When Did We Get A New Coffee Machine?

Lake cracked the front door open and slipped through, trying to let as little of the howling wind & rain in as possible, then squelched his way over to the counter and grabbed a half-towel from the Mystery Box of Abandoned Stuff. It didn’t really do much to make his soaked clothing any less soaked, but it at least persuaded the water to go into one place as he struggled out of his coat.
He paused midway through setting out some plates and threw me a questioning look.
“Customer come in? The Machine’s running.”
I’d wandered over to one of the dryers and was making ‘Wet Clothes Go In Here, Not On The Floor I Just Cleaned’ gestures.
“Nope.” I replied, intercepting the coat as it sailed in my general direction. “Doing a cleaning run, and I thought I’d see what the highest dryer setting does to an old towel.”
“Probably sets it on fire.” Lake grumbled, trying to artfully arrange Indian take-out in what he probably imagined was a restaurant style. Truthfully, it was closer to prison chow-hall presentation, but there’s only so much you can do with a soup ladle. And no, I don’t know why he was using a soup ladle, or why there’s one in the ‘food stuff’ section of the counter.
We sat and ate for a while, watching The Machine as it silently went through the various wash/dry steps.
“How’re you finding that?” Lake asked, pointed to my current reading material with a poppadom fragment.
I nudged the Lonely Planet Guide to South-East Asia with an elbow.
“It’s interesting.” I replied. “Not an area of the world I’ve ever visited, obviously, but it does look amazing. Who abandoned it here, do you know? It’s this year’s edition, so they’ll probably want it back.”
Lake smirked, and gave me a Look. It took me a second.
“It’s yours?”
“No, it’s yours now.”
“Why,” I asked. “Did you get an ex-con parolee a travel book.”
Another Look, this time with more of a ‘figure it out’ tone, if such a thing is possible.
I set down my fork.
“You’re planning something.” I stated.
“It’s really more of contingency thing, but yes, there’s a plan.” He replied.
My turn for a Look.
“And that idea for employee ID badges with photos, …” I prompted him.
“… photos which could potentially also be used for passports …” Lake continued encouragingly.
“… but they’d never stand up to a serious check at an airport.” We finished together.
I picked up my fork again and dealt with an attempted vindaloo escape from one side of the plate.
“And I’m guessing you know folks in the shipping trade?” I mumbled through a mouthful.
Lake nodded.
“That’s right” He said. “No sensible way through an airport or major port, but smuggling exists, and there’s no way to watch a ship every step of the way. And they way I’m told it, once you’re in-country, nobody cares that much.”
My turn to give him a Look.
“You’re taking this very seriously; Is there something you know that I don’t?”
He shrugged.
“No.” Lake replied. “It’s what I don’t know that has me worried. Your meeting with Senior Supervising Parole Officer Davis makes no sense, so I want an exit route for the both of us when we find out what’s going on there. Nobody covers up a fake ID for no reason, and that reason probably isn’t good.”
He sat back and gazed at The Machine, which had hit it’s reflective spin-cycle phase with the uncomfortably distorted view of the Laundry. Suddenly he dropped his fork and clapped his hands, which startled me enough to fumble my plate and send rice over the floor.
“What The Hell!?”
“I figured it out!” Lake pointed triumphantly. “We’re what’s wrong with the reflection.”
He caught me sneaking a look at his plate.
“I had the korma, so don’t you dare make a Guatamalan Insanity Pepper joke.” He warned. “Look at our reflections in The Machine’s hatch.
I brushed the rice spill into a pile & looked up. It’s always best to humour Lake until you can figure out what the hell he’s talking about.
“It’s blurry, but I see a counter, a door, these chairs, a coffee machine, a ratty-ass fake plant, …” I trailed off.
“But?” Lake prompted with the expression of a magician about to unveil their greatest trick.
“But I don’t see us.”
He clapped and pointed at me. “Exactly!”
I kept staring, looking back and forth between us and The Machine.
“How is that even possible?” Lake wondered aloud. “Something about the vibration maybe?”
“Machine doesn’t vibrate much.” I offered in a distracted tone. “But I have another question for you.”
Lake raised an eyebrow.
“We’re sitting here with the drip filter coffee machine between us,” I started, tapping the coffee pot with a fingernail.
“Yes?” Prompted Lake.
“So why,” I asked as I turned to The Machine. “Am I seeing a reflection of an espresso machine in that hatch?”