#*echo wallace

Do-it-yourself coffee machines. Echo gets it. It’s homey. It’s cheap. It’s practically an unofficial official staple of the businessman. It’s cute. But that coffee looks like dirty rain water and he’s not totally convinced that it isn’t.

The other raises his cup, about to take a sip, when Echo intervenes with a very empathetic, heartfelt:

          “You must wonder “Why did Echo Wallace give an alarm clock a mind?” constantly. I would, if I weren’t me. And even as me--my very clever self--I did. I had to. Was it to make life simpler, to make time easier to manage, to give you an immortal companion, an ear that has to listen? No. Wrong. To give you something to yell at. People love to be angry. You buy a thing meant to wake you up early in the morning and then yell or groan or swat at it for doing the thing you bought it for. The ludicrousness in that, huh? But a normal clock doesn’t listen to all that. All it cares about is whether or not you push its one button--snooze. So I give unto you an alarm clock with all sorts of physical and mental buttons you can push. Yell at it and it’s no longer just cathartic, it’s a command.”

Echo lets his little speech settle. Demeanor still and serious. Then a smile and laugh breaks out on his face.

          “That was pretty good, huh? Pretty believable. A bouquet of lies. It’s for the CEOs.”