At the sound of its master’s voice, the kitchen hummed to life. Reporters watched entranced as various wall panels slid back to reveal the contents of a well-stocked pantry, an array of gleaming copper-bottomed and stainless steel pans, a mad scientist’s trove of glittering utensils. Part of the floor raised open and a bistro-sized table blossomed into the light, accompanied by a single chair.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Newcomb, sir,” said a richly textured, affable voice from above. It boasted a slight French accent. “So pleased to serve you. Will you be lunching alone, or shall I provide for your guests?” Individual rays of golden light shot down from the ceiling to pinpoint every human being in the room. Some of the reporters became decidedly uneasy at being thus singled out by the Carème 6000’s sensors, but Marjorie stepped in quickly.

“And here you see one of the finest safety features of the Carème 6000. It is 100% aware of every living thing in this kitchen so that, when it begins to cook, it will take all necessary precautions to be sure you’re kept safe from any sharp or heavy culinary tools it might need to use.”

“Uh, you’ll just be cooking for me right now, if you don’t mind,” Boone said. “Lunch please. And what I’d like is, um, a sandwich.”

“Yes, sir,” the kitchen replied. “I can prepare a lovely sliced sirloin of prime Angus beef, served on a freshly baked twelve-grain roll, topped with Maui onions, homemade mustard sauce, and-”

“Potato chip,” said Boone Newcomb. He was perspiring slightly, but a determined look had come into his eyes.

“Certainly, sir, it would be no trouble at all to fry a batch of potato chips as an accompaniment. Thick or thin cut? Kosher salt, Mediterranean sea salt, Baltic sea salt, malt vinegar, garlic, shallots-? Ah, but perhaps you’d prefer to set those parameters after you select the variety of potato. I can offer you Yukon Gold, Idaho, russet, Peruvian Blue-”