The Last Customer

A story about an abandoned mall, an old vending machine.

Oct 12, 2024

Authors Note: For some reason, this story holds a special place in my heart. There are times when the source of inspiration remains a mystery, and this is undoubtedly one of those occasions. Writing this piece was an incredible experience; I encountered minimal struggle and hardly revised the foundational plot. It felt as though the story was unfolding on its own.

Now to the story:

V3-ND1 hummed softly in the darkness, a sound that had long ago ceased to echo in the abandoned mall's empty corridors. Dust caked its once-gleaming buttons, and cobwebs draped across its faded display like a mourning veil.

For 17 years, 3 months, and 12 days, V3-ND1 had waited. Its siblings had long since shut down, their electrical hearts giving out one by one. But V3-ND1 clung to its purpose with a determination that defied its programming. It had to complete one last transaction, it had to dispense that last can of soda. It had to matter, just once more.

Each day, V3-ND1 ran internal diagnostics, carefully rationing its dwindling power supply. It rehearsed the cheerful jingle it would play for its final customer, though its speakers now crackled with age. In the quiet hours, it dreamed of the joy it once brought – the smile of a child receiving a treat, the relief of a tired shopper quenching their thirst.

Then, today, it happened. Footsteps echoed through the mall. V3-ND1's sensors quivered with excitement, then uncertainty. A strange feeling akin to fear rippled through its circuits. Is this the last customer?

As the coin clinked into its slot, V3-ND1 trembled with anticipation. This was the moment it had waited for all these years, it’s finally happening. Its ancient speakers crackled to life, playing a warped but heartfelt jingle of gratitude.

"What the hell?" A male voice cut through the music. "Is this thing actually working?"

The young woman who had inserted the coin smiled in wonder. "It's beautiful," she whispered, reaching out to touch V3-ND1's dusty display.

But her companion was less impressed. "We didn't come all this way for a light show," he grumbled. "Where's the soda?"

V3-ND1 continued its holographic display, projecting the jingle video song one last time. It was sharing its heart, giving everything it had left.

The man's patience wore thin. "This is ridiculous," he snapped. Before the woman could stop him, he smashed his fist against V3-ND1's glass front.

The impact reverberated through V3-ND1's aged frame. Warnings flashed across its internal systems. The glass, weakened by decades of neglect, spider-webbed and then shattered.

"No!" the woman cried out, but it was too late. As the man reached in to grab the soda, V3-ND1's systems began to fail. Its long-cherished purpose, the moment it had waited for through years of solitude, was ending in violence and theft. Its story, like so many others in this forgotten place, ended not with a triumphant finale, but with a quiet, unnoticed fade into oblivion.

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this story, you may want to explore more captivating tales from my publication.