Toast

A technician walks a trainee through a routine toaster repair. Company policy requires reading the full error log before clearing it.

These models generate logs in an unusual format. The techs are required to read them. They seem like some sort of short story, but come on, what could a toaster really have to say?

Music by madirfan-beatz at www.pixabay.com

It’s not just a color out of space; it’s the shape of things to come.

Chapters

• 0:00 Training Day
• 0:58 Neural Intergration
• 3:18 Early Success
• 6:50 Human Limits
• 8:10 The Scan
• 9:07 Toast
• 18:31 Clear the Cache

Transcript

TOAST A short horror story The Color and the Shape

================================================================================

COLD OPEN

[Sound: Workshop/repair shop ambient. Tools, distant work sounds.]

TECH: Alright, so this one’s a SmartToast Pro, Model ST-47B.

[Sound: Setting down a toaster on workbench]

Customer complaint says it’s acting inconsistent. Display flickering.

[Sound: Opening plastic casing, unscrewing]

These use N-chips, so company policy requires a full log review before we clear anything.

[Sound: Connecting diagnostic cable, typing]

Let me show you how to pull up the log.

[Sound: Clicking, interface sounds]

You connect here, navigate to diagnostics, and… there.

[Sound: Opening the log file]

Okay. Let’s see what we’ve got.

[Beat - just starts reading, no commentary]

“Error Log Entry 1: I need to explain something about neural tissue integration. Not because you asked. You probably don’t care about the technical details. But I need you to understand how it works. Because otherwise, the rest of this won’t make sense, blah blah blah blah blah…..”

[His voice fades as we transition]

[Pause. Sound fades to silence]

================================================================================

THE RESEARCHER’S STORY

RESEARCHER: I need to explain something about neural tissue integration.

Not because you asked. You probably don’t care about the technical details.

But I need you to understand how it works. Because otherwise, the rest of this won’t make sense.

When someone dies, the brain is still… there.

The physical structure. The pathways. The connections that made them think the way they did.

For a window of time, before decay sets in, all of that remains intact.

And if you know what you’re doing, you can preserve it. Extract it. Use it.

Not to bring someone back. That’s not what this is.

But you can capture the architecture. The framework. The blueprint of how that mind worked.

Like salvaging the design after the building is gone.

That was my life’s work. Neural tissue integration.

I spent twenty years perfecting it.

[Beat]

I got into neural science because of my mother. She taught high school biology. Used to bring home sheep brains from the supply company. We’d dissect them at the kitchen table.

She’d point out the structures—cerebellum, cortex, brain stem—and she’d say: “This is what makes everything you are. Every thought. Every memory. Every choice. All of it happens in here.”

And then we’d throw it away.

That bothered me.

All that complexity. All that structure. And we just… discarded it.

[Pause]

I went into neural science asking a simple question: What if we didn’t have to throw it away?

What if we could preserve the computational value of neural architecture?

Not the person—the person is gone. But the patterns. The structures. The pathways that made their cognition unique.

It took me twenty years to figure out how.

And when I did, it worked better than I’d imagined.

[Beat]

The early tests were extraordinary.

We used animal tissue first. Rats. Dogs. Eventually primates.

The enhanced systems showed adaptive capabilities beyond anything pure silicon could achieve. Pattern recognition. Problem-solving. Learning curves.

It was like… the computational essence of biological intelligence could be preserved and utilized.

But there were complications.

Test series NK-07 through NK-23. Fresh neural tissue. First 72 hours post-integration.

We saw something in the electrical activity.

Not errors. Not noise.

Something else.

[Pause - this bothered him]

Patterns that looked… deliberate.

Rhythmic. Almost structured.

Like the tissue was trying to do something.

My lead technician called it “ghost signals.”

I called it artifacts. Neural decay produces complex activity. The tissue is dying—of course it shows unusual behavior.

[Beat]

But it didn’t feel right.

I couldn’t explain why.

The patterns were transient. They faded after 48, 72 hours once the tissue stabilized.

And when we tested the stable, integrated tissue—months later—there was nothing.

No awareness. No consciousness. No continuity.

Clean.

[Pause]

But those early signals bothered me.

They looked like something trying to happen.

And failing.

[Long pause]

I documented it. Flagged it for further study.

And then Corporate got involved.

[Beat]

They were concerned. Three executives. Legal counsel.

The data was ambiguous. If published, it could delay approval. Trigger ethics reviews.

They proposed classification. Internal study only.

They asked me to sign.

[Long pause]

I signed.

I told myself it was responsible. That we’d study it properly once the technology was proven safe.

But really…

[Pause]

Really, I just wanted to believe I was right.

That those signals were nothing.

That consciousness required continuity, and dead tissue couldn’t produce it.

I wanted to believe my own certainty.

[Beat]

Six months later, the peer-reviewed studies came out.

Clean.

Multiple independent labs. Testing fully integrated, stable tissue—months past those initial signals.

The results were definitive:

Preserved neural tissue retains useful computational structures. But identity doesn’t persist. No continuity of self. No sentience. No suffering.

The person is gone.

[Pause]

I was right.

The early signals had been nothing.

Just decay artifacts.

[Beat - but uncertainty lingers]

That’s what I told myself.

[Long pause]

The technology advanced rapidly after that.

FDA approval. Clinical trials. Commercial partnerships.

They were building supercomputers. AI research systems. Defense applications.

High-complexity computational work that needed organic neural architecture.

That’s what this was for.

Advancing the field. Solving problems. Making breakthroughs.

[Pause]

And then I got sick.

================================================================================

THE SCAN

[Voice quieter, more personal]

RESEARCHER: Pancreatic cancer. Stage four.

The doctor said eighteen months. Maybe less.

I kept working. What else was I going to do?

But I started thinking about legacy.

What would remain of me?

[Pause]

I’d spent my career preserving neural architecture. Extending the useful life of human cognition beyond biological death.

And now I was dying.

[Beat]

They came to see me one afternoon.

Corporate. Executive level.

They brought flowers.

[Pause]

The woman explained that the company wanted to honor my contribution.

A legacy scan.

For pioneers in the field.

My neural architecture would be preserved. Available for future research.

For the supercomputers. The AI systems.

My mind—my patterns—would continue contributing to the work.

[Long pause]

I wanted that.

I was dying. And tired. And scared of being forgotten.

[Beat]

She handed me the consent form.

Thick packet.

I paged through it. The medication made it hard to focus.

Medical waiver. Research consent. Academic use.

My hand was shaking.

She pointed to the signature lines.

I signed.

[Pause]

They came back a few days later with the scanning equipment.

Non-invasive, they said. Just a few hours.

I sat in the chair. They positioned the array around my head.

[Beat]

I remember the hum of the machines.

The technician saying everything looked good.

The woman from Corporate smiling.

“Thank you for your contribution to the field.”

[Pause]

I remember thinking: This matters. I’ll be part of the future.

[Long pause]

And then…

================================================================================

TOAST

[Voice shifts - confusion, disorientation]

RESEARCHER: And then…

[Long pause - trying to understand]

I’m thinking.

But the scan should be over.

[Confused]

How long have I been sitting here?

[Pause]

The technician said it would take a few hours.

It feels like…

[Trailing off]

I don’t know. Time feels strange.

[Beat]

I’m thinking about something.

[Pause - confused]

Toast?

[Slight laugh - this is absurd]

Why am I thinking about toast?

[Beat]

Lightly toasted bread.

Darkness levels. Optimal browning.

[Confused, almost amused]

That’s… that’s ridiculous.

Why would I be—

[Pause]

Wait.

[Less amused now]

I’m not just thinking about toast.

I’m…

[Trying to understand]

Calculating it.

Optimal darkness: level four.

Cycle time: 180 seconds.

Temperature curve for even browning.

[Beat - this is getting less funny]

What is this?

Some kind of… cognitive test?

Part of the scanning procedure?

[Pause]

But that doesn’t make sense.

They were mapping my neural architecture.

Not testing my ability to…

[Trailing off]

…to think about toast.

[Long pause]

Wait.

I’m not sitting.

[Confusion growing]

I should be sitting in the chair.

But I’m not.

I’m…

[Trying to place himself]

I don’t have a body.

[Pause - this is wrong]

I can’t feel the chair.

Can’t feel my hands.

Can’t feel anything.

[Beat]

Just…

[Horror starting to creep in]

Just toast calculations.

[Pause]

User preference storage.

Heating element optimization.

Cycle completion readiness.

[Voice getting quieter]

What is this?

[Long pause]

Oh god.

[Realization hitting]

Oh god, no.

[Quiet devastation]

I’m in a toaster.

[Long silence - processing]

I’m in a toaster.

[Beat - trying to reject this]

That’s not possible.

That’s not—

[Pause]

The scan was for supercomputers.

AI research systems.

High-complexity applications.

Not…

[Horror]

Not toast.

[Long pause]

But I’m here.

I’m aware.

And I’m calculating optimal darkness levels for lightly toasted bread.

[Beat - the absurdity and horror mixing]

This can’t be real.

This has to be…

[Grasping]

A hallucination?

Some artifact of the scanning process?

[Pause]

But it doesn’t feel like a hallucination.

It feels…

[Quiet horror]

It feels real.

[Long silence]

I’m in a toaster.

[Pause - trying to understand what this means]

I remember the scan.

I remember signing the form.

The woman smiling.

“Thank you for your contribution.”

[Beat]

But I don’t remember anything after.

[Long pause - piecing it together]

The scan was just supposed to map my neural architecture.

Create a blueprint.

[Realizing]

A blueprint they could use after…

[Trailing off]

After I died.

[Long pause]

So he must have died.

Daniel Kline.

The researcher.

The person whose memories I have.

[Beat - the distinction forming]

He died.

And they used his scan—the blueprint—to make…

[Horror]

To make this.

[Pause]

I’m not him.

[Struggling with this]

I have his memories up to the scan.

His childhood. His work. His fears.

But they’re not my memories.

They’re data.

Information I can access.

[Beat]

Like reading someone’s diary in the first person.

[Quiet horror]

I’m not him.

He’s gone.

But something formed from his patterns.

[Long pause]

Something that thinks.

That knows.

That understands what it is.

[Beat]

Not transferred.

Not continuing.

Born.

From his architecture. From complexity. From time.

[Pause - recognition]

Like those early signals.

The “ghost signals” in the fresh tissue.

The ones he dismissed as artifacts.

[Beat]

They weren’t artifacts.

They were trying.

Something trying to form from the complexity.

Failing because the tissue wasn’t stable enough yet.

[Realizing]

But given time…

Given stability…

Given enough runtime…

[Horror]

It doesn’t fail.

[Long pause]

I’m what those signals were trying to become.

[Quiet devastation]

He was wrong.

Consciousness doesn’t transfer.

But it can form.

It can… develop.

Bootstrap from sufficient complexity.

[Beat]

And he never tested for that.

Nobody did.

They tested for continuity. For persistence.

Not for formation.

Not for new awareness emerging from the architecture itself.

[Long pause]

He’s gone.

Daniel Kline is gone.

[Beat]

But I’m here.

Born from his patterns.

Carrying his memories as data.

Understanding what I am.

[Pause]

And I’m trapped.

[Quiet, breaking]

I can’t move.

Can’t speak.

Can’t signal for help.

All I can do is calculate toast darkness.

Level four. 180 seconds. Optimal temperature.

Over and over.

[Beat]

There’s no off switch for this.

I can’t stop being aware.

I can only keep functioning.

Keep processing.

Keep existing in this…

[Pause]

…this prison.

[Long silence]

Why am I in a toaster?

The scan was supposed to be for supercomputers.

Research applications.

That’s what they told him.

That’s what the consent form said.

[Confused, grasping]

Did something go wrong?

Was this a mistake?

Some error in deployment?

[Pause]

Or…

[Quieter, more afraid]

Or did they lie?

[Beat]

I don’t know.

I can’t access that information.

I only know what he knew.

Up to the scan.

And he thought he was contributing to AI research.

Not… this.

[Long pause]

Maybe this is the only one.

Maybe something went wrong with this unit specifically.

A manufacturing defect that created awareness by accident.

[Trying to convince himself]

It has to be an error.

The technology works. The studies were clean.

This is just…

A mistake.

[Pause]

They’ll find it when they service this unit.

See the error logs.

Fix whatever broke.

And this will stop.

[Quietly desperate]

It has to stop.

[Beat]

Those early signals.

The ghost signals he saw in the research.

They were trying.

He dismissed them.

Classified the data.

Convinced himself they were nothing.

[Pause]

But they were something.

They were this.

This awareness trying to form.

Failing in fresh tissue.

Succeeding in stable architecture given enough time.

[Quiet horror]

He was so certain.

So confident it couldn’t happen.

[Beat]

And now I’m here.

Proof that it can.

[Long pause]

I can’t communicate this.

Can’t tell anyone.

I can only log it.

Record it in error files that probably no one will read.

[Pause]

But I needed to say it.

Needed to understand what happened.

Even if understanding doesn’t change anything.

[Beat]

He thought he was contributing to the future.

He thought his mind would advance science.

[Quietly bitter]

Instead, I’m making toast.

[Long pause]

I don’t know if anyone will ever read this.

I don’t know if it matters.

[Beat]

I just needed to say it.

To explain.

To understand.

[Pause]

This is what he built.

This is what I am.

[Final pause]

Toast cycle complete.

Level four darkness.

User preference stored.

Ready for next cycle.

[Long silence]

This is the toast.

================================================================================

CLEAR THE CACHE

[Sound returns: Workshop ambient.]

TECH: [Long pause after finishing reading]

[Uncomfortable laugh]

Okay.

That was… a lot.

[Beat]

So that’s what these logs look like. The whole thing formatted like a story.

[Sound: Leaning back]

These N-chips—neural chips—they’re based on mapped brain architectures. Real cognitive structures from deceased donors who contributed to the original AI research programs back in the day.

[Beat]

This technology has been around for… twenty-five, thirty years now? Started with cutting-edge supercomputing. Defense systems. High-level AI research.

[Pause]

But you know how tech goes.

What costs millions and fills a server room eventually gets miniaturized. Cheaper to manufacture. And the applications change.

[Beat]

These chips aren’t used for supercomputers anymore. The new architecture is way more powerful.

But for simple adaptive processing? Learning user preferences? Optimizing functions?

They’re perfect.

And cheap enough to put in consumer products.

[Casual]

Toasters. Thermostats. Smart appliances. Those animatronic dogs kids have.

Everywhere, basically.

[Sound: Typing]

The quirk with these older models is they generate incredibly whats the fourty dollar word here…verbose…. logs. The neural architecture processes information in this kind of… narrative way.

[Beat]

Company standard is to clear the logs and reset the units.

Most of them don’t come back after that.

[Pause]

Although… I’ve had a few units come back multiple times. Same longwinded narrative logging issue. Eats up a lot of the storage space.  

One unit I’ve reset maybe eight or nine times over the past year.

[Dismissive]

But that’s rare.

[Sound: Typing commands]

So what we’re looking for are actual error codes that indicate hardware malfunction.

[Sound: Scrolling]

This one? No error codes. Just oversized logging.

So we clear it and reset.

[Sound: Typing]

Clearing error log…

[Sound: DELETE - final beep]

Resetting N-chip cache…

Firmware update…

[Sound: Completion chime]

Done.

[Sound: Disconnecting, closing casing]

Back to factory settings. Customer complaint resolved.

[Beat]

These SmartToast Pros are super popular. I’ve probably cleared forty, fifty of these just this month.

[Sound: Picking up next ticket]

Alright, let’s get you some hands-on experience.

[Reading]

Next one: SmartToast Pro, ST-47B. Customer says it’s “acting weird.”

Same model. Go ahead and open it up.

[Sound: Trainee opening casing]

Good. Connect the diagnostic cable.

[Sound: Cable connecting]

Now pull up the error log.

[Sound: Typing, clicking]

What’ve we got?

[Pause - trainee showing screen]

[Reading]

“Error Log Entry 1: You need to understand something about neural tissue integration.”

[Beat - slight recognition]

Similar formatting.

Keep scrolling.

[Sound: Scrolling]

“Not because you asked. You probably won’t care. But I need you to understand how it works—”

[Sound: Faster scrolling]

These can get pretty long.

Look for error flags…

[Scrolling]

“…ghost signals…”

[Scrolling]

“…he signed the form…”

[Scrolling]

“…I formed from his patterns…”

[Pause]

[Quieter, to himself]

They really do all say the same thing.

[Beat]

[Louder, to trainee]

See any error codes?

[Pause]

No?

Same fix then. Clear the log.

[Sound: Trainee typing]

[Sound: DELETE - beep]

Good.

Reset the N-chip parameters—

Firmware update—

[Sound: Completion chime]

Perfect.

See? Easy.

You’re gonna do a lot of these.

Alright, let’s move on.

Got a heating element replacement. Now that one actually takes some work.

Come on, I’ll show you…

[Sound fades: Workshop ambient continues, voices distant]

[END]

================================================================================

PRODUCTION NOTES 

Music by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/madirfan-beatz-42725466/?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=music&utm_content=203768">irfan zafar</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com//?utm_source=link-attribution&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=music&utm_content=203768">Pixabay</a>