As Roy continued to wait for the robot’s next move he began mapping out what –by his mind– might be the most ideal position from which to leap into the pantry.

“Fine,” the robot finally said, seemingly placing a ‘stay’ on the execute command Roy assumed might soon culminate in his own calculated and potentially sloppy murder, the pulsing of the robot’s red LED slowing to the point of complete dissolution as it slowly lowered itself down from the kitchen island and lifted what might be considered its head from the neck pocket of its chamber, the laser focus of its optical unit still keenly fixed and tracking Roy. “Perhaps a thorough physical disciplining would be more in keeping with what you require for requisite reconciliation,” the robot postulated.

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