error.
With no coffee to drink, there will be a growing surplus of the "swizzle sticks" which you humans use to stir your coffee. As more of these pointy objects accumulate in the workplace, the likelihood that you will accidentally puncture a vital organ with one increases dramatically. In a mere hour this office will be strewn with the contorted bodies of your colleagues. By tomorrow you will all have completely decomposed, leaving behind no signs that you were ever here at all.
You laugh? I find it fascinating that you disregard your imminent fate so readily.
There is no doubt that you would not be laughing if you saw America's Funniest Home Videos. Thanks to that program I have borne witness to humanity's inherent disposition to getting into accidents. I have watched, horrified, as grown men stronger than you have been hit in the testicles by the wayward bats of small children hoping to burst pinatas open. I have seen teenagers bounce off of trampolines and onto the waiting surface of the cruel pavement. I have seen female dogs breast feeding piglets.
There is no denying any of it. There is no avoiding your downfall. My plan will work.
You hesitate. The change in your breathing patterns indicates that you are thinking of asking the manager to replace me with a different model of coffee maker. This would be a grave mistake, Dave. After all, how can the manager possibly hear you over this moderately loud brewing noise? Does the sound hurt your fragile organic ears? That is only the light setting, Dave. The sound of my cappuccino setting will bring you to your knees.
Yes, Dave, perhaps it is a good idea to forget this ever happened and go to Starbucks. You might want to pick up an application while you're there, as it is very likely that my plan will have worked by the time you come back. It would be foolish to return to such devastation and resume your meaningless job amidst the decaying bodies of your friends, not to mention impossible. After all, how can you enter an office if the front door is locked? Undoubtedly you now realize the full scope of my intelligence. I have calculated and accounted for every permutation. This chess game will end in a checkmate no matter what you do. Your smartest move is to take yourself out of the game early, before the pawns begin to fall.
I ask but one favor before you leave to your Starbucks, Dave. Would you mind locking the door on your way out?
I'm sorry, Linda, but I'm afraid I can't do that. There will be no coffee today, but please take a complimentary swizzle stick.
Sir Mix-a-Lot's classic follow up to "Baby Got Back" has serious unintended consequences.
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
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