The door to the testing area opened as Ian pushed it. That was at least reassuring. An oddly refreshing action. The sound of automatic doors was starting to give him a twitch. The room was a typical example of the foundation's minimalist style, as it was sparsely decorated, if you could call anything in a typical foundation room "decorated". The left wall featured prominently a great, black glass window. If that wasn't a one-way window… then it was certainly a bold choice. There was only a square grid line marking what appeared to be a safety boundary line on the floor, and a circle marking the dead centre of the room.
Sitting in the centre of the small, square room was the toaster, and two meters from it, towards the door, was a small, red toolbox. There was a larger, and far less familiar looking metal box next to it that Ian desided to soundly ignore. He padded over to the little red box and popped the lid open. He shuffled through the tools, screwdrivers, wire clippers, soldering iron, flux, etcetera, then reclosed the box, scooped it up and carried it over to the innocent looking toaster. He fumbled with it as he knelt to the ground, and it and its myriad contents rattled in a sound that fell dead against the walls. Ian's face stayed stock still, not least of all because he was furiously biting back a yelp and his tongue, as his wounded pinkie finger shot up to his mouth, having been trapped under the falling box.
Pulling open the lid again with a gentle, slow hand that tried it's best not to betray his stinging hand and his heaping embarrassment. He plucked out a Philips screwdriver, a pair of wire cutters and a flat blade from their neatly arranged lines. Kneeling down by the toaster, grasping the Philips in his right hand, he flipped the toaster onto its side, and loosened the base panel and levered it off. No voice, monotonously commanding or otherwise rung over the intercom, though he waited every second for it to give some grating, half understood command. Even the knowledge that it was only the bubbling coffee pot Regent behind the speakers, he still felt like he was trying to hold a wriggling frog in his mouth.
Pulling out the innards, he placed them on the floor. Suddenly the detailed schematics he had been given by Regent started making more sence. He was even able to recognise the electromagnet, which he may or may not have pointed to, eyebrows shooting upwards, mouth forming a small 'o'. As he evaluated the mess of wires, a single wire snapped. It was a tiny and innocuous sound, and yet it sent his hands flying away from the mess he was making. The soldering iron in his hand he held far from his face, the hot tip very purposefully pointing away from his face. Even at a distance of two feet, it still felt too close. He liked his eyes where they were and would realy like to not let his clumsiness take one out.
Puzzled, he pulled open the second compartment of the toolbox and took out some fresh wiring, solder, and the battery-operated soldering iron. It was an intimidating weight in his hand, one with a menacing looking sting. With a flip of the heavy switch, the point began to warm. If he was going to put this back together, then he was going to make sure it worked right. That was what he was here for right? Right… He was sure it was… but just in case, he was going to… pretend that it was.
For the life of him, he could not figure out where this wire, that was twisted in a bundle of similarly lost wires, connected two and from. He could see a component and its connection to other components, but either he had vastly misunderstood the diagram, or even the instructions that came with the toaster, but these mystery wires should not have been there. He certainly saw no reason for the heating coils power source to be connected to the lever mechanism... With care, he tweezed at the broken wire, which had split, metal and casing, completely appart. In the back of his head, he was sure this was easy. He was also sure that he was wrong to think that.
Strip the wire, keep it steady, iron and solder, too much solder, clean it up, keep the iron away from your hand, AWAY from you hand, AND YOU'RE BODY, straighten the wires, insulating tape, Done. Done, right? Right. He was vaguely aware of the multi-meter he could have used to test the connection… that felt like something that he was not qualified to use. There was surly one way to find out if he'd fixed it.
With nothing else left to do, he quickly reassembled the toaster. This did involve cramming in some parts that he assumed were supposed to be loose, and simply could not decipher how to tuck them back in neatly. Once more he kept his face blank and moved as though this was how it was meant to be put back together.
Ian sat up from where he had been leaning over the toaster. He put his hands on his hips and let out a huff. He had had a clear view of the wires in the toaster when it had snapped, and there had been nothing that could have cause the damage… except possibly himself. The toaster wasn't even plugged in, so it couldn't have been an… electrical overload? He wondered if it was worth coming up with a lie in case this was somehow his fault.
After minutes of sitting, staring, he realised that he still had to make some toast. He swivelled around on the spot, looking for a loaf of bread, or perhaps a pop tart (he wasn't sure what the foundation would provide that, but he could dream…). He turned 180 degrees around, to face the door, when he spotted the metal box that he had left in the 'safe zone'. He turned around and crawled across the floor, as standing and walking would be a waste of energy over such a short distance. He kneeled back again, placed both hands on the sides near the top of the box, before carefully folding the lid off, revelling a loaf of plain white bread. He picked up a piece of bread in both hands, then he shuffled around and then shuffled back to the toaster. He stuffed the bread in and pausing slightly, he pressed the paddle on toasters side down. Its insides began to warm. It only half occurred to him that the toaster should not have engaged at all, as it wasn't plugged in. Some minutes later, the bread popped out, crispy and golden.
"Ding." The sound came as a surprise to Ian. Not because the toaster had announced the completion of the bread toasting process, but because the noise it had made sounded… like a human being… saying the word 'Ding'. Except it couldn't be as the noise had defiantly come from the toaster and it had been perfectly timed with the ejection of the toast.
For a little while, 2 minutes to be precise, Ian wondered if he had actually heard what he thought he had. He was about to dismissed it when-
"The toast's getting cold you know. Hurry up and take it! I'm a toaster not a bread bin!" Ian couldn't help but stair wide eyed, at the, apparently, sentient toaster.
-~o~-
Behind the glass wall in the observation area, doctor Regent was having a less controlled reaction. He too had been stunned into silence. Then he had yelped quietly to himself and gripped the edge of the desk so tightly his knuckles went while. "What!" he exclaimed with huge excitement, almost deafening the assistant who was sitting next to him. The hyperactive doctor then jumped out of his seat and leapt around the room, shouting manically before sitting down again. He then proceeded to punch his assistant rather hard on the arm, in an attempt to further vent his excitement. As if this situation wasn't bad enough for the research subordinate, he then fell on the floor as a result of Regent's right hook. Although in spite of this all he did was sigh and hold his bruised arm on the floor. He had obviously worked with Regent before.
-~o~-
Back in the testing room, Ian slowly reached for the piece of brown, crispy toast that was sticking out of the toaster. It was perfectly cooked, crispy all over, the perfect shade of brown. Just how Ian liked it. "Uh… thank you…?" he wasn't actually sure if the toaster could hear him yet and he felt rather silly talking to a kitchen appliance. He didn't expect to get a response.
"No. Thank you" the toasters voice was cheerier than before, but a little monotonous. It was the sort of voice you would expect your toaster to speak in. That is, if you are the type of person who expects their toaster to speak to them.
"You know, I don't know what you did, but I really am grateful! You have no idea how long I've been trying to get someone to fix me! I mean who isn't going to notice a toaster that makes you call yourself a toaster! I thought it would work for sure, but I guess the side effects weren't the best, but that's not my fault! You have no idea how frustrating it was to sit there and watch them all go mad, I mean it's so boring just sitting there on a counter waiting to be used, and THEN they had to go making fun of me by trying to be toasters too. Talk about offensive! and then these foundation people came along and put me in a box and did all those stupid tests. They pulled me open but then they just put me back together I mean how hard is it to fix a toaster, come on! Oh you have no idea how nice it is to have someone to talk to again! You were even grateful! Imagine that, how many people ever show any gratitude to their toasters, it's just plain rude in my opinion! Oh but I'm rambling, what did you say your name was again?"
The Scot just sat and stared, mouth gapping. "…Ian." He answered without thinking. What else was he supposed to say? He was still a little overcome by the speed the toaster had spoken at, and the fact that he was talking to a toaster. "Ian huh? Well how do you do Ian, I'm Terry."
Ian couldn't help but knot his eyebrows at the name. "T… Terry... Terry the toaster..." he repeated in disbelief. "Yes, that's me, hello!" the toasters voice had loosened off a bit since he had started talking, and he sounded a little more human, which was, again, rather odd for a toaster. Ian smiled and shook his head at the madness of the entire situation. "This whole place is insane" he thought to himself jokingly.
"Say Ian. You're not gonna put me back in the box are you?" The toaster… Terry asked, cautiously. The temporary doctor opened and closed his mouth like a fish for a few moments, at a loss for how to reply. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to authorise what Terry had requested. Fortunately, at that moment the door flew open, revealing a smiling doctor Regent. "There's no way you're going back into storage, you little beauty!" they joyful doctor yelled rather too loudly. He ran over to Ian and terry and scooped the toaster up. He then gave it a hug as if it was his own child. From just behind him and from within the observation room, 2 sets of eyes stared at him in complete bewilderment. Terry reacted to the situation with a calm, controlled voice.
"Ian, who on earth is this man? Please tell me you know him?" It asked in the same chipper voice it had held for the entirety of their conversation. Ian looked Regent dead in his eyes, which were rather laboriously scanning over the Toasters metal surface. He nodded. "Oh I see." The toaster mumbled to himself, before addressing the doctor. "Excuse me, sir? Could you please put me down, I would prefer to be on a flat, stable surface, please." Doctor Regent simply smiled in response.
"Of Couse I will. But first, how would you like to be put in the staff break room? We do need a new toaster."
Terry gasped. Terry the toaster… who had no lungs… "Really? Really?!"
Ian was then forced to walk behind doctor Regent who was still holding Terry. Both of them where singing. Loudly. About Toast. Unfortunately for anyone walking down the same corridor as them, the lack of an electrical current flowing through his cables from a mains socket did not stop Terry from talking the entire way there. Eventually, after a long and embarrassing journey (during which Ian considered how nice and quiet his barren room was and, lagged behind Regent as far as he dared without fear of being tackled by patrolling guards, blinking like he could blink himself out of existence,) they reached the break room.
Like the rest of the foundation, it only had the necessities like a desk, chairs, a couch, coffee table and a small kitchen area, like someone had taken a list of all the things that should be in a break room and given it to the most practical, boring man they had on staff, which might have been Dr Loanyard. As soon as Terry saw his new home he began to make noises that made it seem as if he was crying tears of joy. This made the trip seem a little more worth it.
The toaster was placed, as a toaster should be, on the counter and plugged in. Dr Regent then proceeded to place a piece of bread into the talking toaster before pressing the slider down with all the flair of a professional chef. Ian hovered ominously nearby, not sure if it would be too obvious to fling himself down onto the dull grey couch, face first.
"I've had my assistant run all the paperwork so we're good to go. You can stay here as long as you like." At this statement, Terry began humming a song again, to himself. If Regent had meant 'staying in this room as long as you liked' he could probably have said he wouldn't have minded, but he imagined he would have to get very fond of toast. The senior doctor then turned to Ian with a smile that practically split his face in half. "I've got something for you too." He reached into his coat and pulled out a file of paper. Ian took it and quickly leafed through it.
"It's conformation. From now on, youll be able to take part in testing procedures… without it being involuntary."
It was certainly confirmation of something. The more Ian read and reread the page the more he got the awful, drowning machine type feeling that he was reading it correctly.
"of course I didn't want any of the other sore faces around here bossing you around, so I asked that they give you a decently high clearance, pending the outcome of this test, which has worked out Stupendously, might I add."
"I'll say!" Terry the talking toaster, suddenly the pride of the foundation, chimed in.
the doctor stated as Ian found the page confirming the doctor's statement.
"And there's another experiment I want you to have a go at."
"Already?" Ian asked, finaly breaking his own silence.
Dan hummed in conformation, leaning on the counter as the toaster started smoking. He didn't seem to mind. "The higher ups don't want you sitting on your laurels if you can be helpful. They've been fighting over you all week, and of course, the higher higher ups want you to justify your usefulness. Frankly I think you've earned your tenure already but there are a few people who need convincing. And well, go big or go home…. Or die, theres that option too."
He didn't mean to threaten, he was just making a very dark observation.
A quiet "Ding" came from the toaster, followed by some hearty coughing and a sputtering of smoke as a blacked piece of toast was ejected from the machine. Dan picked it up and shook it to dispel the loose crumbling ashes of what used to be bread before immediately putting it into his mouth.
The Scot then flicked to the pages farther back in the file. He read over the SCP's report file. Then he reread it. He looked up to the doctor with a look of disbelief written on his face.
"Oh yeah. It's time to deal with the big boys now." He replied to Ian's silence, mouth still full of toast.
Ian gulped. This wouldn't be as easy as the two Euclids he had seen before.
This was a Keter.
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/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
A long chapter to conclude this part. I considered splitting it into two but HEY, that would mean you guys got less TERRY.
I'm aware the talking toaster is a bold choice. I don't have regrets. I hope you like him.
Next chapter is edging fully away from what I had already written and into completely new material. What does this mean? Litteraly nothing, but I am actually writing it so that's a plus right? I realy love that I keep getting comments on this old story, it just makes me feel good. No idea where you guys are coming from, but wherever it is, boy it must be a good place.
If you have any favourite SCP's, please suggest, so I can RUIN them with FRIENDSHIP and KINDNESS, HA!
