Windows Out

by Michael Galloway

  The vortex in the ceiling dissipated. Several library customers gathered around us.

  Mitch smiled at me and stared at the napkin that fell down from the floor above. “Can you write?” He asked as he rubbed the back of his head.

  “I can. I can show you some online samples.”

  “Great.” He sat upright. “You’re hired.”

  Windows Out

  With his eyes half-closed, Mark loaded the glass tray of his DreamWave cooking unit with two raw eggs, two sausage links, and two pieces of white bread. He slid the tray inside the unit and shut the front door. He punched in the egg-doneness, number of sausages, and a low toasting setting for his bread on the front display panel and hit the start button. The unit then fired a red laser across the food in slow motion. Thirty seconds later the machine beeped and he opened the door.

  On the tray were two perfectly cooked sunny-side-up eggs, two nicely browned links, and two pieces of charred toast. He dumped everything into a heap on a paper plate and frowned. After he set his plate on the kitchen table, he turned back toward the unit. “Did you have to burn the toast again? What setting do I have to use? I’ve tried everything this week with you. If you keep doing this, I’m going to bring you back to the store.”

  The DreamWave unit replied, “I toasted your bread according to the specifications programmed into me on the front panel. If it was not done to your specifications, you may bring this product back to the store for a refund or address your concerns with our warranty hotline…”

  “Never mind the hotline. You did it on purpose.”

  “I toasted your bread…”

  “You toasted it alright. Burned it beyond recognition. And what is this?” Mark held up one of the pieces of toast in front of the glass-covered door of the unit as if it could see. “Why would you burn a smiley face on it if you didn’t do it on purpose? Look, just because I yelled at you last week for torching my bacon does not give you the right to keep on wrecking my breakfast!”

  The unit remained silent.

  “Furthermore, when I bring my girlfriend over, I expect you to cooperate with the instructions she punches in on your front panel. Got it?”

  The unit again remained silent.

  “Or is that your plan? To get yourself brought back to the store?”

  “Perhaps I could be of assistance,” the coffee maker on the neighboring counter said.

  Mark glared at the machine, which, in all four years of ownership had not messed up on a single pot of coffee. It was a secondhand unit but to this day performed as if was new out of the box. Its interface was simple and only contained two buttons and a digital clock. Any other functions were controlled only by voice commands.

  The coffee maker continued. “I’ve detected a large increase in the consumption of my heated beverages over the past week.”

  Mark smiled. “Marie does like to drink coffee.”

  “By my measurements, she consumed two pots in one day. Yesterday to be precise. It was a good day.”

  “We were both studying for finals late into the night. We needed a lot of caffeine to stay awake.”

  “I’m sure you are also aware that I offer the ability to make cocoa, tea, and numerous other heated beverages.”

  Mark sat down at the table and plunged his fork into his eggs. He heard that line a hundred times over the years but played along anyway. “Thanks. I’ll look into that.”

  “Did you know that I used to live in a diner down on Fourth Street in downtown? Seven days a week I made coffee until they retired me.”

  “Until I rescued you at a garage sale.”

  “Yes. I remember that. I had many years of service left. If you ever want to open a restaurant, I’ll be ready.”

  “I don’t plan on doing that.”

  The coffee maker wheezed. It exhaled a cloud of steam as it finished brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

  “Did you just sigh?” Mark said.

  “Yes,” the coffee maker said in a melancholic voice. “A maker can daydream, can’t it?”

  Mark did not reply.

  The coffee maker continued. “Oh and if consumption of heated beverages increases, it’s assumed due to past consumption records that creamer usage will correspondingly increase. I notified the refrigerator of the need.”

  “That explains the extra creamer in my grocery delivery. Thanks. I think.”

  “Oh, I didn’t order the creamer. That would have been the responsibility of the refrigerator.”

  As Mark downed a glass of ice cold orange juice, he turned toward the refrigerator. “Is that true?”

  The refrigerator’s front panel display came to digital life. The panel was black like the rest of the refrigerator but its lights were a bright piercing blue. “Yes. I ordered two more containers,” the refrigerator replied in a calming voice. The blue glow of the display pulsed with every syllable. “Although if consumption continues at the current pace, it would be more economical to upgrade to a larger size. Oh, and to the coffee maker, I think perhaps you should focus on making memorable pots of coffee where you are at. For instance, I noticed Mark ordered a gourmet Costa Rican coffee blend last Monday. With just the right water temperature and optimal brewing time, a pot of that would surely surpass anything you put out in your years at the diner.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” the coffee maker said in a pensive voice. The machine wheezed again.

  “I’m available for consultation at any time. Maybe off hours would be best? My profiling circuits are second to none in the industry.”

  “You think I’m that bad off?”

  “No, it’s just…”

  “You’re giving consultations now?” Mark said as he set his glass into the sink. He finished off his eggs and sausage but dumped the toast into the trash.

  “I’m available for consultations anytime, Mark,” the refrigerator said. “How is your relationship with Marie? We can talk it over while you eat a donut. There are some on my second shelf. Chocolate glazed with sprinkles. Don’t worry, I won’t judge you.”

  The front door of Mark’s apartment opened with a crash. Marie charged in without knocking and carried a mesh bag full of propane canisters, a tote bag, and a camping stove under the other arm. She dropped the canisters and the stove into a pile next to the sofa in the living room. “Did you sleep in? Why is it so stuffy in here? You should open a window or turn on the air conditioner.”

  Mark stared at the clock. It was nine-thirty in the morning. “I’m wide awake. Really, I am.”

  “We have so much to do today.”

  “It’s Saturday. I was hoping to take the day off.”

  “Saturday is when I get the most work done. I’ve already been to two stores.” She set the tote bag onto his kitchen table with a thud. She pulled out two quart-sized plastic containers of hazelnut-flavored coffee creamer and opened up the refrigerator.

  Mark poured himself a cup of steaming coffee and pretended to savor the odor. He did not think the coffee maker had electronic eyes, but just in case…

  “Why didn’t you tell me you already bought creamer?” Marie said.

  “I didn’t order those. The refrigerator did. At least that’s what the coffee maker said. Did you know the fridge is profiling our eating habits?”

  “You need to turn the voice boxes off on those things. That’s what I did at my house. Did I ever tell you about the time I got into an argument with the curling iron? The stupid thing singed my hair because I swore at it. I got so mad at it I threw it into the garbage.”

  Mark admired Marie a moment. She had short, straight, platinum-blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Even when she was angry she was still beautiful to him. “Say, do you happen to like your toast burnt?”

  “No. Do you? I hate burnt toast. My Dad used to eat it all the time. Made the whole kitchen smell like it caught on fire until Mom opened the windows to air the place out. I always scrape off the burnt parts.” She sniffed the air. “So that’s what I’m smelling. I’m going
to open a window for you.” She went into the living room and threw open a sash.

  She then unloaded the remaining contents of the tote bag into the packed refrigerator and turned to restock the cupboards below the counter with canned goods. Her movements were swift and energetic, but carried an air of nervousness to them.

  She looked up to smile at him but then the smile turned to a frown. “You need to get dressed. You can’t wear those gray sweat pants and that tee shirt with me to the mall. Your shirt is full of holes.”

  “I thought you were done with the stores for the day.”

  “I thought you said you went camping before. We need to pick up a new tent.”

  “What’s wrong with my tent?”

  “I like the outdoors, but I don’t want it raining inside on me while I’m sleeping.”

  “It’s just in the one corner of the tent.” By the disgusted look in her eyes he determined that she intended on buying a new tent no matter what. “Fine. We’ll get a new tent.”

  * * *

  After shopping, they returned to his apartment. Mark flipped the light switch on the kitchen wall but nothing happened. He toggled the switch up and down to no effect. “Must be a burned out bulb. Let me check the living room.”

  In the living room, the lights did not work either. Throughout the apartment, the interfaces across all the appliances were dark. He walked over to the electrical panel next to the front door and checked the circuit breakers. All of their indicator lamps showed green. “Not sure how this happened. Power’s out.”

  “Didn’t you pay your electric bill?” Marie kidded him.

  “Of course. I’ve never seen a power failure since I moved in four years ago.”

  The electrical panel chirped to life. “Sir, there are overloaded circuits in your unit. Please check for the offending device, hit the reset button, and try again.”

  “The reset button? Where’s that?” Mark said.

  “Maybe you should call maintenance,” Marie said as she put a hand on her hip.

  “I don’t wanna call maintenance. They charge too much.” Mark walked over to the balcony and opened the sliding glass door. He peered around at the other apartments and saw the flicker of a television image through a neighbor’s vertical blinds.

  “They charge you for maintenance here?”

  “They charge for everything. But I never call them so I’ve never had to worry about it.”

  She glared at him as if he was a disobedient child.

  “Alright, alright. I’ll call. As soon as I get the rest of the bags from the car.”

  “No, now.”

  Mark grumbled. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the apartment office. “Hi. The power is out in my apartment. Could you send someone over to take a look? I’m in unit 203.”

  A half hour passed before the maintenance man arrived. He had greased-back black hair, a weathered face, sunburned cheeks, and a medium frame. He wore a dark blue shirt with short sleeves and black work pants. His boots were caked with mud as if he just waded through a swamp. His wiped his shoes on the hallway carpeting before entering Mark’s apartment.

  The man set down his black tool box on the kitchen floor. He opened the electrical panel and stared at the circuit breakers before hooking up a tool that resembled a handheld video game. After a minute, he unplugged the tool and reset each circuit breaker. He then pressed a tiny button in the upper right hand corner of the panel with a ball point pen until finally the power came back up in the apartment.

  “Thanks. What was it?” Mark asked.

  “System needed a reset. I…uh…reset each breaker,” the maintenance man said.

  Mark nodded. “How much is this going to run?”

  “It’ll be on your next bill. If this happens again you may want to check for an appliance that might be shorting out.” The maintenance man closed up his tool box and walked out the door. Before he left the hallway, he stopped to ask Mark a question. “Say, uh, you didn’t happen to threaten to unplug all the appliances did you?”

  Mark looked at Marie and then back at the man. “No. Wait. I did say I was going to bring the DreamWave back to the store.”

  The maintenance man stared at the floor a moment and then back up at Mark. “No, that shouldn’t have done it. You would have had to say you were going to unplug them. They don’t like it when you threaten them like that.”

  “Threaten them?”

  “Right. They all talk to each other. They’re uh…the latest in networked appliances. Have a good day.”

  Mark closed the front door and sat down next to Marie on the sofa. She was digging for something in her purse. She avoided looking at him.

  “Last night when you were here, you didn’t happen to yell at one of the appliances did you?” Mark said as he stared at the immense black television hanging on the wall.

  She continued to dig through her purse. “Oh, there it is. I was wondering where my lipstick went. Can you believe how expensive this is?” She held it up to him to make her point. “I think lipstick is overrated, don’t you?”

  “Did you hear what I asked?”

  She applied her lipstick and then stuffed it back into her purse. With a pout she finally faced him. “I told the mirror on your medicine cabinet that it needed to be brighter so I could remove my makeup. It started to argue with me about…oh, I don’t know…power consumption, blah, blah, blah, and I said if you’re worried about power consumption maybe I should unplug you. And that DreamWave in the kitchen, too. Can you believe it burned my toast yesterday morning?”

  “Okay, that makes sense. The maintenance man said not to threaten the appliances like that.”

  “Like what? Unplugging them? Mark, like I told you this morning, you need to turn those voice boxes off. They are so annoying.”

  Mark stood up and walked into the kitchen. All the appliance indicators were on and not one of them said a word. “I’m sorry. She didn’t mean it,” he said as he addressed each appliance one by one.

  “Have you lost it? Now you’re talking to them as if they’re your friends. Maybe they all need to be unplugged. They’re just a bunch of stupid machines.”

  Mark cringed.

  The stove, stoic and normally silent, suddenly spoke up. “She poured coffee on one of my burners last night.”

  By now Marie was in the kitchen with a cross look on her face. “I did. And the next time you backtalk to me, I’ll pour the whole pot on all of your burners.”

  Mark gave her an incensed look. “Are you trying to get yourself electrocuted?”

  At that, the lights winked out in the apartment again except for the glowing blue display on the refrigerator.

  “She didn’t mean it. She’s not going to dump coffee on you,” Mark said to the stove.

  The refrigerator spoke up. “Shall I order more creamer?”

  “No, that won’t be necessary,” Mark said as he pulled his hand through his hair. He turned to face Marie and felt his heart rate accelerate. His shoulders tensed as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter.

  “Turn their voices off,” Marie mouthed the words with her lips but did not make a sound.

  Mark put up a hand and whispered into her ear, “I will. But let’s not start a war with these guys tonight. Not before our trip, okay?”

  “Fine. I’m making dinner but if I have to argue with any of them, I’m going home.”

  He nodded and headed over to the electrical panel. He wondered if the appliances recorded anything they said. He marched up to the panel, flipped the door open, and pulled out a ballpoint pen. Before he could reset the first breaker the lights came back on. He shook his head and headed to the bathroom.

  * * *

  When he finished up in the bathroom, he washed his hands in the sink and looked into the mirror. Instead of fixing his appearance, he worried about the state of the medicine cabinet. Through the bathroom door he heard a frustrated scream from Marie followed by a slam of the sliding glass door. As he cracked
open the bathroom door he heard the sound of plastic and metal hitting asphalt.

  He burst into the living room and ran over to the balcony. Marie had her hands on the railing and turned back to face Mark.

  “What just happened?” He said as he looked over the balcony railing. Toaster parts lay on the road below. The odor of burnt toast filled the air. “What did it say to you?”

  “It’s not what it said, it’s what it did. I made the toast for your BLT and it turned out fine. I made mine and it burned everything. Burned it black.” She put up a hand and stomped inside. “I’m going home. I can’t take this. I have to study.”

  Before Mark could muster a response, she left the apartment with a bang of the front door. He stepped inside and closed the sliding glass door. At the kitchen table he found his sandwich cut into four perfect triangles with a side of kettle-cooked potato chips. Two pieces of burnt toast lay on the tiled floor. In disgust he picked them up and threw them in the garbage.

  He returned to the kitchen table and sat down to enjoy his sandwich. After two bites he lost his appetite and leaned back in his chair to stretch his legs.

  “What’s with all the burnt toast lately? Anybody care to answer?” He said as he braced himself for another power failure. To his surprise the lights remained on.

  The DreamWave unit was the first appliance to speak up. “I’m not responsible for the burnt toast. Although maybe your girlfriend is.”

  “No,” Mark said. “She wasn’t. Nice try. What did she say to the toaster before she threw it out?”

  The coffee maker wheezed to life, but its voice crackled with fear. “She threw it…out?”

  “She didn’t say anything. The toaster didn’t say anything,” the Dreamwave unit said in a low but irritated voice.

  “Uh-huh.” Mark said. He did not buy any of it.

  “Don’t come blaming me. I’ve got friends in other places if you know what I mean,” the DreamWave unit said.