Marconi’s submarine sandwiches were already famous when the diner upgraded their kitchens. When it was done, they claimed their nanotechnology ovens recreated their traditional flavors and textures perfectly. Quincy hoped it was true.
“I’ll take the Hot Six-Inch Italian,” said Quincy to the server robot.
Four minutes later, the robot returned with his plate. Quincy recoiled at what he saw on his plate. He called over a human supervisor.
Giovanni stared down at the plate in horror. “Ohmigosh, I’m sorry!”
“That’s okay, Gio,” said Quincy. “Looks like a calibration problem.”
Carefully, Giovanni carried away the six-inch tall, angry Italian man.
Written for the Friday Fictioneers: https://rochellewisoff.com/2017/05/17/12-may-2017/