Scene: The Reception Desk, Fawlty Towers.
Basil: [Holding a sleek, futuristic CAPTCHA device.] "Right, Sybil. Apparently, we need this infernal gadget for 'modern security.' Some clever clogs sent it over, probably to torment me personally."
Sybil: [Not looking up from her magazine.] "It's a simple security system, Basil. Even you can handle it."
Basil: "Simple? Simple? It’s a satanic contraption designed to humiliate me! Look at this—'Select all the images with bicycles.' There are no bicycles, Sybil! Just blurry smudges that could be wheels...or bagels!"
Sybil: [Sighs.] "Let Manuel do it."
Basil: [Snapping.] "Manuel?! The man thinks a CAPTCHA is a tapas dish!"
Manuel enters, carrying a tray of drinks.
Basil: "Ah, there he is. The answer to my CAPTCHA conundrum. Manuel, come here!"
Manuel: "Sí, Mr. Fawlty! You want...uh...what is this?"
Basil: "This device. It's a test. A game. Look at the pictures and select the bicycles!"
Manuel: [Peering intently.] "Ah, sí! I see...bicycles!"
Basil: "Wonderful! Tap them then!"
Manuel: [Presses the screen multiple times.] "Done!"
CAPTCHA Device: "Error: Please try again."
Basil: [Erupting.] "What do you mean 'error'? What bicycles did you select?!"
Manuel: [Proudly.] "The cars with bicycles on roof, sí?"
Basil: "Cars on roofs?! This isn’t Barcelona, you cretin!"
Major enters, intrigued by the commotion.
Major: "Fascinating machine, Fawlty. Is it some sort of newfangled telegraph?"
Basil: [Through gritted teeth.] "No, Major. It's a CAPTCHA! A puzzle! To prove we’re not robots!"
Major: "Robots, eh? Dashed clever, these days. Met a chap once who built one. Ran off with his wife, though—dreadful business."
A Woke Hipster guest approaches the desk, overhearing.
Hipster: "Oh, CAPTCHA? Love it! A brilliant metaphor for digital oppression. Did you know the CAPTCHA system exploits human labour for free image recognition? Truly dystopian."
Basil: [Spinning around.] "Ah, marvellous! A lecture from the morally enlightened. Do you want a room or to liberate my CAPTCHA device?"
Hipster: [Smirking.] "I’m here to check in, actually."
Basil hands them the device.
Hipster: [Effortlessly completes the CAPTCHA.] "There. Done. It’s not hard if you’re woke."
Basil: [Deadpan.] "Oh, splendid. Perhaps I should wake up too. Wake up and strangle myself!"
CAPTCHA device glitches.
CAPTCHA Device: [Robotic voice.] "Access Denied. Prove you’re human."
Basil: [Throws the device across the room.] "I’m as human as it gets, you impertinent piece of junk!"
Sybil: [Finally looking up.] "Basil, if you’ve broken that, it’s coming out of your pay."
Manuel: "Mr. Fawlty, I can fix! I unplug and—" [Proceeds to accidentally unplug the entire reception computer system.]
Basil: [Screaming.] "Manuel! Sybil! Hipsters! CAPTCHAS! WHY IS NOTHING SIMPLE?!"
Basil: [Pointing at Manuel, who’s now tangled in the unplugged wires.] "You’ve ruined everything, you Iberian imbecile! Do you even understand the concept of technology?"
Manuel: [Holding up the unplugged CAPTCHA device triumphantly.] "Mr. Fawlty, I fix it! I put it in rice!"
Basil: "Put it in rice?! It’s not a soggy watch, you culinary catastrophe!"
Sybil: [Now fully invested, arms crossed.] "You’re making a scene, Basil."
Basil: "Oh, I’m making a scene? I suppose the guests come here for the Basil Fawlty floor show! Just wait, Sybil—I’ll juggle the toaster next!"
Major peers over Manuel’s shoulder at the device.
Major: [Squinting.] "You know, that gadget looks an awful lot like the German mine detectors we used in North Africa. Could be dangerous."
Basil: [Sputtering.] "It’s a CAPTCHA device, Major, not a ruddy bomb!"
Major: "Still, best give it a poke and see if it ticks. Stand back, everyone!"
Major grabs a spoon from Manuel’s tray and taps the device. It emits a loud robotic buzz.
CAPTCHA Device: "Access Denied. Suspicious activity detected. Activating lockdown."
Basil: [Frozen, horrified.] "Did that infernal contraption just say 'lockdown'?"
Sybil: [Smirking.] "Looks like you’ve done it now, Basil."
Manuel: [Panicked.] "What is ‘lockdown’? Is it bad?"
Basil: "Bad?! Oh, no, Manuel, it’s wonderful! The doors seal shut, the oxygen levels plummet, and we all perish while the CAPTCHA smugly declares itself the sole survivor!"
The doors of the hotel audibly click as a robotic voice booms from hidden speakers.
Hotel Voice: "Security lockdown activated. Please remain calm."
Hipster: [Thrilled.] "Incredible! The system is asserting dominance. It’s a critique of capitalist overreach! We’re witnessing history!"
Basil: "Oh, are we? Well, why don’t we carve it on your headstone, you sanctimonious beanpole!"
Meanwhile, Polly arrives, holding a toolbox.
Polly: "What’s going on here?"
Sybil: "Basil let the CAPTCHA device take over the hotel."
Polly: [Snorting.] "You’ve outdone yourself, Mr Fawlty."
Basil: "Oh, marvellous! Another backseat commentator! Why don’t we all line up to criticise me while the hotel transforms into HAL 9000?"
Polly: [Ignoring him, inspecting the device.] "I can probably bypass this."
Polly begins tinkering, while Manuel leans in unhelpfully.
Manuel: "Miss Polly, maybe I hit it with the spoon?"
Polly: [Glances at him.] "Manuel, go and get some tea."
Manuel: "For you or the machine?"
Polly: "Just...go."
The Major, fascinated, pulls Basil aside.
Major: "Fawlty, do you suppose this is the start of the machine uprising?"
Basil: "I don’t care if it’s the start of the Mayan apocalypse, Major! I just want it gone!"
Major: "We had a chap in the regiment who swore robots would take over one day. Spent hours talking to his electric kettle. Dreadful business."
Suddenly, Polly manages to deactivate the lockdown.
Hotel Voice: "System rebooting."
Polly: "There. Fixed it. Though it might ask for another CAPTCHA."
Basil: [Eyes widening.] "Another CAPTCHA? No! No more bicycles, no more traffic lights, no more—"
CAPTCHA Device: "Identify all squares with...Canadian geese."
Basil: [Collapsing against the desk.] "Oh, good Lord. Take me now."
Manuel: [Peering at the screen.] "Mr. Fawlty, is goose like a big chicken? I don’t see any."
Basil: [Screaming.] "Nobody sees any, Manuel! That’s the point! It’s a Kafkaesque nightmare masquerading as security!"
Just then, the CAPTCHA device beeps approvingly.
CAPTCHA Device: "Human verified."
Basil: [Hysterical laughter.] "Human! I’ve been declared human! Oh, Sybil, tell the papers!"
Sybil: [Shaking her head.] "I’m married to a lunatic."
