No. 9 — The Output that Tasted like Broccoli

We’ll always need humans: to say what we like… and what we definitely don’t!

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Some machines seem to know everything.

They guess your favorite song, recommend the perfect fruit, and tell you exactly when it’s going to rain.

But here’s the thing: machines can’t read minds.

They need clear instructions — a where, a when, a yes please… and a no thanks.

Because without human input, even the “right” answer can turn out all wrong.

This story is about that.

About a fruit-loving robot, a patient vendor, and a customer named Zerus who learns that if you don’t say what you want… you might end up with broccoli.

Because even the smartest machine needs something only you can give: your voice.

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The Output that Tasted like Broccoli

Ona, wearing her cleanest apron (because it was Tuesday), looked up from the register.

“Ready for another day of fruits and veggies.”

Beside her, her new robot assistant rolled into place behind the counter. Its claws sparkled like freshly sharpened knives.

“Vitaminator-3000,” Ona said in a serious tone, “take note: today is August 15th, we’re in the northern hemisphere, in a tiny mountain village…”

That morning, Vitaminator-3000 had already had “context issues.”

One bit had asked for “something for a snack,” and with all the good intentions in the world, the robot served up a giant plate of pickles.

Then another bit had asked for “something light,” and convinced it had made the perfect choice… it handed over a whole cabbage.

Ona sighed. "This robot had plenty of data — but not enough clues."

Just then, Zerus appeared in the doorway. He walked in like he owned the place, with his loyal-customer smile.

“Good morning, dear fruit lady! How are you today?”

“Good morning, dear customer! Very well, thank you. What can I get you?”

“Today I have one mission: only fruits and veggies that are in season. It’s my mega plan to help save the planet!”

Vitaminator-3000 blinked green lights as it processed the request. Then, in the voice of a village fair loudspeaker, it announced:

“OUTPUT OF THE DAY: Melon, watermelon, peach, nectarine, plum, fig, early pear, early apple, grape, blackberry, raspberry… tomato, pepper, zucchini, cucumber, eggplant, green beans, lettuce, carrot, sweet corn… and broccoli.”

Zerus froze — then jumped like he’d stepped on a power plug.

“But I don’t like broccoli!”

Ona leaned on the counter.

“Of course, Zerus. But if you don’t tell the machine, it won’t know. It runs on input — on what we give it.”

And yes, Ona was right. It happens all the time. Like when you ask your tablet for something “happy” and it plays heavy metal. Which, okay, is awesome… but not what you needed for your living room concert, right?

Vitaminator-3000 tilted its head and asked, very seriously:

“Confirmation process initiated: ‘Broccoli’ is…

a) a vegetable,

b) an insult,

c) a local holiday?”

“All three at once!” Zerus shouted, as if broccoli were the worst villain in the galaxy.

He paused to think.

How could he explain to a machine that broccoli was his archenemy?

He scratched his head.

Looked at the robot. Then at Ona.

And then… he had an idea.

He climbed onto a cardboard box, pulled an enormous funnel from his pocket (the size of an umbrella), and stuck it into the robot’s data slot.

“Broccoli-IN! Let’s see if this works: Zerus. Does. Not. Like. Broccoli.”

Vitaminator-3000 let out a happy beep.

A broccoli icon appeared on its screen — with a giant red X.

“Information updated.”

Zerus grinned from antenna to antenna.

“Now you’re a robot I can trust.”

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Big Questions for Small Thinkers

• Why did the Vitaminator-3000 give broccoli to Zerus if he didn’t want it?

• What do you think happens when you don’t explain clearly to a machine (or a person) what you really want?

• Can you think of a time when you asked for something but got something else because you didn’t explain it well? What did you learn from that?