Your choice changes what happens next
The escaping teapot
On her third shift at the Borrowed Gravity Cafe, sixteen-year-old Isha caught a teapot by its handle while Niko caught the spout. Spoons rose between them. Beyond the window, the planet Pel looked beautifully unconcerned. Mint counters, coral stools and chrome lamps made the orbital cafe look cheerful about this deeply unprofessional event. "We said lighter refreshments," Niko told the ceiling. "Not this."
Pip, their small box-shaped service robot, raised both arms. One secured the empty pot; the other presented a receipt. The floor field still held people down, but the separate table field had stopped holding crockery. Pip closed the food covers. Station choir leader Mara expected twelve breakfasts in twenty minutes. Manager Omi answered from a supplier queue and authorised Isha to choose the response. "Tell me what you need." Isha needed yesterday. Failing that, the receipt or the guests might help.