You look at the plate that’s in front of you and notice what seems to be yet another part of CARA’s programming that was left unfinished. An attempt at toast with a side of eggs was obviously made, however, the result was less then appetizing. The toast was burnt to a crisp and the egg looked like it hadn’t even been cooked, there were even pieces of the egg’s shell on the plate. The only thing that looks alright was a glass of orange juice.
Attempting to put a bit of distance between you and the plate, you find that the arm that tucked you into your current position has not moved and will not allow you an easy way out.
*Please enjoy your meal*
With that, you see an arm that appears to have some kind of fork attachment snake past you shoulder and head to your plate. After removing a chunk of roasted bread, the arm dips it into the raw egg then turns it toward you.
Before the end can get to your face you grab the fork and attempt to wrestle it away. With quick jerking motions the arm gets closer. Fear wells up inside you as the severity of the moment hits you. Sure the food is gross but you can just deal with that, the real problem is that these arms can be pretty forceful, and this one is holding something sharp at the end.
With new found strength you fight off the metal menace. You hear the sound of grinding metal as the arm tries to fight off your efforts to overcome it. It feels like you have been fighting forever as your arms burn with exertion. You worry that you won’t be able to fight much more when in the thrashing about you manage to knock the glass of orange juice over, which spills over the table, on to your shirt and into you lap.
Suddenly the arm you’ve been combating stops and you feel a bit of pride at warding of your assailant. There is a pause from CARA, perhaps thinking? You attempt to leave your seat again but still face resistance from your chair. You try to squeeze out instead but you’re packed in too tight. Feeling a bit claustrophobic you begin shouting commands for letting you go, but nothing happens.
“Well, nothing else worked. Uh…CARA, clean kitchen,” hoping for the best.
*Yes, Sara.*
*Cleaning Mode Initiated*
Quickly arms fill the room with cleaning attachments and begin scrubbing up the mess. The food is removed and the spill is wiped from the table. One with a sponge twists toward you, but you’re too tired to fight it off this time, but luckily it just dabs the excess liquid off. They eventually finish and go back to their little wholes in the wall.
*Cleaning Mood Complete*
With the arm holding the chair gone you jump out of your seat, relieved at your returned mobility.
*Please make your way to the bathroom to be cleaned*
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