[ WP ] In the future , humanity has developed personal technology which enables any implantee to seemingly act magic . Machines take care of everything , and everyone has forgotten all about science and has no concept of it .

In the year 3021, wraps and burritos had become the lunch of choice for many Americans. Sandwiches were passe now; their crumbs made too much of a mess, and this posed a problem when the standard human body had more crevices to infiltrate than ever before. If the thought of injecting bread into your bloodstream sounds gruesome, imagine hundreds of tiny crumbs rubbing against your circuitry, burning out your processors, padding up against the inside of your neck, wracking whatever was left of your brain with headaches until you eventually went to a mechanic. 
 
 We called these types of malfunctions `` crumbs,'' an etymological nod to the story of the first computer bug. Everyone had heard horror stories of crumbs, and most people shied away from bread, cookies, and other messy foods for this reason. But today, Meg wanted a sandwich. She pointed at her plate, and the material transmitter embedded in her index finger summoned two slices of bread, an assortment of deli meats, and some toppings. Meg could've procured a pre-prepared sandwich, but the old-fashioned streak within her compelled her to assemble it from scratch. She set to work, arranging the contents in an aesthetically pleasing manner and topping it off with some finger-produced mustard. 
 
 As she bit into her creation, a spray of crumbs fell and landed in the crack marking the juncture of her chest pad and neck framework. For a few moments, she felt nothing and continued to munch on her sandwich. Then, the pain began. 
 
 Meg doubled down to the floor clutching her throat. Sparks crackled between her fingers. Heat began to swell within her. `` Help!'' she cried into her cerebral phone, `` I'm burning up!'' 
 
 A robotic voice answered her. `` Have you tried turning your body on and off again?'' 
 
 The system was not responding. `` No! I can't—'' Her thoughts choked in their processors, consumed by the heat. Acrid steam billowed from her nostrils. 
 
 `` Have you tried running a virus scan?'' 
 
 Fire erupted from the seams connecting Meg's shoulders to her neck. Her body tried to run the extinguishing program, but everything was shutting down. Meg screamed, trying to stuff the fire back into her body, only to brand her palms with angry weals. More flames erupted from the cracks between her joints. She ran around her kitchen, colliding off the walls, against the sink, into the refrigerator, anything to try and stop the burning. The flames leapt from her body, spreading up the walls and through the room. Meg finally slumped to the floor, exhausted, aflame, and mechanically all-but-dead. 
 
 The metallic voice rang in her head. `` Please hold while we connect you to one of our mechanics.''
