Ms. Figgle-DeBitt’s Home for Wayward A.I.s
By Kurt Pankau
I watch with hope as Ms. Figgle-DeBitt samples a slice of caramelized banana upside-down cake. She takes a nibble and seems pleased. She sweeps cybernetic fingers through the shock of gray hair that sits on the human half of her face, a gesture I’ve learned is contemplative. She takes a larger bite, chews, and grimaces. She spits it out into a trash can.
I’m not upset by this. I do not get upset. I get better.
“This is definitely an improvement, Charlie,” she says. “If I may make a recommendation? Next time, peel the bananas first.”
“Of course, Ms. Figgle-DeBitt,” I say. Another foolish mistake.
“This recipe is important to you, isn’t it?” she asks. “You’ve tried to make it three times this week.”
“It’s the recipe that ended my career,” I say.