Andy Hawthorne

It was elevenses in the world of Cornelius Coffin. It might be the year 2027 and they were living in a dystopian nightmare. But there was still time for elevenses. 

So, Cornelius walked to the fake park and and sat on the fake bench. He ignored the AI-powered ducks that floated by. 

“You are not getting any of my snack, you rubber b—“ 

He stopped. There was a bollard nearby that would no doubt issue him a language violation. 

“Hahaha! Not this time, you stripy bugger!”

“Language Violation. Case 1009/1 filed.” Said the bollard. 

Cornelius twitched and shook. And wrote a note on his neural implant notes app. “I’m a fucking idiot! Stop swearing when there are protocol bollards around.”

He breathed out and calmed himself. And then opened up his steel lunchbox that was in the shape of an old world steam train. People laughed because it was a Childs toy. But he liked it. 

He ate his synthetic crips, smoky microchip flavoured. And he unscrewed his bottle of ‘Choke’. The corporate Zaponian version of what used to be a drink called ‘Coke’. 

Then, the grand finale. He unwrapped his cheese sandwich. Thick slabs of English Mature Cheddar on two slices and thick-sliced white bread. Glorious. 

What happened next, wasn’t quite what he imagined would happen that day. 

A Zaponian Law Transport came zooming in and four heavily armed Zaponians (they had weapons, their arms weren’t that heavy (eh?)) leapt out and surrounded him, pointing their blasters in his general direction and straight at him, as well. 

He nearly dropped his sandwich, which would have really pissed him off. 

“Human. What is that you have there?”

“A cheese sandwich, mate. Why?”

The lead Zap started twitching. So did his colleagues. They did this sort of twitching like they had itching powder down their alien underpants. 

“Protocol 100 violation. Humans MUST NOT consume the golden resource.”

“What?”

“You were about to ingest that human bread with golden resource, were you not?”

“If you mean I was going to eat my cheese sandwich, then yep. The whole thing—“

“NO. Protocol 100. Not allowed.”

“Why? It’s just cheese—“

“NO. It is the golden resource.”

“Well, technically, it is pale yellow—“

“Colour variations are not in the Zaporian optical range. It is golden. We are here on this planet to find out how to produce the golden resource.”

Cornelius stared. 

“WHAT? You invaded our planet just to learn how to make cheese?”

“NO. Not any cheese. Specifically the one you humans call ‘English Mature Cheddar’.”

Cornelius nearly dropped his sandwich again. Which pissed him off again. He swept his arm around the fake park, the lowlife slums and shiny towers of MegaCity1.

“You mean, you did all this, just for fucking cheese?”

“Language Viol—“

“Cancelled. Law Bot Alpha 12 in attendance.”

The bollard shut up. 

“Yes, we came after an Intergalactic traveller sold us some of your ‘cheese’ as you call it, on our home planet of Zapoia. We enjoyed it so much, we wanted more. And to learn how to make it.”

“Well, what do you know? But anyway, it’s nice chatting. But I’m on my break so can I eat my sandwich?”

“NO. We are requisitioning your lunch—“

“Like fuck you are! And bollard, your Law Bot mate is in charge, so bugger off.”

The bollard said nothing. 

The Law Bot moved closer. Cornelius could see its front sensors twitching. 

“Do you want a smell?” He said quietly. 

The Law Bot nodded. So Cornelius waved it under his sensors. The Law Bot breathed in. And sighed. 

“So what happens now?”

“Can I have half?”

“Of my sandwich?”

“Yes, and then I will dismiss the violation.”

Cornelius handed over half of his sandwich, the half with slightly less cheese. He wasn’t daft. 

“Case dismissed. Have a good day, citizen.”

The Law Bots boarded their transport and zoomed off. 

“I like cheese as well,” said the bollard. 

Cornelius packed his bag and walked away.