The ALL NEW dining hall has revamped itself with groundbreaking, precise feasting. I was told that no student is able to think of any prompts to feed their AI essay machines after their meals. The university has optimized the dining buffet to be completely automated, ensuring no one drinks a gallon over their allotted maximum. Robots will distribute portions that have been precisely calculated. On behalf of The Beep, your correspondent has taken a chance to indulge in this cutting-edge campus facility to find out more.
“How will such a specific amount of fuel be calculated?” I spoke with some of the speech-capable robotic staff. “Ingredients will undergo centrifuge and become separated distortions of their prior structures,” one replied. Once the liquid has been extracted, it can be doled out to hungry students with the steady paw of a surgeon. Some of the robots appear to be misprogrammed, and may release a gallon over the allotted amount. Luckily, bowls are equipped with extremely sensitive postal-grade scales and horns from now obsolete bus models. If overloaded, the bowl will start blaring so as to alert the dining staff to correct their mistake. This kind of service is extremely precipitous!
Beyond a dizzying array of possible pastes, slurries, and gels to choose from (one of which was suspiciously foreboded by the bland taste of SFU’s signature cucumber sushi years ago), the dining hall has concocted a true architectural feat of ingenuity. One of the robot staff said that there’s no need for public vehicles; all of the metal here was repurposed from scrapped 145s and R5s. Eclectically selected materials have been masterfully welded into a fish-scale design of sorts. Continuing a pattern of resourcefulness, the lack of wooden furniture was explained by the university’s decision to burn them all. In order to conserve heat, “the new dining hall has maximized efficiency by modeling itself after an attic crawlspace to reduce vertical area,” another animatronic confided. I feel extra secure in my 5 ft 6 inch stature as my head nearly grazes the ceiling, and I enjoyed the standing tables crafted from repurposed gym floors. “They have a dual function,” I was told. Not only am I invigorating my robotic body’s nearly-inactive metabolic system as I pace in place, I am providing valuable biometric data to the dining hall.
The only things that remain for the nearly extinct species that are human students, staff, and faculty are gruel and the soft-serve machine.
The Beep selected me for this assignment because I have no declared allergies or conditions; the soft-serve machine required a risk awareness consent form. I patiently watch a robot swirl what looks like milk mixed with the remains of the North Towers and smile, knowing that the university has balanced sustainability, technology, and refuse in this state-of-the-art dining hall. Take that, UBC.
