"Listen, you machine," he said, "you claim you can synthesize any

drink in existence, so why do you keep giving me the same

undrinkable stuff?"

"Nutrition and pleasurable sense data," burbled the machine.

"Share and Enjoy."

"It tastes filthy!"

"If you have enjoyed the experience of this drink," continued the

machine, "why not share it with your friends?"

"Because," said Arthur tartly, "I want to keep them. Will you try

to comprehend what I'm telling you? That drink ..."

"That drink," said the machine sweetly, "was individually

tailored to meet your personal requirements for nutrition and

pleasure."

"Ah," said Arthur, "so I'm a masochist on diet am I?"

"Share and Enjoy."

"Oh shut up."

"Will that be all?"

Arthur decided to give up.

"Yes," he said.

Then he decided he'd be dammed if he'd give up.

"No," he said, "look, it's very, very simple ... all I want ...

is a cup of tea. You are going to make one for me. Keep quiet and

listen."

And he sat. He told the Nutri-Matic about India, he told it about

China, he told it about Ceylon. He told it about broad leaves

drying in the sun. He told it about silver teapots. He told it

about summer afternoons on the lawn. He told it about putting in

the milk before the tea so it wouldn't get scalded. He even told

it (briefly) about the history of the East India Company.

"So that's it, is it?" said the Nutri-Matic when he had finished.

"Yes," said Arthur, "that is what I want."

"You want the taste of dried leaves boiled in water?"

"Er, yes. With milk."

"Squirted out of a cow?"