Ray: Examine Robot

Ugh. No thanks. You've gotten more than enough personal time with these mechanical behemoths to last you lifetimes. Your BROTHER likes to tinker with these stupid things but when they invariably go nuts he junks them out here in your hallway. I mean yeah, sure, having a robotic maid who can massage your feet is a great dream and all but does that mean he has the right to put that robot with deathspikes where you were planning on placing your tender foot?

Asimov sure wouldn't think so.

 ==>

Sometimes you think he secretly wants to BE a robot. Coldly calculating, estimating the relative value of a human life to that of a squash in its ever present, ever logical mission. To gaze upon the world with eyes a beautiful shade of infrared, to hold in your cold graspers your egg-shaped female companion's various manipulators and protuberances. What a dumb dream.

Seriously these things give you the creeps. Sometimes late at night you catch yourself listening for the catching of the door on an iron foot, for the slow scrape of a rusty bolt twisting itself loose, coming for YOU.

You shudder and gratefully move on.