The Truffle Case

Ernest talked to the invisible cameras as he cooked his breakfast.
"I hope you can smell this," he said cheerfully, "I hope you know what you're missing out on. Fresh eggs and cheese, a bit of bacon, a good omelette to start the day off..."
Sarah sighed, because it looked so much more appetising than her own cold-toast breakfast.
Alice sighed, because the lens of the kitchen's camera had steamed over, and they had to switch to an alternate viewpoint.
"I thought they'd installed defoggers?" She complained.
"On some units. Priority cases."
"Isn't Truffle a priority case?"
"To be honest, I don't think so." Sarah shrugged. "He would become one the moment he showed any hostile inclination. I think he's more of a novelty to them than anything else. They keep asking if we're sure he's sane, as if it's impossible for him to be so complacent about us."
She looked down at her current notebook, and then to the rusted filing cabinet where its predecessors rested.
"He's sane, though," she said finally. "I'm quite sure of it."
"Don't think I'd be able to cope with it," Alice shuddered. "It's bad enough to know I'm recorded out in public. But in your own home? Thank god this job gives us that much privacy. It's about the only reason I stay.""Is it so bad here? Comfortable chairs, easy workload. No job stress. Lifetime financial stability."
"My eyes hurt from staring at a screen all day, and all these computers give me a pounding headache." She rubbed at her temples, frowning, then attempted a smile. "At least the company's good."