This story shows where I like to be. In situations which are a clear result of human civilisation advances coming right to your door. Very often with a result like that shown below.
Soup a Priori
A certain unemployed mathematician from Afroasia worked out the Ligadul’s Law, based on which, and after considering a maximum number of variation, one could calculate the so-called near future (counted in days, or at the very most in weeks, from the date of calculation).
A certain unemployed inventor from Ośmiogród created the Futurobot – a device, which applied the Ligadul’s Law to the person in its closest vicinity.
“Listen! It worked!” Martyna chirped into the phone. “You know, I turned it on, entered all the data, and it said that Robi would come home drunk and start throwing the furniture out the window, so I hadn’t even bothered to clean.”
“So…” Bożena asked half-bored, because Robi, Martyna’s second husband didn’t interest her in the least bit. The wrong Robi.
“So, he came home, started screaming, and the place was like after a tornado. And I can tell you, my dear, it made me feel better. Would have been a different thing, if I had been cleaning all day, you know. This Futurobot is super. I can sell you one, cuz I got me several, for friends, you know.”
At first Bożena didn’t want one, and then she did. Right after she watched on the Kitchen Annex TV channel a repeat of the “Robi’s Appetizers” show.
Robi Appetizer. The country loved him. So sensitive and so sweet at the same time. Handsome. Appetizing. Just like a spring onion. It was a matter of honor for all self-respecting housewives and house husbands to prepare a Robi’s recipe for Friday night dinner or Saturday lunch. For Bożena, too. And she almost always succeeded. Except for the turkeyducky soup. It seemed so simple, but her soup wasn’t as clear as Robi’s, and besides that, it was inedible.
She bought a Futurobot and already after turning it on, she knew it was a good purchase. When she entered the target data (soup) and references (Robi Appetizer) the device spoke to her in that beloved voice of the Polish cuisine’s most famous:
“So, let’s get cooking, and chin up, everything will be great.”
The cooking went fabulously and she felt great. Like never before. And it went fast, too. In comparison to the seven hours of inputting the data, the two hours spent stirring over a small flame went by in the blink of an eye. It had to turn out great – Franek invited his friends from the embassy over for dinner and they wanted to try something truly Polish.
After two hours, the Futurobot breathed a sigh of relief and said tenderly:
“My dear, time to taste it!”
She tasted and almost vomited. Again, inedible, or even worse. She didn’t understand how that could have happened, because according to the development of the situation, the robot adjusted and introduced new ingredients, for example, she had to add another carrot and take out two grains of allspice.
“How did this happen?” Bożena asked reproachfully.
The robot was silent.
“C’mon, tell me what happened with you.”
“I trusted you, and now nothing? How could you?”
“Not even ‘I’m sorry’?”
Instead of “I’m sorry” the Futurobot printed out the following message:
***Soup a priori failure confirmed***
Too much direct sunlight – 1%
Meat too soft – 7%
Water too hard – 9%
Other factors – 83%