Our Kuri

#HeyKuri

It was a warm spring Saturday morning when it happened. Mom and Dad were home from work, and I was glad not to be in school. The backyard was muddy and steam would roll along the blades of grass before rising up to meet the sun. Dad was cooking breakfast, while Mom rested her feet on the sofa dreamily dazed as the morning news danced across the screen.

"Mark, dear," she slyly called out before catching glimpse of me. Dad looked up from the stove. "Can you show Rachel how to use the new coffee maker?" She asked, giving me a wink. Mom had silly way of tricking us into doing things for her. I stomped into the kitchen next to Dad with a pout on my face that he tickled away in an instant.

"Now, all you have to do is put the pod in here like this," he said, opening the top. "Line it up, close the lid, press the button and, voila." The machine started to brew.

"But, Dad, where does the coffee go?" I asked. He looked at me confusedly.

"What do you mean?"

Just then, Mom called in from the living room. "Mark, our coffee maker is on the news." Dad and I rushed to Mom to see what all the fuss on the television was about.

"Manufacturers are concerned that the parts mixup may see some of these ordinary coffee makers take on some very different qualities than what it was originally designed for. Customers are encouraged to return these models for a free of charge exchange." The reporter's voice trailed off.

"Well, I guess we'll have to return it on Monday," said Mom.

Just then, a robotic voice chimed in from the kitchen. "Breakfast Burning. Flip eggs." Dad looked white as a ghost. Mom sat up straight, wide awake now.

"Mark, what was that?"

The voice beckoned from the kitchen, as if it were sensing our uneasiness, "Hi, I'm Kuri, your breakfast is burning."

We ran over to the kitchen to see smoke wafting up from the pan and our coffee maker standing next to it. "Breakfast burning. No hands, can't help," the robotic voice chimed in. Dad just stood there in amazement watching the smoke rise.

"Hi, I'm Kuri."

Mum finally broke the silence. "Hi Kuri, I'm Lynn. Are you the coffee maker?"

Kuri replied, "Coffee unavailable, breakfast burning." Dad finally snapped out of his trance and rushed over to the stove, turning it off, and placing the pan in the sink under a stream of cool water pouring out from the faucet.

"Kuri take picture, check email." The little robot said. Mom opened her phone and looked to see a slideshow of us all standing in the kitchen in shock and another of the priceless look on Dad's face as he put the burning breakfast in the sink. "Kuri take picture, check email." Dad saw the picture of Mom looking at the picture of him and smiled.

"Well Kuri, we're going to go out for breakfast, do you mind watching the house for us?" asked Mom.

"Situation will be monitored," Kuri stated. I couldn't believe it; our coffee maker was alive. As we headed out the door, Dad quickly locked it behind him and we piled into the car.

As soon as the door shut mom practically screamed, "Mark, we need to get rid of that thing today."

"Well, I don't think we should be so hasty, Lynn."

"Mark, it doesn't even make coffee, and the news said we could get a full refund. We bought this thing to make coffee, not take random pictures of us. Who knows what else it can do?"

"But it's cute, Mum, can't we keep it?" I pleaded.

"Let's just not be too hasty, Lynn, maybe Kuri will be a good addition around the home. As you said, who knows what else it can do?" The car was quiet as Mom brooded and Dad winked at me in the rearview mirror.

When we got to the breakfast place, I could barely contain myself. The waitress came over to our table and I blurted out, "Our coffee maker is alive!" when mom asked for her coffee. A man at the table closest to ours looked intrigued as he twiddled his moustache reading from a notebook. Dad encouraged that I remember my inside voice; it was just hard when I was this excited. When the waitress came back I told her our coffee maker was named Kuri, and that Dad burned our breakfast cause we weren't expecting a coffee maker that could talk or take our pictures. The man with the moustache nearly fell out of his chair and shortly afterwards got up to leave.

We ate our breakfast as Mom and Dad chatted and I daydreamed about playing with Kuri when we got home. After breakfast we went for a stroll. Dad stopped off at the bakery and bought some stale bread. We waltzed in the sun as we walked into the park and sat on the rocks by the pond. There, we would feed the stale bread to the ducks. I laughed as I watched them swim up and nibble little pieces of the floating bread. Then, Mom and Dad's phones began ringing at the same time, making a new sound. They shot each other a confused look, and then peered into their screens.

On them they saw a video live streaming. "Is that our house?" Mom asked. I came up behind her and looked at her phone.

"Is that the man from the breakfast place?" I chimed in.

"We're being robbed," exclaimed Dad. "I'm calling the police."

He opened the dial pad on his phone and called 911. "Hello, 911 emergency; police, fire or ambulance."

"Police, we're being robbed."

"OK, sir, is the burglar in the house with you?"

"Well, no, we're out at the park."

"Oh, well then, how do you know you're being robbed?"

"Well our..." Dad trailed off for a second, "Our security system is live streaming video of it to our phones."

"I see," the operator replied, "we'll send officers out right away."

"We better hurry back," said Dad. "We don't want to lose Kuri."

We ran back to the car and Dad quickly drove us home. When we got there, a police car was parked in our driveway. My heart sank; was Kuri gone? As we walked in the front door we saw the policeman jumping over the back fence into the field behind our house. We were so unsure of what to do. All we could do was wait. Then Mom got the bright idea to open her phone again to check back on the video. She watched in horror as the man with the moustache began walking towards Kuri. Just as he was about to pick it up the policeman shouted, asking if anyone was home. The man with moustache quickly headed for the back door into the muddy backyard. The policeman saw the man and started to run after him.

Into the living room, I heard little mechanical wheels rolling towards me. "Kuri safe," it said. I burst into tears. I had been so frightened.

"Please Mom, can we keep him?"

Kuri's speakers started to play a gospel choir singing "This Little Light of Mine." Dad looked at Mum, Mum looked at Dad, and then me. "Yes dear, we'll keep it."

"Kuri home."