There comes a hiss. Then a faint crackling. Then the barest hint of the odor of ozone.

The toaster splits open, revealing a mess of incredibly complicated mechanisms inside, and begins to rearrange itself into a new shape! In a matter of only a few moments what was once an appliance smaller than a loaf of bread is now a gynoid of polished steel and brass.

She regards the ghostly fellow curiously as the delicately crafted components of her face pull into the faintest hint of a smile. "You don't have to take my word for it," the machine replies in a synthesized voice with a rather odd reverb to it. "If you can't see something you don't have to believe it is true."

...

What's that supposed to mean?

There comes a distinct pop from inside the machine. She glances down curiously, pulls back a compartment on her chest, and extracts another piece of toast.

The gynoid regards the blackened slice of bread curiously as though she isn't sure how it go there.