Well I’m setting the record straight. I was in the middle of the chaos of that fateful July afternoon. You might say that I was the cause of it all, though it was through no fault of my own.
At 11:30 on any given Wednesday morning, University Avenue in downtown Berkely just west of the campus bustles with activity as people emerge from their daily grind to run their daily chores, eat their daily lunches, or get a bit of daily exercise. They can even read the local newspaper, The Daily Planet if they so desire. This particular Wednesday was well-suited to any of these choices or just about anything else one might want to do outside. It was sunny, low seventies, a bit of a breeze with a few puffy clouds in the sky for artistic effect. In short, it was far from an ominous portent of what was soon to unfold.
I had taken BART, the regional light rail, into Berkeley to clean up an error in my home loan, now held by the Washington Fargo Wachovian Mechanics Bank of America after the most recent merger / buyout / hostile takeover. My appointment wasn’t until 1:00, so I walked up toward the University just soaking up the ambiance. I was a bit hungry and happened to pass by what at first glance was a standard deli, the Tasty Bytes Delicatessen. That’s “B-Y-T-E-S”, as in the computer term. I took this to be a reference to the computer-literacy of a hoped-for clientele and, seeing myself as falling into that category, I entered.
I took a quick look around, noting a sleek, ultra-modern appearance. If one word were to be used to describe Tasty Bytes, it would have to be “orderly”. Undeniable was the almost inhuman precision with which everything was placed. The well-lit interior, dominated by brushed chrome and plexiglass, betrayed not the slightest speck of dust. Brain surgery would not have been inappropriate here.
Don’t mistake cleanliness for sparsity. The salad bar boasted an extensive array of lettuce, spinach, cole slaw, celery, bacon bits, egg bits, sprouts, pumpkin seeds, beets, pickles, peppers, beans, and an impressive assortment of dressings which would make anyone thinking that this healthy-sounding stuff would actually be good for you, squeal in a fit of utter euphoria.
I honed in on the menu displayed on the wall behind the counter. In futuristic looking lettering, it boasted (in addition to the salad bar) a veritable cornucopia of soups, sandwiches, pastries, milks, teas and, of course, coffees. There were mochas, lattes, mocha lattes, decafs, double decafs, half decafs, light roasts, medium roasts, dark roasts, French roasts, and double decaf mocha java lattes. I really think this has all gone quite too far. Just give me a double strength shot of caffeine from a syringe at 7:00 a.m. and I’m good for the day. But whatever your view of this subject, you’d have to admit that Tasty Bytes was an incredibly well-stocked deli for residing in such a compact space.
I was shaken from my musings by a synthetic, monotone “Welcome to the Tasty Bytes Delicatessen, Dewey at your service.” It reminded me of a male version of the voice used in my car’s GPS. I turned around to return the greeting, but initially saw no one. Then a slight “whirr” from the direction of the floor caught my attention and I looked down to find that I’d been greeted by a robot.
My first reaction was that it was just a gimmick, but a second look at my surroundings revealed that in addition to me and 2 other customers, was a staff of 3 such robots, one red, one green, and my greeter of blue. Reminiscent of the ever-popular R2D2 of Star Wars fame, each of these robots had a cylindrical body of brushed chrome, about two feet tall, capped by a clear, tinted, dome-shaped head, through which could be seen a multitude of whirling gears, flashing lights and other futuristic-looking paraphernalia. At the base, they had small wheels upon which they rolled speedily and effortlessly from task to task without anything but the utmost courtesy toward the customers.
I strongly suspected that someone in back was controlling these high-tech hashslingers. I peered around the corner, but saw no one. Could technology have evolved so far, so fast? Wishing to test its response capabilities, I asked my greeter, “Do any humans work here?”
Came his reply, “No, only we 3 robots.” Then bowing as deep a bow as his rigid frame would allow, he added “Huey, Dewey and Louie at your service. I’m Dewey.” Indeed, I now noticed that where the head met the body, each robot had its name inscribed in flowing script. This place was SO COOL!
“How long have you been open?” I inquired.
“Three minutes, 4 and 7/10ths seconds. This is our first day.”
“This is such a radical concept – I didn’t see any advertising.”
Dewey explained, “The owner was unsure how we would perform under live conditions. This is a test before he opens his nation-wide chain.”
I offered, “A chance to get the bugs out, so to speak?”
“We have no bugs, perhaps undocumented features, no bugs. Ha Ha Ha - computer humor.” An old joke, no doubt hard-wired in by his creator, but I laughed just the same. By now I didn’t care about the loss of jobs, the inherent sterility of the atmosphere, or even the philosophical implications, I was ready for the Tasty Bytes Deli and it appeared to be ready for me.
