Contemporary story
On

Professor Panini

Before my many years' service in a restaurant, I attended a top science university. The year was 2023 and I was finishing the project that would win me my professorship. In the end, it resulted in my becoming a kitchen employee.

My forty-second birthday had made a lonely visit the week before, and I was once again by myself in the flat. Like countless other mornings, I ordered a bagel from the toaster. 'Yes, sir!' it replied with robotic relish, and I began the day's work on the project. It was a magnificent machine, the thing I was making - capable of transferring the minds of any two beings into each other's bodies.

As the toaster began serving my bagel on to a plate, I realised the project was in fact ready for testing. I retrieved the duck and the cat - which I had bought for this purpose - from their containers, and set about calibrating the machine in their direction. Once ready, I leant against the table, holding the bagel I was too excited to eat, and initiated the transfer sequence. As expected, the machine whirred and hummed into action, my nerves tingling at its synthetic sounds.

The machine hushed, extraction and injection nozzles poised, scrutinizing its targets. The cat, though, was suddenly gripped by terrible alarm. The brute leapt into the air, flinging itself onto the machine. I watched in horror as the nozzles swung towards me; and, with a terrible, psychedelic whirl of colours, felt my mind wrenched from its sockets.

When I awoke, moments later, I noticed first that I was two feet shorter. Then, I realised the lack of my limbs, and finally it occurred to me that I was a toaster. I saw immediately the solution to the situation - the machine could easily reverse the transfer - but was then struck by my utter inability to carry this out.

After some consideration, using what I supposed must be the toaster's onboard computer, I devised a strategy for rescue. I began to familiarise myself with my new body: the grill, the bread bin, the speaker and the spring mechanism. Through the device's rudimentary eye - with which it served its creations - I could see the internal telephone on the wall. Aiming carefully, I began propelling slices of bread at it. The toaster was fed by a large stock of the stuff, yet as more and more bounced lamely off the phone, I began to fear its exhaustion.

*

Toasting the bread before launch proved a wiser tactic. A slice of crusty wholemeal knocked the receiver off its cradle, and the immovable voice of the reception clerk answered. Resisting the urge to exclaim my unlikely predicament, I called from the table: 'I'm having a bit of trouble up here, Room 91. Could you lend a hand?'

'Certainly, sir. There's a burst water pipe on the floor above, I suppose I'll kill two birds with one stone and sort you out on the way,'

The clerk arrived promptly, leaving his 'caution, wet floor' sign in the corridor. He came in, surveying the room in his usual dry, disapproving fashion. I spoke immediately, saying I was on the intercom, and requested that he simply press the large button on the machine before him. 'This one, sir?' he asked, and before I could correct him, the room was filled with a terrible, whirling light, and he fell to the ground.

A minute later he stood up again, uncertainly, and began moving in a manner that can only be described as a waddle. The duck, meanwhile, was scrutinising the flat with an air of wearied distaste. I gazed at the scene with dismay. Suddenly an idea struck the clerk, and with avian glee he tottered towards the window. I spluttered a horrified warning to no avail. He leapt triumphantly from the balcony, spread his 'wings' and disappeared. I would have wept, but managed only to eject a few crumbs.

←2→

*

Hours of melancholy calculation and terrible guilt gave no progress, and left me with a woeful regret for the day's events. Determined not to give up hope, I began to burn clumsy messages into slices of bread, and slung these desperate distress calls through the window. I sought not only my own salvation, but also to account for the bizarre demise of the clerk, who must no doubt have been discovered on the street below. I soon found my bread bin to be empty, and sank again into a morose meditation.

A large movement shocked me from my morbid contemplation. Before me, having clambered up from the floor, stood my own body. It regarded me with dim cheer.

'I have been upgraded,' it announced in monotone. The room was silent as I struggled to cope with this information. Then:

'Would you like some toast?'

The truth dawned on me, and I wasted no time in seeing the utility of this revelation. I informed the toaster, which was now in control of my body, that I wished it to fetch help. It regarded me warily, then asked if I would like that buttered. Maintaining patience, I explained the instruction more thoroughly. I watched with surreal anticipation as my body of forty-two years jerked its way out of the flat. It rounded the corner, and there was a hope-dashing crash. It had tripped up on the 'caution: wet floor' sign. To my joyous relief, however, I heard the thing continue on its way down the corridor.

Minutes passed, then hours. I entertained myself flicking wheat-based projectiles at the cat. On the dawn of the third day, I concluded that the toaster had failed in its piloting of my body, and that help was not on its way. Gripped by the despair of one who must solve the puzzle of toaster suicide, I resigned myself to my fate.

Pushed on by a grim fervour, I began igniting the entire stock of bread. As the smoke poured from my casing, and the first hints of deadly flame flickered in my mechanisms, I began the solemn disclosure of my own eulogy.

←3

Suddenly the fire alarm leapt into action, hurling thick jets of water across the flat, desperate to save its occupants. A piercing wail erupted from all sides, and a squabbling mixture of annoyance, relief and curiosity filtered into my mind.

*

Once the firemen had visited and deactivated the alarm, I was identified as the fault, unplugged and hauled away to a repair shop. The staff there, finding nothing to remove but a faulty speech chip, apparently put me up for sale. I only know this because, on being reconnected to the mains, I found myself in a shiny, spacious kitchen. Missing my electronic voice, I could only listen to the conversation of the staff, discussing the odd conduct of their new cook. The end of their hurried discussion heralded his arrival. I gazed at the door in silent surrender, as my body stepped proudly on to the premises, displaying its newly designed menu. At the top of the list I could discern 'Buttered bagel'.

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Average: 4.5 (4 votes)

Comments

Submitted by admin on Thu, 01/06/2011 - 14:49

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I really did not like this story. It was poorly written with not much thought put into it. There were many flaws in the story that just made it confusing and rather boring. Turning into a toaster and living stationary for the rest of his life? Really? You couldnt come up with anything better? It just makes you feel bad for the poor man, not humorous what so ever. I can go with the idea of him switching minds with something else, but a toaster is just ridiculous. Good luck to you Matthew in your future writings.

Submitted by admin on Thu, 01/06/2011 - 22:54

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This story spoke to me in the sense that if you are going to change the world, change it in a way that would be beneficial. Because this odd occurrence of being changed into a toaster maybe was saying that this creation that the professor was making could be used for bad instead of good. Maybe Panini realized this so he destroyed it in the fire, and set it so no one could use his creation for evil, which turned out was what his mistake of using it on himself would never happen again. It was a well written story with funny quirks, I really enjoyed it. It could be a little more thrilling, make it spark with things to happen and dialog that really dramatic, and I think that this story could be changed in a way that makes it a famous lesson.

Submitted by admin on Fri, 02/18/2011 - 08:10

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lol ;P

Submitted by admin on Wed, 03/16/2011 - 05:50

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Good

Submitted by admin on Thu, 04/21/2011 - 13:34

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Gopd

Submitted by admin on Sat, 05/14/2011 - 21:37

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FUNNY STUFF

Submitted by admin on Fri, 06/17/2011 - 00:51

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Body-swapping stories are common, although I have never seen one where a person swaps minds with a toaster.
Unfortunately there are many holes in the plot. Here we have a 42 year old scientist, clearly an intelligent person. (I assume he is a man, but the story doesnt specify.) Yet he doesnt think to restrain the animals before switching the machine on. Then when the clerk enters the room, he somehow fails to see the body of the professor lying on the floor. After the duck-in-the-clerks-body jumps out the window the police would be swarming over the place to find which window he jumped from. Somebody would be sure to see the messages burnt in the toast eventually.
It is an interesting story as long as you dont think about the inconsistencies.

Submitted by admin on Wed, 08/31/2011 - 11:07

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First- when the MC turns into a toaster- hes two feet shorter- even if the MC is only 5 feet tall to begin with, when he turns into the toaster that makes the toaster 3 feet tall. Thats a really tall toaster. Second- plot hole, the MC has an empty bread bin, but then a couple of sentences later is throwing bread at the cat and trying to burn down the room with burnt bread. With the exception of those two things the story is very well written and nice ending.

Submitted by admin on Thu, 12/08/2011 - 18:25

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I dont think this story was that amazing. It was a lousy idea and the type of writing sounded like it wasnt experienced. Anyway, good try. Dont follow the ducks path just because I said that though.

Submitted by admin on Thu, 12/15/2011 - 23:37

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Very clever story. Although the topic itself is mundane,
the way the beginning and ending connect is brilliant.
Despite the few plotholes, I loved it.

Also, the professor is only two feet shorter during the
transformation because the toaster is on a table. Hurr
durr.

Submitted by admin on Thu, 02/16/2012 - 10:52

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STRANGE

Submitted by admin on Fri, 03/16/2012 - 07:54

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ha.............ha..................ha..........ha.......................ha.........ha...............ha...........ha........................kash

Submitted by admin on Sun, 03/18/2012 - 14:38

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Wonder piece of writing, Mr. Grigg. I love that it made me imagine and think as I read it. Also, I enjoyed the story more because it was short. You could be a great science fiction written, like my favorite author, Dean Foster.
Thank you, Phil McGuinness

Submitted by admin on Tue, 03/27/2012 - 02:45

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kewl...

Submitted by admin on Thu, 03/29/2012 - 12:29

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Bravo, bravo! I really like the humor in this story with toaster trying to call 911 by firing bread at the phone; ha .I Also the part where the toaster fired bread at the cat too. I thought it was new and very creative. I am not a big fan of short stories, but These kinds of creative and inventive stories i would read. thank you for the story, hope you succeed in your writing career!

Submitted by admin on Thu, 03/29/2012 - 12:40

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In my opinion, reading this story is a waste of time. Yeah, it was funny, but the humor that I would relate it to was that of a 4-year-old; utter nonsense. There is no hidden message, neither is there anything to learn from what happens to the man. I feel as though the author was rushed to write a story, and what he came up with was this alteration on mind-switching that involved him and a toaster. Judged by the weak plot and the plot errors, I would have to say that almost no thought went in to making this story. If anything, this story might be able to get turned into a cartoon.

Submitted by admin on Tue, 04/03/2012 - 14:06

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People who say this story is a waste of time are out of their little unimagitive minds. I absolutely HATE the new types of science fiction storys that incorporate some kind of trilogy and have names for characters out of sense and time. THIS is a TRUE science fiction story like the ones I was raised on. Im almost 65 and college educated but this author is just amazing - awesome. To take such simple subjects and weave an amazing story out of it that is humorous also is unbelieveable. I commend you for your imagination and look forward to many more storys from you. I wish I had 1% of your mind because you are ALRIGHT in my book.

Submitted by admin on Sun, 04/22/2012 - 09:38

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To the arrogant git below who called this story a waste of time: The very fact that this author managed to create a highly humourous story out of a toaster and a man proves its originality and brilliance. I think that this was skilfully executed and holds much promise, with perhaps a few tweaks here and there to sharpen it up a little. This gripped me right to the end and the ironic tone was charming to read throughout; I thoroughly enjoyed this and commend the idea. 9/10

Submitted by admin on Sun, 06/10/2012 - 15:04

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I liked this. Its a bit like a mini-Matrix, machines using man, but no malice involved anywhere. The clerk didnt jump out the window, the duck did in the clerks body. Meanwhile, the clerk was trapped in the duck. If this ended up in the starving cat, that would have tidied up that dangling plot hole.
I had the impression he was shooting crumbs at the cat.
Yes, there are holes, but there are more intruging possibilities. This story has legs, regardless of whose mind is controlling them.

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