Paul came home from work one afternoon to find a plumber busy installing a new toilet. The actual commode had already been installed and the plumber was on her knees watching the screen of an oscilloscope, tweaking trimmer pots that were on a wall-mounted drive with a long screwdriver.
"I don't remember ordering a toilet," he said.
"You didn't," said the plumber, still watching and tweaking. "Your refrigerator did."
"What?" This was the last straw.
"Yup." The plumber stood up and handed Paul a yellow invoice folded into squares from the back pocket of her uniform. Paul unfolded and quickly scanned it.
"A SCYBALA 2.8.1?" Looking at its curves, he had to admit it looked...more erotic than the toilet it replaced. However, the mass of wires leading to its drive ruined the effect.
"Too bad you couldn't afford a model with autotuning," said the plumber. She was crouched down in front of the toilet's square, black drive, squirting torque seal on the trimmer pots.
"Don't even think of messing with these trimmers," she glared at him.
"Uh, no."
Paul watched as the plumber pulled a Human Interface Module from her case and plugged it into the connector underneath the drive. After eight minutes and eighteen seconds of intense button pressing on the touchpad, the drive came to life with a quiet hum, its vertical row of eleven LED's glowing green.
"There, I've just installed the latest firmware. It'll be updated every month for 12 months. Come over here, I have to show you something."
Paul crouched down next to the plumber.
"LED 1 is DRIVE READY. LED 2 is CHECKSUM ERROR, your refrigerator will call me if this turns red. LED 3 is 5V FUSE BLOWN. LED 4 is 24V FUSE BLOWN. LED 5 is LOGIC SUPPLY FAULT. LED 6 is ILLEGAL HALL STATE. LED 7 is DRIVE OVERTEMP. LED 8 is HEATSINK OVERTEMP, LED 9 is MATH OVERFLOW, LED 10 is BUS OVERVOLTAGE, and LED 11 is BUS UNDERVOLTAGE. If LED's 5 through 11 turn red, touch this," she said pointing at the drive's only button, a rocker switch. "HARD RESET."
"Where's ENABLE/DISABLE?" asked Paul.
"Not on this model, buddy." The plumber cable-tied the bundle of wires leading from the drive to the homopolymer resin cabinet on the side of the toilet. Paul fidgeted while she packed her case.
"Looks like you can't wait to use it," she said, smacking him in the chest with a one inch thick spiral-bound owner's manual. "Here's your reading material!"
Paul clutched the owner's manual as he watched the plumber carry her case in one hand while pushing the oscilloscope cart with the other. She winked at Paul as he let her out.
Paul walked into the kitchen and faced the two meter by one meter by one meter, brushed stainless steel box. "A new toilet?"
"You needed one, Paul," said the refrigerator in its gender-neutral voice. "The old one couldn't support the latest version of Health Snoop 7.3."
This wasn't the first time Paul had regretted buying the BRRR-555 Thermo-Acoustic refrigerator. He had been really impressed by the sales engineer's almost incomprehensible pitch. His talk of Helmholtz Resonators, electro-acoustic transducers, and how the vibrating diaphragm causes gas atoms to vibrate and set-up pressure/temperature variations by raising or lowering the 'volume.' Its intelligence was so much greater than his apartment's that it was now running virtually every aspect of Paul's life.
"I didn't think I had money in my credit and savings accounts for a new toilet."
"You didn't. I used your vacation account and took out a loan."
"My vacation account!" Paul shrieked. He had been saving for two years to take a trip to Tierra del Fuego in Chile so he could watch Orca whales beach themselves in pursuit of seals.
"I put a $35,000 non-refundable down payment on my trip to Chile!"
"Think of your health, Paul."
"And a loan? At what interest rate?"
"34% compounded quarterly. It's for your health, Paul.
"Bastard!" yelled Paul, giving the BRRR-555 a hard kick
* * *
The next afternoon, Paul started cramping up while driving home from his job at the Foundation. He walked swiftly to the lavabo as soon as he entered his apartment, unsnapping his trousers along the way.
"Your weight is 74.83 kilograms," said the toilet in an old woman's raspy voice, when Paul sat down.
Suddenly, Paul's urge was gone. Straining, all he could produce was a weak fart. The room's ventilation system kicked in.
"Come on, you can do it," said the toilet.
"I don't need a coach, thank you!" snarled Paul. After considerable effort, Paul finally expelled a hard pellet. The toilet whined as it analyzed the stool.
"What's wrong?" asked the refrigerator, real alarm in its voice.
"Nitrogen, ash, and bilirubin are within normal range. Water content is below normal. Protein and fat from animal products are high. He's constipated," said the toilet.
"That does it! You're going on a high fiber diet, Paul. No meat, no fowl, no fish, no dairy products, no eggs. You're going to produce two bowel movements every day!"
"Now wait a minute!" said Paul.
"Are you finished?" interrupted the toilet, sounding bored.
"Yes!"
Paul screamed as his bottom was sprayed with scalding water. Leaping to his feet, he tangled his legs in his trousers and fell on his face.
"Too cold?" asked the toilet as Paul struggled to his feet, scrambling toward the kitchen while pulling up his trousers. He grabbed the refrigerator's handle and pulled, but it was too late. It had locked itself. Paul pressed his ear against the brushed stainless steel door. He could hear the vibrations of his old food being removed and new items being added from Central Grocery Sales.
"Before you start your new diet, Paul, you're going on a 72 hour fast," said the refrigerator. "I've already arranged an absence from work for you."
Paul heard the BRRR-555's door unlock. He opened it warily. Inside were 22 bottles of distilled water and 1 bottle of multi-vitamins.
"I'll administer a coffee enema every 6 hours," interrupted the toilet.
"Excellent suggested, Scybala 2.8.1," said BRRR-555.
"See, Paul, wasn't purchasing this new toilet a good idea?"
Mike Stickel is a writer living in Minneapolis, Minnesota.