Spark. You can almost see the mental infrastructure slide into place, layer after layer of it, with more clarity and care than she dressed her body. Lenses flick and filter. Alternate ways of viewing the world. Put aside this part of her. Energize other parts. Personality aspects flicker to life one after another, surging into her body like a fork in the Sprocket.

The first that achieves clarity is one of puritan disgust. It eyes the cup suspiciously, takes off the lid, lifts a little of the liquid from the surface with a teaspoon. Spreads it on the empty plate, considering its colour and visciousity. Finally, a ginger little taste on the tip of the spoon. A second. Consideration. And then a click-flick as the second lens engages. 

"You have ordered me a caffinated hot chocolate," it says. 

A third factor engages. It takes a huge swig.

"I love hot chocolate," it said. "I understand the insult implicit, but this is the cup an emperor would drink from! Spices and honey and the finest of creams, collected from foreign lands and blended together by instructions issued through the astral! I could not refuse! Although -"

A neural monitor comes out. One patch on her neck, on her forehead, her wrist. Click-flick. "- I have not tested the application of caffine on my own metabolism. I've set the parameters of my recovery cycles extensively by hand. I can't even use your data as a model, I had to branch your cubeprint after it became clear that you weren't going to switch to decaf. When working at tolerances already extended - you see this scar?" she held up her left hand - a clean white line right across it. "Long dumb story, but I learned that energy drinks are [i]hazardous [/i]when I am already tapping energy directly from the source."

Click-flick. "But I might need to adjust your cubeprint further if six cups is normal for your breakfast. That is... more than I calculated for."