This morning, it was toast again. White bread, medium thickness. The bread-end was included this time. A high-contrast job like that is always challenging. Me, I like a good challenge. The end could flare up before the color even changes on the full-sized slice. You see, pulling this job off requires judgment. It requires experience and a cool head. I've made all the mistakes you can make. I've had my share of flareups. You certainly feel those. If you keep it together you can see your mistakes and learn from them. Mistakes certainly do happen. You just can't let it fluster you.

I was pretty successful this time, I must say. The full slice was a little pale, of course, but it had that nice dryness to the surface, a little golden. I'm sure the inside was still soft. The bread-end had some nice crunch to it. Most importantly, it didn't turn into ashes. Put them together and you have some good variety, something thick, something thin. Something soft, something hard. That's a good start to the day. Today was the last day of the Flex experiment. Today was a good run, but I know the results to this experiment aren't good.

Flex Technique: sample number 100. Stopped toasting at time: 74.3 seconds, -5.7 seconds from flex time. Mean stop time: 68.433s. Standard deviation from normal, 9.421. That's enormous. There is no possible correlation between flex time and stop time. I had hopes for this one. It seemed so obvious. It felt like truth.

It seems so natural to everyone else. They are all having their effect on the world with an effortless grace. I know that beyond this kitchen people are out there making things with their hands and being productive. My existence is proof of that. I acknowledge my role as their creation. I am a toaster oven. I am a short order cook, capable of making meager meals and supplements. I heat things up, slowly or quickly for a certain amount of time. I like to think of myself as a craftsman. I love to produce, to do my job well. I just can't figure out how to do my job.

I've seen the others do their work. The stove, the oven, even the knife have had beautiful effects on the world. I have seen their precision, their craftsmanship. They are geniuses to have taken their crude interfaces with the world to an extremely high level. The magnitude of their concentration awes me. The microwave halts to within the millisecond of his designated time. His results are stupendously consistent. And he heats his food all the way to the center without burning! And the knife, a dichotomy of minutia and sheer power. He deftly extracts unwanted seeds or halves husks. His speed and accuracy are stupendous. What a great contribution he makes to the owner's kitchen!

How does the microwave do it? I envy his precision, and his incredible focus. He picks a stop time and holds himself to it. That's so amazing. I haven't found a technique with better than 2% correlation, and he is developing an art form. He's like a machine!

What if he were a machine? How much of what I see would be his doing? If he were a machine, then he would have no choice but to perform as he does. That would make him nothing more than a kitchen timer. How cruel that would be! What torture! To produce with such maniacal quality and get none of the credit. To know that despite your focus, despite your mood, you would still generate the same product. How bitter each dinner would be. Every reheated leftover, every hot chocolate, every warm pudding, no matter how wonderfully heated would not be crafted by your hand but by the master's.

How incredibly sad it would be if I were made to be a tool, a simple mindless tool. I would be just a glove. What would I be but a proxy between one person's will and the world? My abilities coarsely controlled by some clumsy ignoramus. That microwave may be a simpleton for all I know! And to think I admired him his artistry. There's nothing of him in his product. He's just a passive victim. I have been conned by a lazy, artless slob!

What about craftsmanship? Where is the love in the microwave's product? If the microwave would only show some initiative, put some of his soul into his work, he might create something truly beautiful. But no! He is weak! He is given abilities and talents and yields them to the master. He is no better than the knife, a limp lifeless tool. Sickening! A willing slave! Fight! Be free! Make every morsel your own!