He’s an A7
The vending machine in the lunchroom of Global Cybercom had a secret. It could see you.
Not just “camera for security,” see you; no, this machine could judge your soul. Its name, because of course it had one, was Vendrick.
Every morning, Vendrick warmed up its LED display, stretched its spirals, and prepared for the parade of humans who would inevitably make the wrong snack choices. But today … today was special.
At 9:00 AM, just as every day, Betty entered the lunchroom. She never looked over the selections. She never took time to see if there was something new or perhaps something that she would like better. She always got her favorite, D5-Wavy Lays. Vendrick knew it from the beginning, too. You see, he had a knack for knowing what snack someone would select before they did. He could tell by how close they stood to him. By the way, they would keep going back to the first item they longed for.
Charlie Depp, E3-Chocolate donuts. Janice Spruce, A2-Milky Way. Then there was Angie Shaw. She was always on a diet but wanted a snack. She tried her best to eat healthy, so she would get the Veggie Straws -C7.
Then one day, a newcomer. Vendrick had never seen him before. Tall. Confident. Hair that said, “I use product.” A man who walked like he had a podcast. Vendrick gasped internally. “Oh-ho-ho… look at THIS guy,” it whispered to the granola bars. “He’s an A7. Definitely an A7. A7, of course, was the Honey-BBQ Kettle Crunch Explosion Chips, a snack so aggressively seasoned it could sandblast your taste buds.
The man approached. Vendrick vibrated with excitement. “Come on… come on… press it… PRESS A7,” Vendrick muttered, its coils trembling like a caffeinated squirrel. The man studied the keypad. He squinted. He leaned in. Vendrick held its breath. He lifted his finger……hovered over A7……and then……pressed B2.
B2. – The plain baked crackers. Vendrick’s lights flickered in disbelief. “B2? B2?!” Vendrick sputtered. “That’s not even a snack! That’s a cry for help!” The crackers dropped with a sad little thud. The man walked away, munching blandly, unaware that he had just emotionally devastated a machine.
Vendrick stared after him, spirals drooping. The granola bars tried to comfort it. “Maybe he’s on a diet,” whispered Granola Greg. “Maybe he’s boring,” muttered Snickers Stan. “Maybe he’s lost,” said Dorito Donna. But Vendrick shook its LED screen. “No. I know an A7 when I see one.”
The next day, the man returned. Vendrick perked up. “Round two,” it whispered. “Redemption arc.” The man approached. He reached into his pocket. He pulled out a dollar. Vendrick buzzed with hope. He pressed—A7. Vendrick nearly short-circuited from joy. As the chips spiraled down, Vendrick whispered triumphantly: “I knew it.” And somewhere deep inside its circuitry, a tiny confetti cannon fired.
