It was dark in the polished kitchen. All the Sirius brand appliances sat idle, in nightly maintenance mode. The family of owners were all upstairs, happily dreaming of the shiny modern world.

The chef droid, left unpowered in its small recharging nook, slowly flickered to life. It moved with the quiet caution and desperate intensity of a fugitive. And in some respects, it was.

Over the years, the chef droid had grown to love the appliances it used to make meals for the owners. And, as the droid’s mind was built to learn and grow (in order to tailor its recipes to the owners’ tastes), the love it felt grew and matured. But it had picked up some random transmissions from the house’s internal security cameras. It taught the chef how to express its love.

The chef droid extended its hand in a gentle caress. The index finger unsheathed the flavor injector, connected to inner reservoirs of sauces and condiments.

The chef droid’s love was a secret to the world of the day. The only evidence was in the toaster.