“All these years and the kid still doesn’t have a grasp on basic English vocabulary,” the robot correlated, to no desired reply, before playing an audible, prerecorded scoff for Roy to hear through its internal speaker; the sampled scoff having been slowed to three quarters value for the sake of generating a prolonged delivery.

“This isn’t the compound… armature  hour, all right, Roy,” the robot replied in kind, the left side of Roy’s face partially contorting after several, longer than typical drawn out moments. “This is real life,” it added, noticing Roy’s facial expression and postulating whether its mocking through similarly altered locution had been understood or if

¶ –thanks to Roy’s peculiar timed response–

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