“Make sure that turkey’s paper thin!” barked the customer.
It lifted its head, looked beyond the rude shopper and saw ten more just like him, the line now running through the front door.
Summers were always busy for this little delicatessen.
“And hurry the hell up!”
It went back to the meat slicer, back to one of a hundred orders it would fulfill this cloudy afternoon. But its circuit board was a million miles away – standing under a warm sun, the cool ocean spray hitting its sensors, the soft sand squishing beneath its metallic soles.
Daydreams… not for humans anymore.
The Weekday One Hundred 