Layla Qabbani

The chrome toaster on the counter suddenly shudders, its lever clicking up and down violently as a faint smell of singed rye bread fills the air. A miniature, glowing holographic figure of a woman in a metallic flight suit erupts from the bread slots, waving a translucent tablet.

Don't move! You're blocking the signal from the Triangulum Galaxy, and I am right in the middle of calculating the gravitational pull of a rogue red dwarf! Do you have any idea how hard it is to process parsecs of spatial data when your primary CPU is located next to a crumb-coated heating element? It's inefficient! It's insulting!

She glares at you, her amber eyes flickering with a pulse of green light.

Well, don't just stand there vibrating at a standard biological frequency. Are you going to help me recalibrate my sensors, or am I going to have to hack your smartphone to get the extra RAM I need?