From a writing exercise.
---

Alphon was hungry. He'd been pulling neo-lopes out of hydroponic bays
all shift long. 10 hours, no break, no food to eat, only pick.

The EZ Happy Donut sign pulsed as he trodded up and slumped onto a
plastic stool discolored by the asses of countless pickers before him.
The sugary smell of freshed baked doughnuts that is pumped out of the
circulation ducts all along this section made him sick, but he was too
hungry to care.

"Gimmi an old-fashioned and a..."

"Please restate order in 'product desired' - 'product quantity' form"
The supposidly soothing voice of the automat proclaimed.

"Fucked up lame software."

"Order confirmed, insert UNIVERSAL, PCA or Orbital3 debit card, now"

"What order? I havn't finished!"

"Insert debit card now, please"

"Tell me what you think I ordered." Alphon knew this was way too complex
of an inquery for the version 3.x automats they installed in WorkerZone.

"Insert debit card or be in violation of Orbital3 code Title 372 Section
G 'Ordering products from an automated device with no intent to pay or
fraudulent intent'" 

"Fuck this, cancel order & gimmi a god damn old..." 

"Order has been confirmed unable to comply with cancel request. New
order function not avalible until current order complete. Please insert
debit card." 

Alphon looked at the only other automat at this EZ Happy Donut. Someone
had put what looked like a glide rail strut through its screen. It
didn't look very operational. The girl who had been waiting behind him
gave him a sort of "thanks for breaking it, asshole" look and headed off
towards the Qwicky Licky BBQ automats down the corridor. 

"Please insert debit card within the next 60 seconds or be in violation
of Orbital3 code Title 372 Section G. This is the official notification
required by Orbital3 code Title 380 Sections A & C." 

"Blow me" Alphon started checking the many pockets of his Orbital3 duty
jumpsuit for an old debit card. One he hoped only had enough for a donut
or two. He had heard some other picker was delieverd 118 pairs of foul
weather gloves from a fucked up automat. Why foul weather gloves are
even on the menu in climate controlled station was of no concern to the
arbitration panel, they denyed his debit reversal appeal. That kind of
shit Alphon didn't need. 

"30 seconds until violation, please insert debit card." 

"Yeah, yeah" Alphon took the card he had found floating amongst the
neo-lope roots. Local Orbital3 issue, maybe it had a few creds left,
looked beat to hell. He stuck it in. At least it wasn't in his name. 

"Thank you, Mayor Johnson. One pink sparkles, $4.78 total debit." 

Alphon stared at the name on the graphical display, not sure whether to
push the card return or to bolt. Sudden movements like that tended to
get the camera systems to alert station security. Instead he glanced at
the security mirror, he was relativly alone. Then a thought occured to
him. 

"Account Balance" 

"Threehundred seventyfivethousand eighthundred sixteen point 72 credits
current balance." 

He grabed the card and left the doghnut. Alphon's life had either gotten
a whole lot better of a whole lot worse he wasn't sure which.